My Life is Not My Own

Today I sent my group out on the "urban plunge" which is where I give them each 2 dollars, a list of services to find, pair them up, and they have to find food for themselves as well as for someone who needs it. The kids come back with awesome stories of people they meet as well as a greater awareness of the difficulties of life on the streets.

I was struck by the excitement that my kids showed. For them, it was a challenge and an honor to be trusted in the city, with the money, and with the responsibility to find food for someone other then themselves.

I was so convicted by their enthusiasm.

The money that I gave them was not their own but entrusted to them for good. The time was not their own but entrusted to them for good.

I have also been entrusted with resources, situations, love and the truth. However, they are not really my own. On that same note, my life is not my own. I have been entrusted with life here on this earth and the duty to represent Christ. What if I were to live with excitement for what I can do for the Lord with what I have been entrusted? What if this was my daily prayer and praise? What if really lived with the knowledge of our responsibility and great pleasure to shower blessings on those we meet?

My life is not my own... Hallelujah!

My Soul is Anchored in the Lord

Today was restful.

In the morning, I took my group to a Christian Mission that feeds people, houses a shelter, works with the community, and runs a Christian Discipleship program that brings men out of addictions, violence, and other problems and leads them in a seminary-type training. It is a great program with amazing results. The groups generally do a little bit of work and then I make sure they get a tour. The men share their lives with us and give all glory to the Lord. Each time I go to the mission I am more inspired by the men I meet and the way God has worked to completely transform their lives.

One guy there that I have visited a couple of times is 25 and has had three ex-wives and 6 kids. He got into trouble with the law and then entered the program after trying to escape the streets. He is the most unassuming and gentle guy now. We saw him on a tour today and he declined telling his testimony since he was not doing well right now. The guy taking us for a tour prayed for him and hugged him as brothers. It was a beautiful thing to see.

Our tour guide ended the tour by singing a breath-taking rendition of "My soul is anchored in the Lord". This man was born a heroin addict, became an enforcer for drug lords and was a very violent man. However, the man we saw before us in the mission chapel was singing a song of pain and salvation that almost brought tears to my eyes. I am reminded of the true change and justice that can only come from faith in Jesus. His healing power restores souls and is our only hope.

VBS

Ah, so I have not been taking pictures lately... I apologize...

I have been taking my group this week to VBS in an inner-city church. It is more of a summer school program that attempts to prepare children for school, catch them up, and also teach them the gospel. We were told that we cannot let the kids cuddle with us and climb all over us. At first I thought, well, ok, if that is what they want. I sort of assumed it was probably for our own protection.

As the week has progressed, I have been helping out in the four-year-old room. These two twin boys are perhaps the cutest little things I have ever met. However, the little dears also come to camp tired, cranky, and with drooping eyes each day. One of them so desperately wanted to use my lap to lie down and rest that it just broke my heart. I started to question the rules. Why can't we let them cuddle with us? He just wants a hug and wants to snuggle into a nice warm lap. However, this is precisely the problem.

After hearing the testimonies of some of the people who have suffered great pain in their lives, starting with childhood, I have heard evidence of why children must be careful to trust strangers. The great comfort that these kids felt after meeting us for a day should be scary to a parent when we live in an awful world. After talking with a leader and a former teacher, I wanted to cry all over again for these kids.

In addition to causing them to trust strangers, we also have the potential to hinder their social development and their ability to function independently. On mission trips and in service opportunities, well-meaning volunteers often baby the children and encourage behavior that would not be accepted when they grow up because we feel bad for these inner-city kids. We also encourage their affection for us and then leave them and forget them after our week of service is done. I still remember the way a little girl cried when I left an after-school program I volunteered at while on a mission trip in ninth grade.

I am left wanting to be there permanently for children in need, whether through adoption, foster care, or else volunteering or through my profession. I don't know. However, I am also left here struggling with how to be in places of temporary relationships with children and how best to communicate the caution groups must exercise when dealing with children. I want to love unselfishly and with the recipients in mind, not my own feelings.

Moving

Alright, since I have been so busy this past week I am just going to write another post today...

I just got back from a retreat in Villanova, PA this past weekend. We went into Philly Thursday night, ate some philly cheese steaks (which were excellent) and then got some ice cream at a little creamery which was adorable. To top off this excellent weekend, I stayed in a mansion last night. Yep.

It is about 100 years old and has beautiful paneling, exquisite floors, and the windows were huge, looking over the expansive veranda and lawn. The mansion is currently used as an office for a missionary organization but we were able to stay in the president's apartment, which was probably once the servants quarters. It was sort of a cottage inside a mansion. I had a wonderful time exploring and just getting to relax in all the space. While I love living with the people in my organization, it is nice to have some space to be alone once in a while.

