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Mexico Searching for hope by Lindsay Dyer "If you spend yourselves on behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in darkness, and your night will become like the noonday. The Lord will guide you always." Isaiah 58:10b-11a The trek across thousands of miles to Mexico was, for me, a quest for hope. In the semester leading up to the trip, I felt too many things crumble beneath me. I saw dreams shatter. A mother with cancer. A faith-wavering father. Love lost. Future dreams altered with God's new plan and new path presented before me. So maybe I went to Mexico seeking hope that I could forget all the things I couldn't leave behind. But what I found in that strange land would transform the beating of my heart and transplant the roots of my faith into rich, deep, dark soil warmed and watered by my gentle God. You will cry for help and he will say: Here I am (9). I didn't know the role I would play. When you travel with over seventy people, it's easy to just get lost. I was tempted to disappear into the shadows of my braver and bolder brothers and sisters. The third day we were there, I was asked to help interpret in the medical clinic. I laughed at the thought of me trying to speak my third-grade level Spanish to these intelligent natives. But before I could catch my breath, I was speaking to people, asking them about their health, their families, and their lives. From the depths of me, I was crying out to God to give me His ears so that I could understand their words, and to give me His tongue so that I could respond to their questions. Somewhere, in the middle of the torrential rains and scorching sun, the Lord came. You will be called Repairer of Broken Walls (12). I held hands with women who had lost fingers in strange ways. I wrapped my arms around men crippled over with arthritis. I held babies with deformed faces. I laughed and cried with people with rotting teeth because there is no adequate dental care. I read stories to children with diseases. Broken people came running. Some walked for miles and miles in the rain and hot sun because of the doctors we brought. They walked through the doors because of hope. Hope that maybe our doctors could heal them or their children. And sometimes, the doctors could help, and they'd leave grateful. Many times, though, there wasn't anything we could do for them. They'd leave with barely anything more than Advil or cough syrup. I watched in awe of the hundreds of people who came quickly into our midst and left still hopeful. There was always tomorrow for them. Then your life will break forth like dawn and your healing will appear quickly (8). The most amazing thing I heard from the hundreds of people I spoke with was what they didn't say. I never once heard anyone ask, "Why is God doing this? How could He let this happen?" The Mexican people came humble to us — their faces low to the ground. They came thirsty and starving for a Savior. Many have never heard the name of Jesus. Can you imagine living your whole life and never knowing the story? I can't fathom. Yet I saw expressions change at the sound of His name. And as I told (and watched others tell) the story I've lived with my whole life, I realized that Jesus could offer far more than our doctors. Jesus could forgive their sins. Jesus could heal their bodies. Jesus could give them hope. Yes, there is a place where children don't die in your arms. There is a place where you won't suffer or starve. There is more — something better beyond this unfair and unjust life. Jesus stood in our presence and offered that to them. I saw people weeping for joy. God allowed me to share what people in this country have lost interest in — the story of our rescue and our hope. And he enabled me to pray with them in their language to our God, who knows all languages. Then you will find your joy in the Lord (14). We left Mexico before daybreak, while the gentle people of those towns still slept and dreamed. And as the dawn came, I saw the world (and myself in it) the way I should have seen it all along. The Lord is returning to claim His children, and I am asked to be a part of gathering them to Him. I know what I am made to do for the rest of my life — sit in the dirt with a child and read a story. Hug strangers. Hold hands with the fearful and walk with them through the valley. Lie with my face in the dirt so others can use my back to step across. This is my hope: One day, I will stand with those people from Mexico in the Throne Room before the King of Kings. I will listen to them pray and praise Him. And I will understand every word. Amen.