Change comes from unexpected places....A morning at the Domestic Violence women's shelter

Thinking today about Domestic Violence in faith communities - because I got to give a presentation about how shelters and DV advocates can help women use their own faith to recover and heal from Domestic Violence.

Studies consistently show that women of faith are more likely to recover and heal emotionally and in life from the wounds of domestic violence and abuse IF their faith is part of that recovery and healing.

These Advocates-in-Training were an interesting group: an ex-Catholic priest from Brazil; a young Muslim woman, ex-church members disillusioned by the behavior and anti-everything spirit they see among Christians; a number of cultural and "holiday only " Jews.

One women - who looked about 18 but must have been in her mid-late 20s, said she used to work for a national Abortion Advocacy group.  She said, "We hated the 'God calls" from women who felt guilty about their choice."  she then said, "Every woman. EVERY woman who callecd our hotline was in poverty, afraid, and alone. They all were afraid they couldn't raise a child. I remember one woman with 2 little kids...pregnant again. One of those husbands who wasn't out of work...he just didn't work....ever.  She was Catholic and was afraid she'd go to hell."

The woman described her conversation with this caller. She said, "My job wasn't to talk her into anything. So I just asked her questions like, 'did she believe God loved her? Did she believe God was forgiving?"

As she's speaking, I hear her compassion for the women at the other end of her crisis line phone. And, my heart is sinking because I realize she was "helping" these women justify taking the life of their unborn child. And, I knew the emotional and spiritual cost that decision would - sooner or later - exact from their hearts. whether through hardness and dissociation or PTSD and tearing regret that would feel like a wound beyond healing.

Then, the young woman said, "I wouldn't have described myself as a person of faith then. but now I do. What I discovered was, the women who believed. You know, the God calls....they may have been poor and afraid, but they weren't alone. They had God."

What a Jesus moment. I thought, in a flash, of the woman caught in adultery. And, how, historically, many Christians have been offended that He didn't confront her with her sin and that scripture never records her "confessing and asking forgiveness." Instead, Jesus extended grace and kindness. Before he said anything else, he said, "I don't condemn you."  And this, to a woman condemned by everybody.  After all, she was an adultress (at least) and quite probably in the sex trade - selling her body for money.

Yet, Jesus SAW her. Loved her. Refused to condemn her.  Even when he said, "Go, and sin no more," we have no record of her "making it right."  Interesting. Breaks all the rules!  Aren't we supposed to see our sin, confess, and THEN we are forgiven? isn't that how it works?

Yet, here is the young woman - not saying, "I found Jesus" or "Now I'm a Christian and I'm pro-life."
Instead, she honestly said - in front of a room of her hip. "not religious" peers - that the "God people" had changed her. Their faith - seen in the midst of panic and shame and a decision whether to give in to fear and "solve" a problem by having an abortion - had actually changed HER.

Here she was - making eye contact for SO long with me as I talked about faith as a "defining moment of identity" for many people. And shared my own story as an example.

You see, I found Jesus through the story of that woman "caught in the act" and the men with their stones of judgement and death. And Jesus. Kneeling there in front of her. Putting Himself between her and the stone-throwers. Doodling in the sand with his finger.

"I didn't know anything about the Old Testament or new Testament or theology," I said. "I only knew that Jesus was SO smart. How did He know to tell the guys with the stones 'let the one among you who has never sinned throw the first stone'?....

All I knew was I liked this Jesus. And, I wanted to be loved like Jesus loved that woman."

The young Advocate-in-Training sat across the table from me. Her eyes looking into mine.

I wondered what Jesus was doing. Right at that moment. In her heart? 

How was he showing himself to her?  Calling her closer?

I realized, on the long walk home, that God is never too proud to meet us wherever we are. On the Abortion Advocates hotline. On the street, caught in the act of whatever we're doing that we should be.  In the privacy of our minds where we harbor doubt and give in to fear.

He meets us there. And doesn't condemn us. And draws us close.

And we are changed.  And I thought, "THIS is what real evangelism looks like."

