Last Tuesday (while driving to UCO- a Christian prayer group at the University of Michigan campus), I learned that the woman I wrote about in "You don't have to read this" froze to death during the night of Friday, January 21. I was in shock and horror when I heard this, yet I didn't scream or cry even though everything inside of me wanted to. Ed said that she suffered from paranoia. The Franciscan Friars had tried to get her in a shelter or apartment, but she would always leave. Ed took comfort in the fact that she was no longer suffering. It gives a whole new meaning of what heaven will be like and what the meaning of Revelation 21. 4, "He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, (for) the older order has passed away."
But we can mourn now and we should. I work with a lot of men, so I struggle sometimes with the concept of crying and mourning because I'm not really in an environment where I can break down and sob. Well, I could, but it's not the same as living in a household of women like I did last year. At the same time, there is a need to still mourn. Jesus wept. It's the shortest and sometimes I think the most powerful verse in the Bible. God mourns over His hurting people. A Father weeps over His children.
Fr. Tod, the parish priest of St. Aloysius Church- the church Linda usually stayed in front of, wrote this in the bulletin:
"Earlier this week as I drove by 37 State street, I noticed a small group of people gathered by the empty doorway where Brother Al discovered Linda. They seemed to be praying and I knwe it was for this poor woman and all who die of the terrible cold.
We could focus on the poverty that drives these people onto the streets, the desperation of their lives that leaves them so alone in the world. We could move onto rail against 'the system; and how it seems to be so uncaring and to always look for ways to withhold precious resources from those most in need. As true as all these arguments are and as much as we need to address the issues, we would, I suspect be avoiding the heart of the matter.
Both women are human persons. They are our sisters. They are gone now and we are bereft, grieving their passing. We feel the emptiness, the helplessness and perhaps even the futility in all our efforts to be there for them. We somehow need to give voice to our deep, aching pain. We need to remember both women in our prayer and in our corporation lives. They are a part of us and something of each of us has died with them. In our poverty we bring all of this to God and cry out, 'may the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace!'"
Fr. Tod put into words so much what I was thinking and feeling. It was very comforting to see a man who is shepherding God's people give them hope and comfort. God didn't will for these women to suffer and die, but he did allow it. He also is able to and will bring good out of this situation. There is already a proposal and letter being written to the city to provide space within city buildings to be used on bitterly cold nights. I don't know what is going to come of it, but people are starting to recognize and act upon this desperate need. And for others of us, we just continue to weep, cry out injustice, love those around us, and hope in the saving power of our sovereign King. Come Lord Jesus. Come quickly. We eagerly wait for that day when there will be no more weeping or mourning, and we will be able to rejoice in your presence.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
You don't have to read this
I am giving you fair warning: YOU DON'T HAVE TO READ THIS... but if you do, know that you can't unread it. Today was real... yet again. It was painful, and I saw things that I didn't want to see. I actually turned away from it, but after talking to a good friend back in Minnesota he helped me to understand what I did and what I am doing. He was actually the one who told me I needed to write about this because people need to know. People need to know the reality of the country in which they live in.
This morning was kind of rough for me. I was in desperate need of some time with God, but like usual I just didn't have the time that I needed or maybe that I wasn't willing to make. I knew God was trying to reach deep within me, but I wasn't quite ready for it. Off to church I went knowing that it would find me there, and there it did find me. (I don't even want to keep writing because my heart aches terribly just thinking about it.) As our car drove up to St. Al's in downtown Detroit, I turned to see a white bare bum and thighs of a woman between two cars urinating. She must of been in her late 50's maybe early 60's. She was barely squatting, but it was quite evident that she was easing herself. I turned away quickly half chuckling that we were trying to get into this small parking space and that I had just seen this woman going to the bathroom in street wondering but not dare asking if the guy next to me saw it too. "Only in Detroit," I said to myself trying to brush it off.
When we got out of the car, our Detroit friend, E, walked over to see if the woman was ok now that she was back in her little cubby while the other guy was just kind of standing to see what the situation was. I waited for a second and then just went inside. I couldn't deal with it. I just needed some time to pray. Homeless people are outside the church all the time in this cubby. After putting down my stuff, I went straight to the front of the church to pray near the tabernacle. Tears started streaming down as I prayed. I just didn't want to deal with that pain and suffering of the city at that moment, yet it was hitting me all at once. I just felt the Lord's grief as I grieved over this woman and so many like her. I cried out to God apologizing for my own inadequacy, yet acknowledging Him as Lord over all.