To combat the relaxing time in Pennsylvania, we have also been moving housing sites this week. For the next week I will be living in the Southeast quadrant of DC. I am excited for the move since most of our ministry partners operate in the SE, which is known for having less resources and affluence then the rest of DC. The Southeast, particularly an area south of the river known as Anacostia, is often overlooked and ignored as being a part of DC. However, we do not yet have showers in the new housing site. Yep, so I guess it will just be me, deodorant, and DC's awful heat this week. Be thankful for your showers and your distance from me. :) I have been told that we will be given access to showers, however I am preparing myself for the worst.

Pray for the move and pray for my groups that I will be meeting and leading this week. I pray that they would see people as God sees them and that their compassion would overflow. Also pray that I keep a positive attitude throughout the week and that I am a Godly example to the groups!

Onions and Underwear

This past week I have been volunteering at some of the sites I will be taking groups to this summer. My week has progressed with its share of ups and downs. Here are a couple of experiences...

I started out by volunteering with the DC Central Kitchen, an organization that receives volunteer help and prepares food for shelters across the city. It is an amazing organization that also trains people in struggling positions for food preparation, equipping them with these culinary skills which can qualify them for better jobs in the city.

While I was impressed by the organization, I had a miserable time there. :( I was in the area where people were cutting onions but I was secretly pumped that I only was preparing the lettuce. However, I finished this and was placed on onion duty, something I thought I had avoided. For the next two hours I peeled and sliced onions while stinging tears streamed down my face. The rest of the day my eyes stung, reminding me of my awful morning. I respect people so much that prepare unfortunate food each day and am even more avid in my dislike of onions.

I also volunteered at 6am the next day in a soup kitchen where I sorted clothes to hand out to the men eating breakfast. This was an interesting task. I have become accustomed to picking out my clothing, with little thought to the price but only thinking of the style. I have had the luxury of choosing clothing that is in my size. However, for these men, they only requested a t-shirt or other type of clothing, receiving what we could find in the pile of donated clothes.

I was torn between many different thoughts while doing this. Part of me felt pity, seeing the brokenness that existed in some of these men, waiting in line for a t-shirt that had been a cast-off from another person. On the other hand, one man approached me and showed me something he had received and told me it was too big. I didn't have anything else and he yelled at me, asking what he was supposed to do with it since it was too big, and then threw it down at my feet.

At first, I was annoyed, I mean I was not even the one who brought it down for him. He is getting this for free and is a regular here, making this soup kitchen and the handouts a part of his daily life. I lost the pity and instead felt judgement in my heart. However, as I continue to reflect, I am reminded that it is not my choice who to love or who to show patience to. Even worse, this was a pair of underwear. Despite this man's personal choices and outside effects that might have brought him to this place in life, I cannot imagine a more humiliating experience but to come and ask for underwear from these young and affluent kids. The fact that it was too big was probably just too much for his pride, causing him to lash out in anger, attempting to regain his dignity.

Throughout the summer, I pray that I would not become immune to poverty and devastation but that I would instead be a loving and understanding presence in this city and with my groups. I pray I would be quick to love, quick to listen, and slow to judge these people that I do not know.

Say my name

While meeting with people from the different ministry sites my organization is partnering with during the summer, I heard a heart-breaking story today about a man who was homeless and had not been called by name for three weeks.

Three weeks.

I am particularly jolted by this story because I thought I knew how it felt to be passed over, unappreciated, and forgotten. Perhaps it is the feeling when everyone was recognized for their gifts and people forgot to mention yours, maybe you met someone and then were not remembered upon a second meeting, maybe these are silly things, but when added together they can impact a person deeply. Picture on the opposite side the feeling when you walk into a room and someone loudly calls out your name, announcing your presence and the joy that the room feels that you have finally arrived. Picture your smile as you are embraced by friends, family, maybe even a special someone, and you know that you are wanted. These people know you, love you, and call out to you by your name.

But after I heard that story, I started picturing something entirely different.

Now picture living life where nobody intentionally called you by name for three weeks. Sure, you have been spoken to, but it was not to you but instead it was at you.
You have been told to move along from a place you were sleeping. You were told which line to get in to get food at the soup kitchen. You received eye contact from a passerby but then ignored without a hello as the person passed you by on the street.
You live among people, but without the recognition that comes with a name. Now imagine how difficult life will be, apart from the food, living, and job problems you might be facing. Life is bleak when it is lived in obscurity.

This may be such a small point to make, but I often begin to despair when I realize how difficult real change is and I like to focus on little things. Jesus has called us by name, knowing full-well who we are. Can we be sensitive to others in the same way, calling people by name, whether they are poor or wealthy, as the precious people in God's sight that they are? Let us not forget those who are silent and strive to love people by name and for who they are, as individuals created by a loving and deliberate God.