But the beauty was diluted. The vibrant green of the mountain forests across the valley was already dotted with too much brown for this early in the dry season. It was a trend, I was told, that residents of La Union had been noticing more and more. After all, the cows hadn’t broken out of their enclosure for the pleasure of an evening stroll through the town plaza. They were hungry and looking for better grass. With the heavy rains still months away, it was a hunger that they and the land were only beginning to befriend.

This blend of beauty and struggle was on the surface of so much of my time in Honduras.

For simply reporting the findings of an independent watchdog about the perception of corruption in Honduras, ASJ became the target of a torrent of public abuse and slander from the Honduran government. Yet, in response, I saw ASJ-Honduras leaders return evil with good and cover their staff and our shared mission in prayer.

A heartbreaking case of abuse at a remote orphanage that ASJ was helping to address went sideways, leaving the fate of the children there in limbo. At the same time, other children across Honduras celebrated the opening of the school year a full month sooner than the year before and the smooth delivery of school lunches across the country—goals that ASJ has been working toward for years.

I witnessed the work of a neighborhood impact club for kids and saw the joy of belonging and the beauty of empowerment, even as I learned how much vulnerability shapes so many of their stories.

Rejoice and lament. Celebration and sorrow. Beauty and struggle.

It’s impossible to understand ASJ’s work for justice without also understanding these twin realities and the inescapable relationship between them. It would be reductionist to believe that Honduras is nothing more than its most intractable challenges. It would be naïve to believe that all that makes Honduras remarkable can exist outside of the context of those same challenges. After all, Honduras is no different than any other place this side of the kingdom of God.

What I’m starting to understand, though, is that this alloy of beauty and struggle is not a tension to be escaped but a gift to be embraced. The beauty makes the struggle for justice bearable by reminding us of all we must fight for. The darkness of the struggle makes the light of celebration and joy much brighter.

This is the shape of our common work for justice: progress and disappointment, success and failure, rejoicing and lament. Twins holding hands and standing with us on tip-toe as we await the fullness of the kingdom of God, a fullness that will somehow be even brighter for all the darkness that came before.

Blessings,