This I recall to my mind, therefore I have hope. The LORD’S loving kindnesses [tender mercy and steadfast love] indeed never cease, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:21-23

Life is hard. Pain often my companion. Ministry gut wrenching at times as I hear stories of children whose lives are not anywhere close to what they should be. Children in my city, in the school where I direct a mentoring ministry . . . and all those around the world who suffer immensely every day.

My heart is torn. It aches. My spirit is weary. My hope for change weak in light of the seven years we’ve been in this battle for the hearts and lives and futures of so many little ones, and their families. Barely scratching the surface in the amount of need in an area of our city where almost 100% of children live below, often way below, the national poverty line.

Last night I heard about yet another child’s traumatic story which honestly, made me angry before it made me sad. I cried out the only word I know to cry out, Jesus. Jesus help them. Help us know how to help them. Help me know what to do. Forgive me for losing sight of hope . . . and of You

For this is not my battle as the writer of 2 Chronicles 20:15, 17 aptly describes, this battle is the Lord’s. My battle is to turn in faith and trust the God whom I know is merciful and filled with compassion. To stop launching out in my own strength and trust Him to show me the way each day, each moment.

My battle is not to fix anything.

My battle is to maintain hope in Jesus . . . for me and for them.

This morning I read a blog post by Katie Davis Majors about her work in Uganda, surely among some of the worst circumstances I can imagine. She grew weary. Her hope waned, and on March 10 she wrote . . . ‘how do we not lose hope . . . .

Katie beautifully admits, ‘I let my mind wander because I am weary. I don’t want to engage in this kind of suffering again . . . I haven’t spent enough time with Jesus and today I just can’t seem to open my heart to that kind of hurt without despair.

{and yet} ‘I force myself to get down in the dirt and lay my hands on a sick friend and pray. My hand is wet and I realize that she is letting her tears fall, vulnerable, in front of me, in front of our Father. Her hurt is different than mine, but really, it is the same. We are the same. Both just as in need of a Savior as the other. Both willing Him, begging Him to come quickly. I ask Him to open my heart to right here and right now. I ask Him to make Himself known . . .

‘These women persist. Against all the odds, when it would be easier to just give up and go ahead and call this place hopeless, they cling to their hope in Jesus and they persist in doing good, they persist in seeking His glory . . .

“I am at work here,” [Jesus] whispers, again and again . . . .

‘For mercy, for comfort, we wait on the Lord. And He is at work here.

And God is at work in and around B A elementary school, at our church . . . in me . . . I will not lose hope in God’s tender mercies and steadfast love. 

Come Lord Jesus, come. Change lives. Redeem the broken. Give hope to the hopeless.

Save the children . . . and change our city for your glory.

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