When I know God's heart about something, I don't need to beg God to do it. No "please, if it be your will" kind of prayers. No long prayers trying to convince God to do what He already WANTS to do!
Instead, I put my heart where His heart is. I agree with what's in His heart. I can declare His heart into my life and the lives of others.
I know that God's heart is for people to be healed and whole. He wants human beings to be sane and healthy and in their right minds.
So, D. is a woman coming to BJM who could not be described as either sane or in her right mind. We've found her rambling and wandering in the neighborhood. On a good day, she would sing random songs from the 70s or old rock and roll tunes. She carried a prayer card with a late 19th century picture of a nun on it and insisted it was a photo of me. She obsessed about priests and worried about being kidnapped. One bad day, I found her huddled on the sidewalk, using a bit of metal to reflect sunlight toward passing cars. She pulled me down beside her. "Stay here," she warned. "So you're safe. I don't want them to see us. They'll hurt you and put things inside of you."
The BJM staff have been praying for D. Lately, we talked about the time Jesus healed a man who suffered from severe mental torment and was so violent that he was kept chained. Jesus commanded the evil spirits tormenting his mind and spirit to leave. he healed the man's mental illness. Then, we're given a short, hope-infused description of the man: when Jesus returned, he was "clothed and in his right mind."
We know that mental illness is never the heart or will of God. God doesn't "give" people mental illness. No . You may have heard some people say that God wills bad things to happen so that we'll get closer to him or so He can do some "great thing" through our suffering.
Not true. God is absolutely good. he doesn't give us mental illness or cancer or alcoholism because he is Good. Only Good. He doesn't have evil to give. Only good. So, we know that God's heart is for D. to be whole and at peace. It is not for D to live with mental illness, fear, and emotional torment. NO.
We began to declare this into D's mind and heart. Over her life. "You are beloved of Jesus. We will see you clothed and in your right mind." Over and over. When we saw her on the street. At Nail Day. When we prayed for her in the women's center. Sometimes, when she was incoherent, I would speak these words aloud as she rambled.
We didn't stop with D....but have been declaring God's heart over many women who live with mental illness and who are tormented by past trauma, emotional pain, and the work of evil in their lives.
So, two weeks ago, D.showed up at nail day. She was dressed neatly and talked more lucidly than we have ever seen. By the end of that week, she was dressed nicely every day. She reported to us that she had been approved for Social Security Disability income and had finally FINALLY been approved and moved into an SRO (Single Resident/room occupancy apartment) here in the Tenderloin. This means she's no longer sleeping on the streets (Hallelujah!!!)
This week, she met us in the neighborhood with hugs and clear eyes. She informed me with a laugh that "my picture of the nun...I know it isn't you...but her smile reminds me of you so I keep it."
Then, she knocked on the door of the women's center. We invited her in. D walked into the dance studio, slipped off her shoes, faced the mirrors and placed her hand on the barre. She lifted her chin and gracefully moved her hands and feet through the basic positions of ballet. First, Second, Third, Fourth, fifth. She laughed and talked about the famous dancer, Barishnikov fleeing Russia and seeking asylum in the U.S. She laughed and told stories about her childhood dance teacher. She rambled a bit and was sometimes disconnected in her thinking, but for the most part, she was lucid and humorous and joyful. And we were amazed.
here she stood before us - clothed and in her right mind.
How did this happen? We don't know. God has done what we asked. What we believed was in his heart for D. What we declared over her for days and weeks.
Did God start a process of healing her mind? Did our stand against the tormenting spirits begin to break the hold they have had on her for so long? Did the stress-relieving miracle of having a safe place to live give D enough emotional energy to remember to take medication every day? Again, we don't know. What we do know is, we have been believing and partnering with God for healing of broken minds and wounded spirits. We have been staring mental illness in the eye and demanding "let them go." We have been asking Father God for miracles and declaring them over and into people's lives.
And in walks D. Clothed and in her right mind. Making jokes. Smiling. Lucid.
And we are amazed. I can only say, "Thank you, Father God. Loving Dad. Thank you."
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Love = More Love
Children Learn What they Live....one of those posters from the 70s or 80s that dared to claim that children watch the world around them and them repeat what they see.
I remember reading it and worrying about all the bad habits my kids were picking up. Once, a bag of groceries burst and everything went rolling down the stairs. I had been climbing the stairs to our second floor apartment with groceries, a 2 year old and a 3 month old in a snugli pack. The result of the grocery collapse was annoyance and a single not-so-printable expletive. My 2 year old repeated it perfectly - intonation, facial expression, head shake following. Not once, but multiple times. for days afterward
Whoops.
NO, I thought. Clearly, she thought, Cool...that got a rise out of mom.
My daughter eventually forgot about the grocery expletive. Today, she is a poised woman who doesn't swear like a sailor. I didn't ruin everything....
As I get to know more women here in the Tenderloin, I hear their stories. Recurrent themes include foster care, physical, sexual and emotional abuse, domestic violence, abandonment, multiple generations of drug and alcohol addiction and mental illness.
We talk about basic relationship skills. How to say No. What are boundaries anyway? Your body is yours - not his. YOU are not for sale! There is a God and He loves you....Yes, YOU.
Recently I gently explained to someone why wearing a hot pink micro mini skirt and a bikini top might give men the message that her body was "available." I said, "You get to think about what you want. How you want to be treated. You get to decide."
How would she know this? No one had ever taught her anything. No one had parented her. In fact, her parents' abuse and neglect was so severe they should have been arrested and imprisoned. They weren't.
The older woman on the streets who had tried to protect and love her had all died...drugs, accidents, illness. Every one.
"My grandma used to get wasted and start to throw things at everybody," said V - who startles easily and cries out in fear when anyone raises their voice or conflict occurs.
"I raised myself," K said. "Since I was 10."
S's grandmother had been mom, dad and everything else since S was 5. Before that, S's parents dragged themselves and their child from hotel to crack house to abandoned building as they stuck needles in their arms and lived for the next fix. At 15, grandma died and S returned to mom and dad...both were sick and aged by years of drug abuse. They all stayed in a single room until S ran away.
L's entire family were alcoholics. M's single mother held down multiple jobs to feed her children. She loved her children - yet raged and was frightening.
Z's loving parents never knew she was being molested for nearly a decade. A's parents did know - because they earned money by trafficking their daughter to men.
It's no mystery how woman end up in the Tenderloin. They are victims. Often, they are simply doing what they learned as children. Or, doing what they see others do to survive.
And given their family backgrounds, they should be considered courageous survivors. Yet, even in survival, woman often hurt and harm themselves because they were never taught to do differently.
What I see, every day, is Because Justice Matters staff loving. This is not a ministry of big numbers. We don't operate the valuable and important services like shelters or medical clinics. We honor and need those who do, but BJM's calling is different.
BJM is about relationships. Giving and loving. Forgiving and loving. Laughing, welcoming, serving, and loving.
Love looks like something - Heidi Baker said. And love looks like serving at Because Justice Matters.
