Hawkes Bay

I have placed my feet in yet another ocean.
Our beach hut is along the coastline next to the border. The mountains of Balochistan rise up out of the western desert. Wild dogs curl up in the sand next to my feet.

A short distance from here, the ubiquitous Call sounds over a sleepy nomadic fishing village. There are so many people in the great city, and so few who would venture here to share Hope. It is the undesirable place. The treasure in brown. A corrupt world of crime, hopelessness, filth and despair. We passed through Macchar Colony with its broken bricks, tents and shingle walls. Homes without roofs, trashpits on fire, naked children running through. The stench of life is overwhelming.

We are nine people. Nine vastly different souls who, for various reasons, have chosen to place our hands (and our lives) on this map. What can be done here? We are only nine people...

Do I believe He can change the hearts of 16 million? Can hope come to this desert by the sea?

I have no words to write. This heart has left me beside myself. I live in perpetual moments of unreality - as if this world along the Eastern Shores lay in another dimension. I cannot wrap my mind around the possibilities.

Help my unbelief.