Street of Life


When you walk around with people, you’d see how tired and broken they are. They wake up early every day. Find a ride, go to work and go home. During the day, they have to face their own battles, their fears and disappointments. They try to overcome it. They go somewhere to escape it. Maybe go to drugs, alcohol or sex, and the next morning they’re again left with the same problem.

For fathers facing the tragedy of not being that strong or brave. The fear that he may not provide, he may not be the best father to his children and husband to his wife. Bound by the sin of the past, lurking around his life like worms on a corpse. When he can’t hold on, he would inflict wounds to his family. The wife, the children would be afraid. The children would grow carrying those wound that would eventually destroy them.

Those with pain and wounds try to find hope, if there is. But poverty takes hold of them and they couldn’t move forward. They don’t know if they can get over another day. They’re afraid that the next day when they wake up, they have nothing but the air they breathe.

People work hard and harder. They’re walking in the streets thinking about their regrets and fears. They have no hope of tomorrow. They try to find ways to have at least joy and peace in their lives. Oh how they wished they were not born poor, how they wished they weren’t sick. Where in the world where they find hope and security?

They create their own world where they would feel their worth. Where they could forget their problems. They press on and on yet the more they try, the more they get tired. Why? There’s nothing that’s happening good as they expected. Still, they’re doomed by fear and anger. How can they resolve it?

Some people gave up. When they can’t feel the love or acceptance from other people, they think that if they go on drugs or get into different relationships, they would experience it. Out of poverty, some gave up their hope. They just go on doing what they think would make it easier for them to get money so they could eat, their family, and they could get over another day. They sell their bodies to people who wanted to arouse themselves, making their neighbors a toy, lowering their worth to a rag they can trample.

Each man is walking and going their own way on the street of life. All the evil pass them by. And at the end of the street, they realized their destiny. Their pain on the street is a preview of their pain in eternity.

Christians are also on the street. They celebrate with their friends. They too passed by these people on their way to eternity of joy. I wonder, if these Christians could have stopped by and share the hope they have, heaven would be a beautiful place. And at last, the people who suffered here will one day experience joy that’s eternal.


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