HOPE BEYOND THE FENCE LINE

HOPE BEYOND THE FENCE LINE

Beyond the fence line
where the city seldom lingers,
where barbed wire catches
the first light of morning,
hope still awakens.

Not because the night was easy,
nor because the rain forgot to fall,
but because the human heart
was created to reach
for another dawn.

Beyond the fence line
a tarp becomes a shelter,
a shopping cart becomes a companion,
a paper cup of coffee
becomes a feast of kindness.

There,
where the world sees only survival,
God continues
the quiet work of resurrection.

For hope has never depended
on polished streets
or towering skylines.

It has always been born
in unlikely places—

a stable in Bethlehem,
a fishing boat on Galilee,
a hill called Calvary
outside the city gate.

Even the empty tomb
stood beyond the certainty
of human expectation.

So why should hope
fear a fence?

Steel cannot imprison grace.

Barbed wire cannot pierce
the promise of God.

Locked gates cannot silence
the voice that still says,

"Behold, I am making all things new."

The fence may mark
where human welcome ends,

but it cannot mark
where divine mercy begins.

For Christ still walks
the forgotten paths,
still calls each neighbor by name,
still breaks bread
where others refuse to stop.

And every act of compassion—
a shared meal,
a dry blanket,
a listening ear,
a hand reaching toward another—

becomes a gate opening
where the world saw only a fence.

One day,

the wire will rust,
the barriers will fall,
the gates will stand open,
and every wall built by fear
will surrender
to the Kingdom of Love.

Until that day,

hope waits patiently

just beyond the fence line,

where Christ has always been,

welcoming home
those the world
thought it had left behind.

Pastor Steven G. Lee
St. GMC Corps
July 1, 2026