Since I came, I've seen the staff make and serve coffee and tea. And clean up afterward. Prepare and present and clean up from art projects, bible studies, and Nail Day. Visit sick women, Accompany grieving women to funerals or bedsides of sick relatives. Find clothing. Hold smelly, trembling bodies. Massage lotion into chapped, street-roughened hands. Cover a shivering, scantily clothed woman with their own sweater or jacket. I see BJM staff serve and serve and serve.
We don't serve because the women are helpless or because we feel sorry for them. BJM staff serve because these woman deserve to be honored. To be treated as precious and special. To be loved and served. I often think of the many ways mothers serve their children or friends serve each other. That's the kind of serving that happens here. Love looks like something!
On Thursday, love happened. Art for the Heart - a group using art and inner healing prayer to help women understand and find freedom from past hurts and heart-wounds. K always comes. That day, she brought a new friend.
Coffee mugs and a pot of hot coffee with "fixings" were ready when the women came. The art table was prepared. We listened to worship music - as we always do. The women have learned the words to "You Are my Beautiful God" and other songs.
I read the story of Jesus and the storm. How he was sleeping in the boat and everybody said, "Jesus, WAKE UP...don't you care we're going to drown here?" Then, he commanded the storm to stop. Be Still!
We did an art project - painting the "color and feelings" of a stormy time in each person's life. We shared and prayed. Laughed and cried. A good time.
I took one woman aside to talk further. K rose from the table and began to put away all the art supplies. Washed out every water cup used for painting. Rinsed the brushes.
Then, K went into the living room and gathered up the coffee mugs. Load by load, she climbed the stairs to the kitchen, carrying mugs, sugar and cream, the empty coffee pot. I heard the sound of running water as K rinsed the mugs in the sink.
No one had said, "Would you help?" No one had asked anyone to do anything except receive. This was all K's idea. Love looks like something - and love was happening!
K was doing what had been learned. K was giving what she had received. She was following after the people who had loved her. K was serving.
I don't know what K was thinking. But I was thinking COOL! Look at this! Something is happening. Love is reproducing itself - bearing fruit. More love.
Wow.
I remember reading it and worrying about all the bad habits my kids were picking up. Once, a bag of groceries burst and everything went rolling down the stairs. I had been climbing the stairs to our second floor apartment with groceries, a 2 year old and a 3 month old in a snugli pack. The result of the grocery collapse was annoyance and a single not-so-printable expletive. My 2 year old repeated it perfectly - intonation, facial expression, head shake following. Not once, but multiple times. for days afterward
Whoops.
NO, I thought. Clearly, she thought, Cool...that got a rise out of mom.
My daughter eventually forgot about the grocery expletive. Today, she is a poised woman who doesn't swear like a sailor. I didn't ruin everything....
As I get to know more women here in the Tenderloin, I hear their stories. Recurrent themes include foster care, physical, sexual and emotional abuse, domestic violence, abandonment, multiple generations of drug and alcohol addiction and mental illness.
We talk about basic relationship skills. How to say No. What are boundaries anyway? Your body is yours - not his. YOU are not for sale! There is a God and He loves you....Yes, YOU.
Recently I gently explained to someone why wearing a hot pink micro mini skirt and a bikini top might give men the message that her body was "available." I said, "You get to think about what you want. How you want to be treated. You get to decide."
How would she know this? No one had ever taught her anything. No one had parented her. In fact, her parents' abuse and neglect was so severe they should have been arrested and imprisoned. They weren't.
The older woman on the streets who had tried to protect and love her had all died...drugs, accidents, illness. Every one.
"My grandma used to get wasted and start to throw things at everybody," said V - who startles easily and cries out in fear when anyone raises their voice or conflict occurs.
"I raised myself," K said. "Since I was 10."
S's grandmother had been mom, dad and everything else since S was 5. Before that, S's parents dragged themselves and their child from hotel to crack house to abandoned building as they stuck needles in their arms and lived for the next fix. At 15, grandma died and S returned to mom and dad...both were sick and aged by years of drug abuse. They all stayed in a single room until S ran away.
L's entire family were alcoholics. M's single mother held down multiple jobs to feed her children. She loved her children - yet raged and was frightening.
Z's loving parents never knew she was being molested for nearly a decade. A's parents did know - because they earned money by trafficking their daughter to men.
It's no mystery how woman end up in the Tenderloin. They are victims. Often, they are simply doing what they learned as children. Or, doing what they see others do to survive.
And given their family backgrounds, they should be considered courageous survivors. Yet, even in survival, woman often hurt and harm themselves because they were never taught to do differently.
What I see, every day, is Because Justice Matters staff loving. This is not a ministry of big numbers. We don't operate the valuable and important services like shelters or medical clinics. We honor and need those who do, but BJM's calling is different.
BJM is about relationships. Giving and loving. Forgiving and loving. Laughing, welcoming, serving, and loving.
Love looks like something - Heidi Baker said. And love looks like serving at Because Justice Matters.
Since I came, I've seen the staff make and serve coffee and tea. And clean up afterward. Prepare and present and clean up from art projects, bible studies, and Nail Day. Visit sick women, Accompany grieving women to funerals or bedsides of sick relatives. Find clothing. Hold smelly, trembling bodies. Massage lotion into chapped, street-roughened hands. Cover a shivering, scantily clothed woman with their own sweater or jacket. I see BJM staff serve and serve and serve.
We don't serve because the women are helpless or because we feel sorry for them. BJM staff serve because these woman deserve to be honored. To be treated as precious and special. To be loved and served. I often think of the many ways mothers serve their children or friends serve each other. That's the kind of serving that happens here. Love looks like something!
On Thursday, love happened. Art for the Heart - a group using art and inner healing prayer to help women understand and find freedom from past hurts and heart-wounds. K always comes. That day, she brought a new friend.
Coffee mugs and a pot of hot coffee with "fixings" were ready when the women came. The art table was prepared. We listened to worship music - as we always do. The women have learned the words to "You Are my Beautiful God" and other songs.
I read the story of Jesus and the storm. How he was sleeping in the boat and everybody said, "Jesus, WAKE UP...don't you care we're going to drown here?" Then, he commanded the storm to stop. Be Still!
We did an art project - painting the "color and feelings" of a stormy time in each person's life. We shared and prayed. Laughed and cried. A good time.
I took one woman aside to talk further. K rose from the table and began to put away all the art supplies. Washed out every water cup used for painting. Rinsed the brushes.
Then, K went into the living room and gathered up the coffee mugs. Load by load, she climbed the stairs to the kitchen, carrying mugs, sugar and cream, the empty coffee pot. I heard the sound of running water as K rinsed the mugs in the sink.
No one had said, "Would you help?" No one had asked anyone to do anything except receive. This was all K's idea. Love looks like something - and love was happening!
K was doing what had been learned. K was giving what she had received. She was following after the people who had loved her. K was serving.
I don't know what K was thinking. But I was thinking COOL! Look at this! Something is happening. Love is reproducing itself - bearing fruit. More love.
Wow.
Monday, December 30, 2013
Gift x Investment = Strength. Change is in the air....but where is the wind blowing?