Advent: Thoughts on Waiting While the World Burns

Advent. It's been so long since my family sat around the dining table every night and sang "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." So many years since a child placed one more square on our advent calendar each evening. I still have those felt squares. Each one a beautiful, hand-made labor of love. One year, I created them - one at a time. Scissors and felt and glue. Tiny beads and bits of gold. Night after night from fall until that first Sunday of Advent. "

A tree stump with a tiny sprouting branch. A small green leaf. "The root of Jesse shall spring a branch" A small cottage-like house with a thatched roof. "From you, O Bethlehem...little among the thousands of Judah, from you will come One who will rule Israel" An angel, with pearl-edged wings and lifted arms and a small, kneeling figure with long, dark hair. "Greetings, favored one!.... The Holy Spirit will come upon you and you shall give birth to a son."

Advent. A time to make our hearts ready. A time to make room in my heart for Jesus to be born. For Jesus and His ways to be formed again in me.

This Advent, the world is burning. Our nation is in deep darkness.
This Advent I will either choose to be a Light or I will harden my heart in anger.
This Advent I feel discouraged and afraid. I cannot convince anyone to change. I cannot convince anyone that trusting God while the world is in flames is freedom - not foolishness. I can't force anyone's eyes open to actually SEE human beings instead of images or fears.

I can only try to be Light and speak the words again.

"O Come, O Come Emmanuel. And ransom captive Israel. That mourns in lonely exile here. Until the Son of God appears."

Hairy Week, Smart Friends

Saturday Morning in the TL

This has been a hairy week. Monday someone had suicidal thoughts. Tuesday I didn't accomplish ANYTHING. Wednesday a woman who meets her needs by manipulation and control crashed Movie Day. By Thursday I decided nobody anywhere was allowed to have any more crises. The royal decree didn't work so well, but I tried!

With a week full of hearing stories of pain and hurt, I've been looking for wisdom. Well, mostly I've been muttering, "Helpmehelpmehelpmehelpme....I don't know what on earth I'm doing."

Good thing that I'm surrounded by wise people.  Here are the conversations that got me through the week (in my own words):

Jolene: No matter what happens, I can choose LIFE. It doesn't ever look the same for anyone, but in every situation, I can ask God, "What does it look like to choose life right now. Today. This minute?"
Tomorrow, it won't look like it does today. Maybe today I'm crying my eyes out. Maybe tomorrow I will have hope. But every day I can choose life.

Karol: That rhythms of discipline lead to life. That discipline isn't about punishment or 'doing right' to avoid God's displeasure. It's about practiced, steady, determined walking with Holy Spirit. In God's moment-by-moment presence. "I don't want to skip my quiet time because I don't want to miss what He has for me. The goodness of my time alone with Him."

Justine: In all the demands of being mom to three children under the age of 5, it's easy to just "keep going" and "keep doing." "I can end up believing I have to do it myself. And then I do it myself." Her wisdom is showing me how, in doing it myself I miss the opportunity to partner with God. To be carried and supported and built up by His love. Often, I can "pull it off" (what ever "it" is) but, in doing so, I miss the offer of intimacy and love that God wants to give me in the very circumstance I'm busy doing.

Laina: This week Laina recognized that she had two unique skills: a degree in nutrition and training as a life coach. So, she comes to YWAM San Francisco, intending to help staff the Discipleship Training School. A big need is someone to manage the kitchen - with 3 daily meals to cook for students, staff, speakers and other random people, someone needs to bring order out of chaos.
After a few weeks with Laina at the helm, the atmosphere of the kitchen has changed. People are coming to make coffee and hang out while she cooks. Students come to talk and help with dinner prep. She said, "Sometimes I just chop and listen."
Of course! Laina cares about feeding people good food. She cares about listening and encouraging people. She's not just managing the kitchen - she's making the kitchen into the heart of the base.

Tim: There is a difference between expectancy and expectation. The hopeful rising-up of expectancy comes from trust and a history of being loved. Of God's dependable care and Presence.  Expectation is something we try to define. We expect to receive. We are expected, in turn, to earn and deserve.  In expectancy, my heart is encouraged and free.  In expectation, I fear disappointment. I wonder if, when things don't look the way I expected, either I have failed or God has. In expectancy, my eyes are on the always-dependable, always-trustworthy love of my Father for me.

I am so grateful to live surrounded by wise, loving people.
After a not-so-great week, I was lifted up and brought back to shining hope by the lives and thoughts of my YWAM San Francisco family.

