Holding Hope in the Midst of Struggle
Have you heard it? The Divine Scream? That Holy cry of rage and despair?
I have, in those moments where I have borne witness to great suffering. I have become aware of the Lament of the Mother, expressing Her deep sorrow; aching for what is, for what was, for what could have been.
It was on the streets of Tāmaki that I first became aware of it. It was winter, cold, and before me were three young people, basically children. They told their stories of the suffering which had paved their path to the street; stories that would break your heart.
I have heard many such stories since. Children are forced to survive; homeless, neglected, abused, and forgotten by those with the power to protect them. They are abandoned in our streets to struggle alone.
In my early days serving rangatahi experiencing homelessness, there was a story that almost broke me. A child, barely 16, had been sleeping rough. My team and I had managed to support several of her friends to get housed, and yet we never met her. In fact, I didn’t even know about her until her name came up in the paper. Taken advantage of due to her youth, she had been exploited, and eventually brutally murdered. During the time we had managed to house and begin supporting several of her friends, she’d been out there, on the streets. I couldn’t help thinking about how unnecessary her death was - how if we only had enough services, enough housing for young people, enough compassion and love for the poor, then her path to the street could have been avoided.
I remember sitting in my local church gathering one Sunday, surrounded by my faith whānau and we sang that old hymn, “where you go I’ll go, who you serve I’ll serve, in this life I lead, I will follow you.” In that moment I couldn’t help but think, really? Do we actually mean this? For me, the idea that youth homelessness could exist in a world where the church did, was a sum that I just couldn’t add up.
In the face of such suffering and injustice, there are times where the temptation to give in to despair is just too much to resist. How do we continue when we fight, struggle, and pour ourselves out in pursuit of justice, only to be kicked in the teeth and crumpled beneath the weight of society's collective apathy? Sometimes, if I’m really honest, I don’t have any energy left for hope. Just rage. Anger at the absolute wrongness of it all, and at the fact that we aren’t all just more angry!
It’s in those moments that I sense God; the pain of the Mother. In those moments I am reminded that we have a God who grieves with us, and who is equally enraged at the suffering of Her children.
I recently came across this quote from Isaac Rowe: “I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief.”
This spoke to me, because it has truly been my experience. Beneath the rage and anger I feel when facing the injustice of this world, is grief. And it is in the midst of that grief, as I embrace my sorrow, that I find Hope.
It might seem strange to begin a conversation about Hope with an expression of such despair. But, it has been my experience that there is no Hope without Lament. It’s not atop any mountain - it’s crucified and discarded, lying in the gutter.
Hope is a bitter word. It means suffering, enduring long nights, wrestling, longing, waiting. It is not triumphant, but it holds on, fights on! Hope, endures.
I think many of us are sold a version of Hope that is founded on some form of fake triumphalism. But, that’s not the story of our faith. Those who identify with the Christian faith follow a Crucified and betrayed Messiah. We follow a God who stepped into solidarity with humanity in the form of a poor, oppressed and marginalised Jew. He was a victim of colonisation, and our God-made-flesh struggled for Justice in the face of the Empire. And, we must remember, the powers that be killed him for it.
Too often we’re encouraged to rush past this part, but it’s important we sit in this space. We must sit in the darkness of the Crucifixion, because it was in the midst of the darkest of nights that our Hope was birthed and given life.
The struggle can be overwhelming, and the weight of the world is heavy. But in those moments when your knees buckle, and you feel like crumbling under the weight of the world's suffering, remember that you do not struggle alone. This is collective mahi. We struggle together, sustained by the One whose struggle is eternal.
The Crucified One does not give up on us. He stands with us, fighting for us, working through us, to bring about Love and Justice in this world.
Aaron Hendry
Aaron Hendry is a Youth Worker, rangatahi advocate, writer, and political commentator on social justice issues. He lives in an intentional community in Tāmaki Makaurau whose mission is to serve young people who don't have homes. Aaron is a founding member of Manaaki Rangatahi and has had a key role in developing the Safety Net Project, both of which are initiatives to support rangatahi experiencing homelessness.