It's 60+ degrees in San Francisco. Yesterday i wore sandals and used Christmas money to buy a hippie tunic. I feel at the edge of change. Maybe dressing differently (what? no more black and more black?) I suddenly, after decades of Birkenstock-wearing, want to buy a pair of those hip, cool, and trendy boots. for crying out loud, I lost 12 pounds and bought a pair of skinny pants (well, sort of skinny....let's not get carried away).
How do we know when it's time for change. I just GOT here. I love what I'm doing. It is the right place for me now. The right focus for my life in this time.
Then, other things start flying by. The Dean of Students of a ministry school in the area speaks to me about the need for healing ministry with their students. My church leaders announce a missions trip to thailand - people are needed to do healing prayer and counseling with children and adult survivors of sex trafficking. I learn that someone I want to mentor me is planning a ministry trip to Uganda. I want to go!
The possibility of more change is intriguing. And, it leaves me feeling unsettled and a bit anxious. Like I said, I just got here. I love what I'm doing. I know this is the right place for this time in my life. so, why am I feeling at the edge of change?
I remember hearing stories from exchange students and friends who moved to new locations. they often said. "About 3 months in I hit a wall. Felt tired. Easily frustrated. Wanted to go home."
Then, about 6 months in, they started to dream in the new language. Began to wake up knowing they were in their new home - not the old one. Change.
I sense that kind of change. A deeper settling. A clearer focus. Something new. Something's happening.
What I suddenly see is the change that's approaching isn't greater insight about what I'm doing. It isn't a different focus or something new I'm supposed to DO. it isn't even something else that interests me or strikes my fancy. it's change in ME. Something new and deeper happening inside.
Prior to coming to San Francisco I spent a lot of time and energy in self-discovery. Who was I, after decades of taking care of everyone else but myself? What were my real gifts? I had spent many years doing what needed to be done and putting the individual (me) aside for the good of the group (church, family, ministry, team....whatever). This wasn't terrible or wrong. It also wasn't always healthy or balanced.
So, the decision to come to San Francisco and invest in Because Justice matters was a decision to explore and invest in who I am. Where my real gifts and interests lie. What really makes my bells ring and brings me closer to the heart of Father God.
During the year prior to this change, our Madison, Wisconsin leadership team did Strength Finders. We journeyed through the DISC test and read "LEMON Leadership." I saw that I had been taught, for all my Christian life, that my "job" was to fix my weaknesses. I focused on weakness-fixing. I was barely aware of my strengths. Oh, I had taken some Christian-y "gifts" testing (often gender biased and role-oriented.....I didn't find them particularly helpful, to be honest). I wasn't confident in understanding my own strengths.
I learned things like "A wounded 'D' (Directive, dominant according to DISC descriptions) often functions as an 'S' (steadiness, service)." That helped me understand some of my history and life decisions Interesting... Did I choose service and steadiness because my directive, dominant woman-self wasn't welcome in the Christian community? Is that true? Hmmm. What does that say about my "steady, serving" self? Was that real or just a way to cope and please people??????
I discovered my Individualization strength (seeing people as individuals, valuing diversity, disliking stereotyping, bias, and lumping people into groups based on arbitrary distinctions like gender or age or whatever). This helped me understand why justice is so important to me. Why I reject and dislike certain political perspectives. Why I react so strongly when people presume to "speak for" others....assuming they know what others think, need, or experience. Men who presume to speak for women. White people who presume to know what Black people experience. Straight people to presume to explain what it's like to be gay.
I learned that TalentGifts x Investment = Strength. I learned that I am a natural networker, connector, communicator and leader. All this helped me to figure out a bit of the question "Who am I?" and "What should I be doing?"
In 2010 I finished a masters program in mental health counseling. Then, in 2012, I was ordained for ministry. My pastor, Paul - the apostle who ordained me for ministry- said I have spiritual gifts of pastoring, healing, teaching. But my heart and calling is that of an evangelist. That helped me. I've spent the past year growing in understanding that.
So I'm back to Talent/gifts x Investment = Strength.
I wonder whether the change that seems to be on the wind is change I need to foster. Strength Finder authors wrote that greatest growth comes when we build upon our strengths rather than fix our weaknesses. What would that even look like?
What would it look like for me to consciously choose situations and experiences that would invest my talent/gifts to increase strengths? If healing, teaching and pastoral care are among my gifts, how might I consciously invest in them? How would that develop and increase my Strengths?
So...this collides with years of doing good things because they simply needed to be done. Taking a job coordinating children's ministry because no one truly called to children's ministry was found. Doing the very best job I could working as a therapist with families because I needed a job that would complete my required hours for licensing as a therapist - all the while knowing my heart wasn't in it and my calling was to bring wounded women to Jesus for healing and wholeness. Sacrificing career to be home full-time with my kids.
I don't regret those choices. Yet, what would it look like to change those life-long patterns...not eliminate them, but change them. Let them mature and expand to include investment in my gifts/talents in order to grow and develop my strengths? To begin to say "I'm doing X....that's good. It needs to happen and I can do it. AND I need to do Y also....because that's where my gifts and talents lie. That's my spiritual calling."
What does this mean? I have an evangelist's heart to see every man, woman, and child know Jesus and be transformed by His great, beautiful, healing love. I long to see people healed...broken bodies, minds, and spirits made Whole. To see justice done in our communities and, especially, by people who say they follow Jesus. God has been showing me that His view of justice isn't like ours. He "does justice" with ever-greater acts of ever-more-radical LOVE.
How would I "grow" that strength? How would I consciously give space to that calling and emerging "self"? How would I invest? What would that look like?
Change is in the air. I've decided to find and wear more of the ethnic, "hippie" clothes I used to love and stopped wearing for some reason. I've set aside some money for those hip, cool, and trendy boots. Changed my hairstyle a bit, too. I'm inquiring about that missions trip to Thailand and trying to connect with the amazing woman who leads the healing teams to Uganda and elsewhere. And, I'm deepening my roots here, with BJM in the Tenderloin. Asking Dad for more relationships with more women. To show me where I can serve and support what's happening here. Looking for balance. Investing.
Waiting to see what Father God is going to do.
How do we know when it's time for change. I just GOT here. I love what I'm doing. It is the right place for me now. The right focus for my life in this time.
Then, other things start flying by. The Dean of Students of a ministry school in the area speaks to me about the need for healing ministry with their students. My church leaders announce a missions trip to thailand - people are needed to do healing prayer and counseling with children and adult survivors of sex trafficking. I learn that someone I want to mentor me is planning a ministry trip to Uganda. I want to go!
The possibility of more change is intriguing. And, it leaves me feeling unsettled and a bit anxious. Like I said, I just got here. I love what I'm doing. I know this is the right place for this time in my life. so, why am I feeling at the edge of change?
I remember hearing stories from exchange students and friends who moved to new locations. they often said. "About 3 months in I hit a wall. Felt tired. Easily frustrated. Wanted to go home."
Then, about 6 months in, they started to dream in the new language. Began to wake up knowing they were in their new home - not the old one. Change.
I sense that kind of change. A deeper settling. A clearer focus. Something new. Something's happening.
What I suddenly see is the change that's approaching isn't greater insight about what I'm doing. It isn't a different focus or something new I'm supposed to DO. it isn't even something else that interests me or strikes my fancy. it's change in ME. Something new and deeper happening inside.