Article on Homelessness....Previous Post continued

http://aplus.com/a/canada-solves-homelessness-problems

Isaac Saul @Ike_Saul

Solutions to Homelessness: Thoughts from the TL

I just read an interesting FB post citing an article about a Canadian city addressing homelessness i a unique way (http://aplus.com/a/canada-solves-homelessness-problems)

Because I work with, love, am friends with and daily get to hug homeless women in San Francisco, this approach to homelessness interests me very much. I've been following the outcomes in Utah as well where cities like Salt Lake are seeing pretty drastic changes in BOTH the costs of helping homeless people and the actual results in terms of health, sobriety, ability to get jobs etc. 

Let me tell you one story that is a mirror of what I see EVERY TIME a homeless woman gets housing here. That housing creates a safety net where change can happen. 

D. lived on the streets. She is a survivor of horrifying childhood trauma and has had a rough life - in and out of addiction and mental illness. She was married at one time and had children (It's unclear how many) Her mental illness escalated when her husband became physically abusive. Her children were taken by Child Protective Services. To this day, she grieves these children and says, "I tried. I loved them. I wanted to be a good mother." 

When D lived on the streets, she used to carry a piece of 2x4 to defend herself. One day, I found her crouched on the sidewalk, pointing a piece of metal at passing cars - reflecting sunlight at them. She urgently called me to come and sit next to her. "Hurry up. If they see you, they'll catch you and put things inside of you." She assured me she would keep ME safe. (Oh Jesus! My heart cried out!). She let me pray for her, but she was pretty out of reality....Except the possibility of violence wasn't unreality. 

D let the women of Because Justice Matters (BJM)  love her. Let us pray with her. Sometimes came to Nail Day for coffee and brownies and kindness. BUT SHE WAS LIKE A SIEVE...SHE COULDN'T "HOLD" ANYTHING WE POURED IN BECAUSE DAILY LIFE WAS SO TRAUMATIC AND TERRIFYING. 

SO...about a year later, D's application for disability was approved (I think it was the 3rd request....BLESS her case manager, who had to lead her by the hand through every single step because she was too mentally ill to follow through on anything) Then, D had some money. Her case manager had been applying for housing. Then, one day D. came and told us she "had a place" We visited. It was in a filthy building. Third world squalor was the word that came to my mind. BUT it had a roof and a door that locked and, for the first time in years (decades? who knows?) D. could actually sleep safely at hight. What happened? Nothing at first. Then, we began to see changes. She began to wash her clothes. The started using her limited funds to buy clothes at Goodwill. Who knew D. was a vintage clothing diva? She stopped burning her hair off with a BIC lighter and got a haircut when a local non-profit brought in volunteer stylists. She gained weight. And, more and more, she began to make sense. Sometimes she still is "off" She is able to remember to take her medication which really helps her mental illness. She comes to Nail Day and sometimes to The Well. We laugh with her (she's absolutely hilarious when she's feeling sane and safe). We pray as often as she feels safe enough to let us. And, not long ago, a SF photographer saw her walking through the Tenderloin wearing a gorgeous vintage coat she found at Goodwill. He saw her striking blue eyes and weather-worn but still beautiful face. A photo of D. showed up in the San Francisco Chronicle. Today, it hangs in our office as a reminder. SO in all this journey, the turning point was HOUSING.

Balance Beam Living: Boundaries and Truth-speaking

Thinking today about a challenging balance...truth-speaking and speaking for myself.

 Like one of my heroes Danny Silk says:  I manage me. You manage you. I don't try to manage you.  I don't let you manage me. 

This has been a foundation stone of my growth in boundary setting (from pretty much no boundaries ever to generally sane boundaries most of the time!).

"I don't try to manage you".....The principle of not speaking for others who are perfectly able to speak for themselves. Not speaking as if I know who someone else is, what they should do and why.   

How do I balance this with the principle of truth-speaking with a loving attitude and intention?
here's my unfinished, in-process thinking: Jesus rarely told anyone what to do. He taught principles. Told stories with hidden treasures inside that could help someone change their way of thinking and seeing.

He also spoke truth to the controlling religious leaders of his time. he wasn't afraid to say, "No. That's not what love looks like" or "You put burdens on the shoulders of the people and don't do a thing to help them."

