the last four days.

Thursday, Friday, and Saturday I spent almost entirely in Mbocayaty (I looked it up on Google Maps, and that's how they spelled it, but it could still be entirely wrong.) We spent all three days teaching biblical lessons, singing bouncy songs, and corralling children into and out of rooms, brainstorming how to make sure that each of 200 children only get one Rice Krispie treat each. It was awful. The field director's wife was almost crushed against the back door of the church because the boys that were inside with her were so uncontrollably eager to get outside. They pushed so hard to get out the door that they actually got stuck and couldn't move. 
It was ugly and scary and horrific and disappointing and sad. I saw the dirtiest, most hateful, most greedy and impatient side of every single child there. When I told them what to do, they mocked my words. They spat my words back at me and laughed in my face. They said ugly sounding things in Guarani that I couldn't understand, glancing at me sideways and then refusing to do what I'd asked. They ignored the leaders and almost destroyed every single thing we brought to play with them. 
There was a profound thanklessness that I couldn't understand, and it angered me severely that children who had so little could be ungrateful for so much.
And then I woke up a little and I realized how very, very poor I am, and how very, very thankless I have acted. And then I remembered the greatest gift in the universe, and how, so often, I forget that I haven't acted worthily of it, and it's still mine anyway...and continue to treat it poorly.
And then I remembered how home lives effect the children that come out of them, and I remembered what I was like in 7th grade, and how my youth pastor chose to love me, and how it changed me. And I remembered what I was like in 11th grade, and how my Chemistry teacher chose to love me, and how it changed me. And I remembered what I was like freshman year and how the leader of the prayer team chose to love me, and how much it changed me. 
And then I knew that there was nothing I owed anyone on this earth except the debt of love that I owe to Jesus Christ of Nazareth, payable to the meanest and rudest and dirtiest of us, payable to the ones who hurt me and disrespect me, payable to those who just seem insignificant or annoying.
And so I chose to be gentle and to be patient and to be kind. Not mine, of course, that I should boast. But I chose, and when I chose, He gave me more of what I needed, and then it just came out of me like water, like kisses, like Hope. It came out in Love, because when you Love someone, you're choosing to believe that they are capable of attaining their full potential. You're choosing to believe that they will choose what needs to be chosen, and you're choosing to act in Love on their behalf, even though they haven't made their behlaf look like it's worth much. 
That is Hope.
That is what Jesus had for us, while we were still sinners. While we were still his enemies. 
Love is Hope in action.