The Audacity of Hopelessness (with deference to President Obama.)

Musings from a front porch in Kenya . . .


I’ve been observing something lately through the eyes of my tour groups who come to visit Kenya and the University. As part of their trip, along with the Safaris and beach spas, we go into the great pulsing and sprawling Kibera slum on the edge of Nairobi. To get your mind around it, think of the opening scenes in SlumDog Millionaire. Kibera is very much what you saw.

Inevitably, as we’re walking out of the slum, stepping over open sewage-filled rivers and dodging trash piles, someone will say, “These people are so darn happy! Why are they so hopelessly joyful? It just doesn’t make sense. My kids have everything known to teenage-hood and they aren’t nearly this happy. For crying out loud, I’m not this happy!”

There are some pat answers I’ve learned to give, like, “They don’t know what they don’t know. This is the sum and total of their world view. It’s their home and home is where your heart is.” But, I know those answers don’t quite nail it. So I’m left with a certain discontent about my answers.

But lately, I think I’m getting some of it. My guess is that if you don’t have great expectations, you won’t be disappointed. One marketing guru I know says, “Set their expectations low and then exceed them.”

Is there a Bible verse for that? Possibly. . . How about Philippians 2? What in the world was Jesus doing when he “made himself nothing?” Nothing, meaning a Kibera slum dweller who knew he was the King of Kings? Is that the audacity of hopelessness? Is it emulating Christ if we can empty ourselves of every hope/expectation we have on earth, just to feel the freedom of hopelessness (apart from a Savior?) The thought actually makes me feel a certain relief. Maybe it’s like those snow days, or storm days when the power goes out and you can’t use the car. You stay home with almost nothing and cook hotdogs on the back porch grill. And wasn’t the abandonment to hopelessness great fun? Maybe our slumdogs are more like the Philippians 2 Jesus than we ever thought.

I’m just thinking. . . .

Lois