Realize that "managing me" means I speak for myself, not for others. When I speak only for myself, I don't "get" to be "right." I only get to take responsibility for myself. Darn! I want to be "right."  (Whining ensues...I should get to be right because I think alot. So much more than those "other" people. Or because I'm all about justice. Or because....")

Because I'm not Jesus - I'm only me...sometimes volatile and reactive....sometimes thoughtful..sometimes not....do I ever really speak "truth"?  Do I even know it?

Is it enough for me to do my best with the whole "light shining" thing and trust that Truth will be visible if I'm living it?

How can I learn to love and speak truth? To manage me and love others. To give up being right and still desire my life and words to reflect Truth?

Thinking a lot wears me out. I need lunch. Possibly a doughnut.

"I love you, but just stop talking"

today I stopped at Trader Joe's after church. Groceries after the YWAM retreat last week. Lugging them into the YWAM base where I live, I see Karin across the street. She comes to Nail Day often. We always talk and pray and laugh. She has lived with alcoholism and drug addiction for ??? years. But, recently, she's been sober. it took weeks and weeks for her to emerge from the fog.  Each week, more of her real self emerged.  The angry, defensive, fearful street person began to soften. An artist was hiding in there. A storyteller - sometimes the stories were hair-raisers, but she told them with such passion.... A few weeks ago she was wearing the coolest ensemble.  A little hippie, a little ethnic coolness.  I loved it.   Today, she was across the street. High. Drunk. Her possessions strewn across the sidewalk. She's somehow lost any suitcase or bag or container.  She fumbled about, making piles of clothes....a bag of chips. A sweatshirt. Some Clorox wipes.  The detritus of life on the streets.  Were these her earthly possessions?

At the door of the base, LB, my favorite, much beloved crack dealer, said, "She's an alcoholic. She's at it again."  I nodded. She was right you know.  But, I headed across the street. Asked Karin if I could bring her some tote bags to put her stuff in.  She held on to me with a surprisingly strong grip. "Pray, mama."  We prayed.  I've been meditating on the Truth that God is bigger. Bigger than the Tenderloin. Bigger than addiction. Bigger than strip clubs or prostitution or poverty. Bigger than mental illness or violence.  HE is bigger and I trust HIM to save us.   I started to declare these things, over and over.  Prayed in tongues for awhile, when the hurt in my heart got really burning hot.  Then, went back to declaring that OUR GOD IS BIGGER.  

Later, I asked where she was sleeping tonight. She pointed to the sidewalk.  I mentioned a women's shelter. She began a convoluted story....because of disease and inability to clean sinks after each use, she said they ask women to spit their toothpaste into the toilet. She could not accept this indignity. She refused to "be treated like that....like I should put my face near a disgusting toilet."   

Now, I knew the shelter's motivation was sanitary - or Karin had misunderstood....but i kept my peace.  She explained "That's why I don't want to be near anybody. I want everybody to leave me alone."

Then, like I had no more sense than a muggle, I asked if she wanted me to call the Homeless Outreach Team.  I was thinking blankets maybe...or a shelter bed if she could endure it.    She exploded. "Aren't you listening? Doesn't anyone listen? I SAID I don't want to be near anybody."  She began to pull her hair.  Distraught.  I apologized.  "Just stop Don't talk, mama."  Then, her eyes cleared for a moment. "I love you, but just don't talk."  I nodded.  Sorry that I had upset her.   She nodded.  I walked away.

Perhaps she'll come to nail day tomorrow.  I'm going to keep an eye out for her...maybe take her hot coffee in the morning if she's there.  Look out for her in the afternoon as Nail Day approaches.

Pray for Karin. For this lovely, fashionista, artist and storyteller.  for her desire to be sober and the literal, not symbolic demons that block her at every turn.  I bless her for being gracious when I spoke out of turn.  When i didn't LISTEN.  for loving me and being honest enough to tell me to stop talking.

When I see her next, she will love and welcome me with open arms.  She will forgive me for talking too much and not listening when she said she couldn't stand to be near anyone in a shelter.  And, she will apologize - probably many times - for being high and yelling.  And we will hold each other.....I will say - maybe silently, maybe not - that our God is bigger than addiction, Bigger than relapse. Bigger than panic attacks and fear and rage.  Bigger than me talking when i should have just listened. 

Our God is bigger. What we see with our eyes in temporal.  What God speaks is ETERNAL. 

Hoping today. Love will win.