Prior to coming to San Francisco I spent a lot of time and energy in self-discovery. Who was I, after decades of taking care of everyone else but myself? What were my real gifts? I had spent many years doing what needed to be done and putting the individual (me) aside for the good of the group (church, family, ministry, team....whatever). This wasn't terrible or wrong. It also wasn't always healthy or balanced.
So, the decision to come to San Francisco and invest in Because Justice matters was a decision to explore and invest in who I am. Where my real gifts and interests lie. What really makes my bells ring and brings me closer to the heart of Father God.
During the year prior to this change, our Madison, Wisconsin leadership team did Strength Finders. We journeyed through the DISC test and read "LEMON Leadership." I saw that I had been taught, for all my Christian life, that my "job" was to fix my weaknesses. I focused on weakness-fixing. I was barely aware of my strengths. Oh, I had taken some Christian-y "gifts" testing (often gender biased and role-oriented.....I didn't find them particularly helpful, to be honest). I wasn't confident in understanding my own strengths.
I learned things like "A wounded 'D' (Directive, dominant according to DISC descriptions) often functions as an 'S' (steadiness, service)." That helped me understand some of my history and life decisions Interesting... Did I choose service and steadiness because my directive, dominant woman-self wasn't welcome in the Christian community? Is that true? Hmmm. What does that say about my "steady, serving" self? Was that real or just a way to cope and please people??????
I discovered my Individualization strength (seeing people as individuals, valuing diversity, disliking stereotyping, bias, and lumping people into groups based on arbitrary distinctions like gender or age or whatever). This helped me understand why justice is so important to me. Why I reject and dislike certain political perspectives. Why I react so strongly when people presume to "speak for" others....assuming they know what others think, need, or experience. Men who presume to speak for women. White people who presume to know what Black people experience. Straight people to presume to explain what it's like to be gay.
I learned that TalentGifts x Investment = Strength. I learned that I am a natural networker, connector, communicator and leader. All this helped me to figure out a bit of the question "Who am I?" and "What should I be doing?"
In 2010 I finished a masters program in mental health counseling. Then, in 2012, I was ordained for ministry. My pastor, Paul - the apostle who ordained me for ministry- said I have spiritual gifts of pastoring, healing, teaching. But my heart and calling is that of an evangelist. That helped me. I've spent the past year growing in understanding that.
So I'm back to Talent/gifts x Investment = Strength.
I wonder whether the change that seems to be on the wind is change I need to foster. Strength Finder authors wrote that greatest growth comes when we build upon our strengths rather than fix our weaknesses. What would that even look like?
What would it look like for me to consciously choose situations and experiences that would invest my talent/gifts to increase strengths? If healing, teaching and pastoral care are among my gifts, how might I consciously invest in them? How would that develop and increase my Strengths?
So...this collides with years of doing good things because they simply needed to be done. Taking a job coordinating children's ministry because no one truly called to children's ministry was found. Doing the very best job I could working as a therapist with families because I needed a job that would complete my required hours for licensing as a therapist - all the while knowing my heart wasn't in it and my calling was to bring wounded women to Jesus for healing and wholeness. Sacrificing career to be home full-time with my kids.
I don't regret those choices. Yet, what would it look like to change those life-long patterns...not eliminate them, but change them. Let them mature and expand to include investment in my gifts/talents in order to grow and develop my strengths? To begin to say "I'm doing X....that's good. It needs to happen and I can do it. AND I need to do Y also....because that's where my gifts and talents lie. That's my spiritual calling."
What does this mean? I have an evangelist's heart to see every man, woman, and child know Jesus and be transformed by His great, beautiful, healing love. I long to see people healed...broken bodies, minds, and spirits made Whole. To see justice done in our communities and, especially, by people who say they follow Jesus. God has been showing me that His view of justice isn't like ours. He "does justice" with ever-greater acts of ever-more-radical LOVE.
How would I "grow" that strength? How would I consciously give space to that calling and emerging "self"? How would I invest? What would that look like?
Change is in the air. I've decided to find and wear more of the ethnic, "hippie" clothes I used to love and stopped wearing for some reason. I've set aside some money for those hip, cool, and trendy boots. Changed my hairstyle a bit, too. I'm inquiring about that missions trip to Thailand and trying to connect with the amazing woman who leads the healing teams to Uganda and elsewhere. And, I'm deepening my roots here, with BJM in the Tenderloin. Asking Dad for more relationships with more women. To show me where I can serve and support what's happening here. Looking for balance. Investing.
Waiting to see what Father God is going to do.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Seeking, Finding and Receiving: Jesus in the Tenderloin
Warm and beautiful in San Francisco. Not snowing in Tahoe. Christmas is coming and this girl is ready!
I've been waiting until I could post an "it's Christmas and things are wonderful" blog post. But things kept getting in the way.
Every day I see, first hand, a little of how difficult Christmas is for people without homes and distant from family. M - has no family and, it seems, may have lost one child to death and some others when she became so depressed she couldn't function and Child Protective Services got involved. yesterday she hugged me (a rare gift from her) and asked what I was going to do for christmas. I said I was going to be with my daughters. "That's good," she said. "Tell them I love them."
K has been on the streets since age 10. That's TEN for those of you who think you misread. She once said, "I had them all fooled....I was going to school and church and nobody knew [that she was homeless]." K's parents were addicts. She was molested in a foster home and escaped by running away.
Thursday, we had Art for the Heart. K played favorite songs - I Can Only Imagine and Amazing Grace on a laptop. We read the Christmas story aloud. Drank hot cider and prayed blessings over each other. Afterward, K walked back to the YWAM base with me. Juggling backpacks and a warm coat, we talked about how to know if someone is trustworthy. She decided a recent "new guy in town" didn't make the trustworthiness grade. Good insight! We laughed. She hugged me and said, "See you after Christmas. Have fun with your daughters."
In that moment I wanted to be K's mother. To replace the mom who couldn't love or keep her safe. To make her part of my family. Yet, I know I can't fix K. I don't have enough love to fill the empty hole left by all the people who were supposed to love and protect her - and didn't. I don't know what to do with that longing. Except to trust God to be the Father she never had. And the mother. And to trust God to use my small, imperfect love in K's life.
Friday I sat down with MG, a woman who has just recently started to show up at Nail Day. She told me a rambling, often repeated story of traveling here by Greyhound from Miami. Of family strung out along the East coast. Of decisions to come to California....arriving in San Francisco and wondering where were the "guys with muscles and sunglasses...palm trees and surfers" she'd expected.
"You want San Diego!" I said. "Well, I got San Francisco," she replied. "So I guess I gotta stay 'til I decide to go back to Miami."
We talked about family. Missing those far away. She spoke of estrangement and having lost contact with siblings altogether.
MG wished me a Merry Christmas. Said she'd be sure to come to Nail Day in January. Her plans? Just lay low on Christmas...maybe Glide (a local ministry that serves meals every day, 365 days a year) will have something...I don't know." She said she was going to dance at a club on New Years Eve. I'm afraid I don't expect this to be something I'd wish for her....I'm not sure what to say. But, she lets me pray for her and I bumble through....
