Where is the hope?

Today we went to a very large dump in Guatemala City where many people spend their lives picking through garbage, trying to salvage things that they can sell.  It was quite the sobering experience.  I just couldn't stop thinking about how incredibly different their lives are from mine.  They work to survive, day by day.  Every single day families work in the dump, looking for useful things to sell for some money for the next day.  Every single day.

I just can’t imagine a live completely centered on surviving.  And I’m sure they can’t imagine anything else.  Survival is pretty much the last thing on my list of concerns.  I never have to worry about where my next meal is going to come from, or whether or not I can get healthcare, and so many other things that I just take for granted—because I was born into a society of wealth.  It’s all I know.  But the people who work in the dump have been there for generations.  It’s all they know.  Kids are born and grow up—as their parents and siblings scavenge through trash.  Then they have their own kids—and scavenge through trash.  Then they die—and their kids scavenge through trash.

What gives them purpose?  Joy?  Hope?

Maybe some of them know Jesus, but many don’t.  And I don’t know what gives them the strength to get up every day and work in the garbage, just so they can buy food for another day of working in the dump.  A life like that seems so absolutely hopeless.

How does God reveal beauty and hope in a place as desolate as that?  At least those who know the Lord have hope in an eternity with Him after life here, but for those who don’t… I just can’t imagine.