Hope Shifts

On most of my Mexico trips, I snap about 15 pictures. Usually they are snapshots of my week or at least they are filled with people that I do not want to forget. On this trip I wish I had a camera for just 1 picture.

As we walked through the padlocked gate of the House for the Dying (padlocked for whom I wonder), I noticed something that I did not expect. I had expected everyone to be in bed counting their days and trying to recall memories of joy. (I'm a big insensitive idiot I know, but my nerves were skewing my expectations. Maybe I needed them to look sick because of my pride's desire to be better than them...wow I didn't expect that deep thought here...sorry). What I found instead were mostly men and some women who were living a community of hope.

I used to think that Acts 2:42 was the best picture of Biblical community but now I know better. I wanted to take a picture of what I saw. Here are frames of what I saw:

Men and women sitting in rocking chairs, wheel chairs and around a common table.

Some laughing, some trying not to fall asleep at the other's story.

Some whose minds weren't sharp. Some whose bodies had stopped cooperating with them.

All were in need. All were healing agents for the others.

No one could hide his/her weakness or vulnerability. All were broken. All were whole to the other.

Bibles sat on the table and verses were scattered around the beds. Could there be a more desperate real community who needed the Lord? They weren't loved because of their accomplisment or production level. They couldn't be. Their identities and dignity stemmed simply from the heart of God who had created each one of them and had marked their days just as He does mine. It is pure love.

And it's a picture that I will never forget.