So, Christmas comes. We move through advent...waiting for what hasn't yet arrived. Waiting for what we hope for and some things we know will come. Our hope isn't in systems or people. It isn't even in good people who try hard. To place our hope in humans would be to heap a burden on their shoulders they can't carry. Instead, Our hope is in God. In His provision and the steadiness of His love.
This Christmas, I'm receiving kindness from people who have little. I'm receiving blessings and the gift of personal stories from people who will spend Christmas alone or eat dinner at one of the many ministries, churches and programs offering meals for people without homes.
I've received Jesus in unexpected ways. He sent the BJM staff to a corner where we found a woman under the influence of drugs, barely dressed, and vulnerable to anyone who might use or abuse her. Instead, Father sent us to tie a shawl around her, pray for her, and call the Homeless Outreach team. He sent us to the corner just as a man came seeking a police officer. "There's a woman passed out between cars," he said. "I'm afraid she's going to get run over."
Father sent us....and then some kind but firm police officers. This addict evidently has fallen asleep on a manhole cover in the parking lane of a nearby street before. The cover is warm. Fragments of Crack cocaine might be found along the curb. She crawls there and passes out.
So Father sent us. To find Him. And, in each situation, we received Him.
Mother Teresa used to speak of "Jesus in a most distressing disguise." She was right. The people on the streets are Jesus - coming to meet us. Sometimes Jesus is in the heart of someone in pain. Someone in need. And, we GET to be here. To find Him. And receive Him.
We have the privilege of seeing "the least of these" - of whom Jesus said, "when you love - or give, or care for, or feed, or wrap your scarf around.....you do it to me."
Jesus has given himself to me. In the form of kindness. In the words of precious people who give generously out of their few resources. In the love of woman who don't appear to have anything together. Yet, they get it together to show love and kindness to me.
Tomorrow I leave for Lake Tahoe where I get to hang out with Becky, Alex and Alex's family (also Ean Kemp!!! One of my adopted sons who is now doing cool stuff in L.A.). Christmas eve I'll take the bus and train to Davis where Beth and Casey will pick me up. Christmas day with Casey's mom, aunt and her wonderful partner Joey, sister Alyssa and Grandma Marjorie. We'll eat and play table games. Open gifts and tell stories. We'll laugh. There will be moments of missing Rich, Casey's funny, kind, father-heart step father who died this past May.
and I will receive Jesus. there, too Jesus disguised as family. Jesus disguised as people who have welcomed me into their family circles with generosity and love.
I am fortunate beyond words.
My wish for all of you is to find Jesus in your Christmas. to see Him waiting for you in a family member. Looking through the eyes of the Salvation Army bell ringer or a homeless man asking for money. To hear His voice in the kind words of others - or your own kind words to others. Jesus is waiting.
Blessing and love. Merry Christmas.
I've been waiting until I could post an "it's Christmas and things are wonderful" blog post. But things kept getting in the way.
Every day I see, first hand, a little of how difficult Christmas is for people without homes and distant from family. M - has no family and, it seems, may have lost one child to death and some others when she became so depressed she couldn't function and Child Protective Services got involved. yesterday she hugged me (a rare gift from her) and asked what I was going to do for christmas. I said I was going to be with my daughters. "That's good," she said. "Tell them I love them."
K has been on the streets since age 10. That's TEN for those of you who think you misread. She once said, "I had them all fooled....I was going to school and church and nobody knew [that she was homeless]." K's parents were addicts. She was molested in a foster home and escaped by running away.
Thursday, we had Art for the Heart. K played favorite songs - I Can Only Imagine and Amazing Grace on a laptop. We read the Christmas story aloud. Drank hot cider and prayed blessings over each other. Afterward, K walked back to the YWAM base with me. Juggling backpacks and a warm coat, we talked about how to know if someone is trustworthy. She decided a recent "new guy in town" didn't make the trustworthiness grade. Good insight! We laughed. She hugged me and said, "See you after Christmas. Have fun with your daughters."
In that moment I wanted to be K's mother. To replace the mom who couldn't love or keep her safe. To make her part of my family. Yet, I know I can't fix K. I don't have enough love to fill the empty hole left by all the people who were supposed to love and protect her - and didn't. I don't know what to do with that longing. Except to trust God to be the Father she never had. And the mother. And to trust God to use my small, imperfect love in K's life.
Friday I sat down with MG, a woman who has just recently started to show up at Nail Day. She told me a rambling, often repeated story of traveling here by Greyhound from Miami. Of family strung out along the East coast. Of decisions to come to California....arriving in San Francisco and wondering where were the "guys with muscles and sunglasses...palm trees and surfers" she'd expected.
"You want San Diego!" I said. "Well, I got San Francisco," she replied. "So I guess I gotta stay 'til I decide to go back to Miami."
We talked about family. Missing those far away. She spoke of estrangement and having lost contact with siblings altogether.
MG wished me a Merry Christmas. Said she'd be sure to come to Nail Day in January. Her plans? Just lay low on Christmas...maybe Glide (a local ministry that serves meals every day, 365 days a year) will have something...I don't know." She said she was going to dance at a club on New Years Eve. I'm afraid I don't expect this to be something I'd wish for her....I'm not sure what to say. But, she lets me pray for her and I bumble through....
So, Christmas comes. We move through advent...waiting for what hasn't yet arrived. Waiting for what we hope for and some things we know will come. Our hope isn't in systems or people. It isn't even in good people who try hard. To place our hope in humans would be to heap a burden on their shoulders they can't carry. Instead, Our hope is in God. In His provision and the steadiness of His love.
This Christmas, I'm receiving kindness from people who have little. I'm receiving blessings and the gift of personal stories from people who will spend Christmas alone or eat dinner at one of the many ministries, churches and programs offering meals for people without homes.
I've received Jesus in unexpected ways. He sent the BJM staff to a corner where we found a woman under the influence of drugs, barely dressed, and vulnerable to anyone who might use or abuse her. Instead, Father sent us to tie a shawl around her, pray for her, and call the Homeless Outreach team. He sent us to the corner just as a man came seeking a police officer. "There's a woman passed out between cars," he said. "I'm afraid she's going to get run over."
Father sent us....and then some kind but firm police officers. This addict evidently has fallen asleep on a manhole cover in the parking lane of a nearby street before. The cover is warm. Fragments of Crack cocaine might be found along the curb. She crawls there and passes out.
So Father sent us. To find Him. And, in each situation, we received Him.
Mother Teresa used to speak of "Jesus in a most distressing disguise." She was right. The people on the streets are Jesus - coming to meet us. Sometimes Jesus is in the heart of someone in pain. Someone in need. And, we GET to be here. To find Him. And receive Him.
We have the privilege of seeing "the least of these" - of whom Jesus said, "when you love - or give, or care for, or feed, or wrap your scarf around.....you do it to me."
Jesus has given himself to me. In the form of kindness. In the words of precious people who give generously out of their few resources. In the love of woman who don't appear to have anything together. Yet, they get it together to show love and kindness to me.
Tomorrow I leave for Lake Tahoe where I get to hang out with Becky, Alex and Alex's family (also Ean Kemp!!! One of my adopted sons who is now doing cool stuff in L.A.). Christmas eve I'll take the bus and train to Davis where Beth and Casey will pick me up. Christmas day with Casey's mom, aunt and her wonderful partner Joey, sister Alyssa and Grandma Marjorie. We'll eat and play table games. Open gifts and tell stories. We'll laugh. There will be moments of missing Rich, Casey's funny, kind, father-heart step father who died this past May.
and I will receive Jesus. there, too Jesus disguised as family. Jesus disguised as people who have welcomed me into their family circles with generosity and love.
I am fortunate beyond words.
My wish for all of you is to find Jesus in your Christmas. to see Him waiting for you in a family member. Looking through the eyes of the Salvation Army bell ringer or a homeless man asking for money. To hear His voice in the kind words of others - or your own kind words to others. Jesus is waiting.
Blessing and love. Merry Christmas.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Living in the School of I Can't....Continued....
will all of you freezing in the midwest or New York or Washington or??? hate me if I whine that it's cold in San Francisco?
The temp hovers around 40 at night. I watched the folks across the street or in front of the YWAM base move around all day on the concrete, following "warm spots" where the sun shines. Then, one night rained, and I woke in the middle of the night thinking "hypothermia." A few people who are especially vulnerable crowded into my mind and prayers. I lay awake worrying and praying. I fixed on images like hot soup and blankets and cried out to God to help women I'll call Anna and Wanda, Adrienne and Danae.
Wednesday, W hauled her two shopping carts into the women's center. Someone had stolen the blue painters' tarp she uses to cover her things. The cardboard she uses to shield herself from the cold concrete had been left behind in a sodden pile somewhere. She had wrapped herself in clothes and a dirty piece of cloth.
Her body was cold to the touch and trembling. But, as is the case with many women who have survived ongoing, violent trauma, her body and mind are disconnected. The cold and trembling didn't register at all. W. smiled and chatted. "Not too bad," she said. 'I found a restaurant where they let me sit for a couple of hours. But they stole my tarp." The sweater she often wore was also nowhere to be seen. Her arms and hands were filthy. We gathered her into the women's center and concern showed on every face.
W continued to chat as we peeled layers of wet clothing away and helped her put on a thick, hooded sweatshirt, warm socks, and thermal leggings. We wrapped her in a blanket. In minutes, she fell asleep....sitting up.
She slept through much of Breaking Free - a dvd bible study some women have been doing since fall. She woke to drink some hot tea and dozed off again.
When the study was over, she woke to drink some more tea. "Can we go with you to the shelter next door?" we asked. "It's getting colder and looks like more rain tonight." W. changed the subject.
"Please. We're concerned about you," we said. "Just for tonight. Just to keep out of the rain...."
She shook her head and began a convoluted story about some sick friend whom she had "promised to check in on."
In the end, W. said No. She wouldn't be sleeping inside that night. It was both painful to hear and hard to understand.
W. lives with mental illness. She is sometimes clear=minded and creative. Sometimes paranoid or grandious. It's not clear whether her stories of competitive ice skating or pursuing professional dance are lies, fantasy or long-past truth of a life before drugs, poverty and homelessness. W says she has "lived outside" for nearly a decade. She doesn't like the word "homeless." We believe her when she speaks of emotional and physical abuse and about losing children to drugs and foster care. We listen to her creative ideas about cooking and her dream of feeding homeless people healthy, delicious food. We are filled with love and frustration. Worry and respect.
How do we love her well? We can't fix her. We can't solve the complexity of her mental illness and trauma-based paranoia. We can't force her to sleep inside on a cold, rainy night.
Yesterday, two therapist-friends from Illinois and California respectively visited the BJM staff, spending the morning with us at The Well. They spoke about calling out, affirming, naming, and declaring God's love over a person's spirit. My heart beat faster. Counseling is helpful stuff....it helps people think more clearly, choose more wisely, and understand, experience, and manage real, honest and life-giving emotions. Yeah! But Margaret and Kara spoke about the spirit. Each individual's spirit. And how our spirits were made to be filled with and alive in God's love.
W's ability to think, choose and feel is damaged by mental illness and years of trauma and abuse. But, the deeper hurt lies is her spirit - her identity, worth and true self. Her spirit has been crushed and wounded. Her spirit has gone into hiding, like a frightened child slipping under the bed, hoping to escape chaos and violence. Her spirit has separated from her body and disconnected from her soul - her mind, will, and emotions. Perhaps her spirit is sleeping or unable to hear, see or speak. Perhaps she has forgotten that she even has a spirit and lives only in the raw emotions, thoughts, and choices of each moment.
So, on Monday when W. pulls her carts into the Nail Day Christmas party, my eyes and heart will be on her spirit. On her identity. The true, beautiful, beloved self that God himself breathed into her at conception. When she became a living being. Beloved and worthy of love.
I can't fix her. Only God can heal her wounded spirit.
So, I will call to her spirit. Affirm and bless her spirit. I'm asking Father God to give me words to say that will slip under the protective wall she hides behind and touch her true self - her spirit - with love.
Would you join me? Would you declare over W. that "God loves you. God is calling you home. To himself. Wake, beautiful spirit. Rise up. Open your eyes. It is safe to come home. Father God is in the house, and it's safe to come home."
The temp hovers around 40 at night. I watched the folks across the street or in front of the YWAM base move around all day on the concrete, following "warm spots" where the sun shines. Then, one night rained, and I woke in the middle of the night thinking "hypothermia." A few people who are especially vulnerable crowded into my mind and prayers. I lay awake worrying and praying. I fixed on images like hot soup and blankets and cried out to God to help women I'll call Anna and Wanda, Adrienne and Danae.
Wednesday, W hauled her two shopping carts into the women's center. Someone had stolen the blue painters' tarp she uses to cover her things. The cardboard she uses to shield herself from the cold concrete had been left behind in a sodden pile somewhere. She had wrapped herself in clothes and a dirty piece of cloth.
Her body was cold to the touch and trembling. But, as is the case with many women who have survived ongoing, violent trauma, her body and mind are disconnected. The cold and trembling didn't register at all. W. smiled and chatted. "Not too bad," she said. 'I found a restaurant where they let me sit for a couple of hours. But they stole my tarp." The sweater she often wore was also nowhere to be seen. Her arms and hands were filthy. We gathered her into the women's center and concern showed on every face.
W continued to chat as we peeled layers of wet clothing away and helped her put on a thick, hooded sweatshirt, warm socks, and thermal leggings. We wrapped her in a blanket. In minutes, she fell asleep....sitting up.
She slept through much of Breaking Free - a dvd bible study some women have been doing since fall. She woke to drink some hot tea and dozed off again.
When the study was over, she woke to drink some more tea. "Can we go with you to the shelter next door?" we asked. "It's getting colder and looks like more rain tonight." W. changed the subject.
"Please. We're concerned about you," we said. "Just for tonight. Just to keep out of the rain...."
She shook her head and began a convoluted story about some sick friend whom she had "promised to check in on."
In the end, W. said No. She wouldn't be sleeping inside that night. It was both painful to hear and hard to understand.
W. lives with mental illness. She is sometimes clear=minded and creative. Sometimes paranoid or grandious. It's not clear whether her stories of competitive ice skating or pursuing professional dance are lies, fantasy or long-past truth of a life before drugs, poverty and homelessness. W says she has "lived outside" for nearly a decade. She doesn't like the word "homeless." We believe her when she speaks of emotional and physical abuse and about losing children to drugs and foster care. We listen to her creative ideas about cooking and her dream of feeding homeless people healthy, delicious food. We are filled with love and frustration. Worry and respect.
How do we love her well? We can't fix her. We can't solve the complexity of her mental illness and trauma-based paranoia. We can't force her to sleep inside on a cold, rainy night.
Yesterday, two therapist-friends from Illinois and California respectively visited the BJM staff, spending the morning with us at The Well. They spoke about calling out, affirming, naming, and declaring God's love over a person's spirit. My heart beat faster. Counseling is helpful stuff....it helps people think more clearly, choose more wisely, and understand, experience, and manage real, honest and life-giving emotions. Yeah! But Margaret and Kara spoke about the spirit. Each individual's spirit. And how our spirits were made to be filled with and alive in God's love.
W's ability to think, choose and feel is damaged by mental illness and years of trauma and abuse. But, the deeper hurt lies is her spirit - her identity, worth and true self. Her spirit has been crushed and wounded. Her spirit has gone into hiding, like a frightened child slipping under the bed, hoping to escape chaos and violence. Her spirit has separated from her body and disconnected from her soul - her mind, will, and emotions. Perhaps her spirit is sleeping or unable to hear, see or speak. Perhaps she has forgotten that she even has a spirit and lives only in the raw emotions, thoughts, and choices of each moment.
So, on Monday when W. pulls her carts into the Nail Day Christmas party, my eyes and heart will be on her spirit. On her identity. The true, beautiful, beloved self that God himself breathed into her at conception. When she became a living being. Beloved and worthy of love.
I can't fix her. Only God can heal her wounded spirit.
So, I will call to her spirit. Affirm and bless her spirit. I'm asking Father God to give me words to say that will slip under the protective wall she hides behind and touch her true self - her spirit - with love.
Would you join me? Would you declare over W. that "God loves you. God is calling you home. To himself. Wake, beautiful spirit. Rise up. Open your eyes. It is safe to come home. Father God is in the house, and it's safe to come home."
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Home-making
this weekend I put together a chair and ottoman from ikea. The pictures-only directions didn't help me much. There was muttering, outcries, and a couple of less-than-presentable terms used. In the end, I did what I didn't think the directions were saying and finally got the parts attached to the right other parts - facing the right directions. Now, Im sitting in this comfy chair with my feet up.
I ordered a twin mattress, bookshelf, and a second chair. Once the mattress arrived, I got rid of the full-sized bed that took up (no kidding) half my little room. Rolled out the beautiful wool rug I brought from madison. Some special items - beautiful cobalt blue glass balls in a bowl. An art tile of a woman with auburn hair. An earth-toned tray with beveled glass center. All these things now reside in my little space.
It is becoming a home. A safe place of r & r for me. A welcoming, warm place where my daughter Beth visited. We ate sushi and talked. Home.
I am so grateful for this place. I know God brought me here and I don't take it for granted that I have this space.
This month one of the women who comes to Nail Day every single week was in trouble. She was afraid she might harm herself and checked into a hospital. BJM staff were the people she listed as "emergency contacts" - she had no one else. BJM is her family. Her address? a shelter for women in the Tenderloin. This is one meaning of the word "homeless"....to be truly without a home. Someone else's address used as a temporary fill-in-the-blank for social services or medical providers.
Another woman showed up recently in San Francisco. She is paranoid, often roams from topic to topic in conversation, and seems "stuck" in painful memories of the past. Those memories are a kind of "home" for her. She returns to them when she feels afraid. She hopes that their resolution might stop the emotional pain. She comes to the women's center on Tuesday and Wednesday. To nail day every Monday. Because Justice Matters and the women's center has become a sanctuary for her. A home, of sorts.
Because Justice Matters isn't a "big result" program. Our numbers aren't large. Our impact is small and personal. It is all about relationships. One-on-one. Small groups seated around a table. 5 or 6 cups and a pot of hot coffee.
I want to learn how to open my heart to help create a home for women. To make space and time in my life for relationships that really mean something. That offer safety. Knowing and being known.
Relationships. Family. Home.
I ordered a twin mattress, bookshelf, and a second chair. Once the mattress arrived, I got rid of the full-sized bed that took up (no kidding) half my little room. Rolled out the beautiful wool rug I brought from madison. Some special items - beautiful cobalt blue glass balls in a bowl. An art tile of a woman with auburn hair. An earth-toned tray with beveled glass center. All these things now reside in my little space.
It is becoming a home. A safe place of r & r for me. A welcoming, warm place where my daughter Beth visited. We ate sushi and talked. Home.
I am so grateful for this place. I know God brought me here and I don't take it for granted that I have this space.
This month one of the women who comes to Nail Day every single week was in trouble. She was afraid she might harm herself and checked into a hospital. BJM staff were the people she listed as "emergency contacts" - she had no one else. BJM is her family. Her address? a shelter for women in the Tenderloin. This is one meaning of the word "homeless"....to be truly without a home. Someone else's address used as a temporary fill-in-the-blank for social services or medical providers.
Another woman showed up recently in San Francisco. She is paranoid, often roams from topic to topic in conversation, and seems "stuck" in painful memories of the past. Those memories are a kind of "home" for her. She returns to them when she feels afraid. She hopes that their resolution might stop the emotional pain. She comes to the women's center on Tuesday and Wednesday. To nail day every Monday. Because Justice Matters and the women's center has become a sanctuary for her. A home, of sorts.
Because Justice Matters isn't a "big result" program. Our numbers aren't large. Our impact is small and personal. It is all about relationships. One-on-one. Small groups seated around a table. 5 or 6 cups and a pot of hot coffee.
I want to learn how to open my heart to help create a home for women. To make space and time in my life for relationships that really mean something. That offer safety. Knowing and being known.
Relationships. Family. Home.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
wake my spirit!
What a week! Last week I was in Redding attending the international Sozo Summit, racing to spend a morning talking with Bethel School of Supernatural Ministry students about BJM and ministry in the Tenderloin. Then, more summit stuff and home to finish the week.
This week has been a front row seat to the amazing courage, dignity, and God-hunger of the women who come to BJM. A week when I feel honored to even be in the room!
The women who come to The Well are hungry to know God. 5 women came to our Wednesday bible study about domestic violence. Thursday 3 more came to a group called Breaking Free.
to hear these women share honestly about issues in their lives instead of hide those struggles to look good to others.
A isn't at all sure about Jesus. God....sort of. But Jesus? The jury is still out. Yet, I heard A pray for another woman with such compassion and gentleness and TRUST in God. A gathered faith from every corner of the heart to say "God, here's my friend. She needs a miracle. You are the only one we can trust."
I feel like Im in the school of "I can't' much of the time. Where, if God doesn't show up and keep His promises, I am helpless to make any difference. I often feel as if I'm closing my eyes and saying, "God, I'm trusting you here...." The women I'm supposed to be "helping" then are the ones who affirm that God can be counted on. That nothing is too hard for him.
Early in the week, J feared she might harm herself. She did exactly the right thing - and BJM received a call saying she was safe but pretty fragile.
When LIndsay and Lisa went to visit J wanted prayer. She wanted God to help with nightmares and PTSD flashbacks. And, this courageous little person willingly forgave someone who hurt and harmed her terribly. The person responsible for those flashbacks and nightmares. God spoke so gently and with so much love right into the hurt and harm. Right into her wounded heart.
Another person has learned to listen to God in every situation. Week after week over coffee, S. has been practicing the discipline of saying, "Father, what do you say?.....What do you want me to know?" Choosing God's ways in small things and large. Choosing.....and changing.
An opportunity came suddenly to S. A sudden move now seemed possible. After waiting a long time to leave the Tenderloin for "something better....anything better...a healthy place full of healthy people..." S. really wanted to go. YWAM friends asked...are you going back to old patterns of impulsive decision making? But, S has changed SO much in the past year. S said, "I can do this. I've grown a lot. I'm not the person I was."
That is absolutely true. Yet, S was encouraged to "ask Dad" before making this major life decision.
Today I got a call. S. was at the door of the women's center. Could I talk a minute?
S.'s eyes filled with tears. S. spoke about the dream of leaving the Tenderloin and making a new life "someplace with clean streets and healthy people." The opportunity to relocate seemed perfect.
But, during the previous night, S said, "I saw Jesus. He took me into a little room and closed the door. He said, "We need to talk."
Jesus said, "Not now." He told S. that God could bless regardless of S's decision, but leaving now wasn't God's first choice.
S. confessed to feeling angry with God. Deeply sad. Afraid the dream might never happen.
And, I was filled with admiration and JOY as S said, "I am staying. I want God's best. I still feel angry and sad and disappointed. But I want God more."
S is becoming more and more like Jesus - who "only did what He saw His Father in heaven doing." J is becoming more like Jesus - forgiving even when the wrongdoer never apologized or even recognized the pain and harm they'd caused. Choosing to say, I forgive. A. keeps moving closer and closer to this beautiful, infinitely kind Jesus whose love and words are so challenging and off the charts. I believe her heart wants what her heart wants - And, in spite of all the avoiding and re-framing and trying to keep from loving Him, His love keeps drawing her back. Soon and very soon!
so. What a week in the TL. Outside the women's center, there was an awful fight that left pools of blood on the sidewalk. The long lines of elderly folks waiting for the Thursday food pantry are annoying the neighbors and creating a safety hazard. The police are annoyed. Rats got into the basement maintenance room. Yesterday, a disheveled man looked up from the sidewalk and smiled at me - just as he licked his skin (poor man's alcohol swab) and jabbed a needle into his arm. I saw a young woman standing next to her pimp. she rocked a stroller holding a sweet, round-faced baby named Rain . Jesus, come and save! You are our only hope!
And, meanwhile, A was praying with compassion. J was forgiving terrible wrongs. And S was choosing God even when every emotion was pain and loss.
LIke I said. This was a week of courage and beauty in the Tenderloin. I'm honored just being in the room!
This week has been a front row seat to the amazing courage, dignity, and God-hunger of the women who come to BJM. A week when I feel honored to even be in the room!
The women who come to The Well are hungry to know God. 5 women came to our Wednesday bible study about domestic violence. Thursday 3 more came to a group called Breaking Free.
to hear these women share honestly about issues in their lives instead of hide those struggles to look good to others.
A isn't at all sure about Jesus. God....sort of. But Jesus? The jury is still out. Yet, I heard A pray for another woman with such compassion and gentleness and TRUST in God. A gathered faith from every corner of the heart to say "God, here's my friend. She needs a miracle. You are the only one we can trust."
I feel like Im in the school of "I can't' much of the time. Where, if God doesn't show up and keep His promises, I am helpless to make any difference. I often feel as if I'm closing my eyes and saying, "God, I'm trusting you here...." The women I'm supposed to be "helping" then are the ones who affirm that God can be counted on. That nothing is too hard for him.
Early in the week, J feared she might harm herself. She did exactly the right thing - and BJM received a call saying she was safe but pretty fragile.
When LIndsay and Lisa went to visit J wanted prayer. She wanted God to help with nightmares and PTSD flashbacks. And, this courageous little person willingly forgave someone who hurt and harmed her terribly. The person responsible for those flashbacks and nightmares. God spoke so gently and with so much love right into the hurt and harm. Right into her wounded heart.
Another person has learned to listen to God in every situation. Week after week over coffee, S. has been practicing the discipline of saying, "Father, what do you say?.....What do you want me to know?" Choosing God's ways in small things and large. Choosing.....and changing.
An opportunity came suddenly to S. A sudden move now seemed possible. After waiting a long time to leave the Tenderloin for "something better....anything better...a healthy place full of healthy people..." S. really wanted to go. YWAM friends asked...are you going back to old patterns of impulsive decision making? But, S has changed SO much in the past year. S said, "I can do this. I've grown a lot. I'm not the person I was."
That is absolutely true. Yet, S was encouraged to "ask Dad" before making this major life decision.
Today I got a call. S. was at the door of the women's center. Could I talk a minute?
S.'s eyes filled with tears. S. spoke about the dream of leaving the Tenderloin and making a new life "someplace with clean streets and healthy people." The opportunity to relocate seemed perfect.
But, during the previous night, S said, "I saw Jesus. He took me into a little room and closed the door. He said, "We need to talk."
Jesus said, "Not now." He told S. that God could bless regardless of S's decision, but leaving now wasn't God's first choice.
S. confessed to feeling angry with God. Deeply sad. Afraid the dream might never happen.
And, I was filled with admiration and JOY as S said, "I am staying. I want God's best. I still feel angry and sad and disappointed. But I want God more."
S is becoming more and more like Jesus - who "only did what He saw His Father in heaven doing." J is becoming more like Jesus - forgiving even when the wrongdoer never apologized or even recognized the pain and harm they'd caused. Choosing to say, I forgive. A. keeps moving closer and closer to this beautiful, infinitely kind Jesus whose love and words are so challenging and off the charts. I believe her heart wants what her heart wants - And, in spite of all the avoiding and re-framing and trying to keep from loving Him, His love keeps drawing her back. Soon and very soon!
so. What a week in the TL. Outside the women's center, there was an awful fight that left pools of blood on the sidewalk. The long lines of elderly folks waiting for the Thursday food pantry are annoying the neighbors and creating a safety hazard. The police are annoyed. Rats got into the basement maintenance room. Yesterday, a disheveled man looked up from the sidewalk and smiled at me - just as he licked his skin (poor man's alcohol swab) and jabbed a needle into his arm. I saw a young woman standing next to her pimp. she rocked a stroller holding a sweet, round-faced baby named Rain . Jesus, come and save! You are our only hope!
And, meanwhile, A was praying with compassion. J was forgiving terrible wrongs. And S was choosing God even when every emotion was pain and loss.
LIke I said. This was a week of courage and beauty in the Tenderloin. I'm honored just being in the room!
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