After gathering myself together, I sat next to E and asked her about the woman. E told me that she had no shoes. She had no shoes on. She had no shoes. It was 7 degrees outside last night. It is snowy and slushy. Her socks must have been sopping. It must have been so cold and painful standing on that marble without any shoes. E invited her inside, but the woman said that she needed some air. E said that she understood. E said that her shoes were too small, but I knew mine weren't. I thought about going out to be with the woman, but I knew that I needed to be at Mass. I just prayed for her and kept offering her up. In my brokenness sorrow, I was able to connect deeply to the Mass finding a great peace and comfort. I realized that it wouldn't be much help to give her my shoes because she needed new socks. I decided that after Mass I would go out to talk to her, drive home, and bring back a pair of boots and thick socks. When I headed out after Mass, I saw two cop cars, an ambulance, and a Franciscan Friar. I knew that she was in good hands, and the brother would make sure she was taken care of. God is good and He finds ways to care for all of His children.
There are so many situations in Detroit that take me aback and cause me to wonder which country I am in... Sierra Leone or America? The poorest country in the world or the richest country in the world? Can you imagine getting to the point in which you just pee in the street? Or walking with no shoes? And how many shoes do I have in my closet? Or in your closet? Since coming to Detroit, I have been reading a lot of the Book of Isaiah. The prophets often cry out about the injustice of our world and of God's people. In Isaiah 58 it says, "This, rather, is the fasting I wish: releasing those bound unjustly, untying the thongs of the yoke; Setting free the oppressed, breaking every yoke..." Lord, I cry "INJUSTICE!" A woman was walking in the cold and snow with no shoes. She was urinating in the streets. Where is her dignity? Her dignity is in being a daughter of God, but does she even know this? Let us be the voice that cries "INJUSTICE" in our world and be the hands and feet in which the Lord uses to bind the brokenhearted and love the unlovables. I might have been wrong today not going over there to help her, but I am in need of a Savior not a savior myself. I have come to realize that I need to be filled with the Lord, and unless it is His strength and love, I am useless. May I have the humility and strength to keep crawling back to the Lord so that He may love me in order that I may love others sharing the love of Christ.
This morning was kind of rough for me. I was in desperate need of some time with God, but like usual I just didn't have the time that I needed or maybe that I wasn't willing to make. I knew God was trying to reach deep within me, but I wasn't quite ready for it. Off to church I went knowing that it would find me there, and there it did find me. (I don't even want to keep writing because my heart aches terribly just thinking about it.) As our car drove up to St. Al's in downtown Detroit, I turned to see a white bare bum and thighs of a woman between two cars urinating. She must of been in her late 50's maybe early 60's. She was barely squatting, but it was quite evident that she was easing herself. I turned away quickly half chuckling that we were trying to get into this small parking space and that I had just seen this woman going to the bathroom in street wondering but not dare asking if the guy next to me saw it too. "Only in Detroit," I said to myself trying to brush it off.
When we got out of the car, our Detroit friend, E, walked over to see if the woman was ok now that she was back in her little cubby while the other guy was just kind of standing to see what the situation was. I waited for a second and then just went inside. I couldn't deal with it. I just needed some time to pray. Homeless people are outside the church all the time in this cubby. After putting down my stuff, I went straight to the front of the church to pray near the tabernacle. Tears started streaming down as I prayed. I just didn't want to deal with that pain and suffering of the city at that moment, yet it was hitting me all at once. I just felt the Lord's grief as I grieved over this woman and so many like her. I cried out to God apologizing for my own inadequacy, yet acknowledging Him as Lord over all.
After gathering myself together, I sat next to E and asked her about the woman. E told me that she had no shoes. She had no shoes on. She had no shoes. It was 7 degrees outside last night. It is snowy and slushy. Her socks must have been sopping. It must have been so cold and painful standing on that marble without any shoes. E invited her inside, but the woman said that she needed some air. E said that she understood. E said that her shoes were too small, but I knew mine weren't. I thought about going out to be with the woman, but I knew that I needed to be at Mass. I just prayed for her and kept offering her up. In my brokenness sorrow, I was able to connect deeply to the Mass finding a great peace and comfort. I realized that it wouldn't be much help to give her my shoes because she needed new socks. I decided that after Mass I would go out to talk to her, drive home, and bring back a pair of boots and thick socks. When I headed out after Mass, I saw two cop cars, an ambulance, and a Franciscan Friar. I knew that she was in good hands, and the brother would make sure she was taken care of. God is good and He finds ways to care for all of His children.
There are so many situations in Detroit that take me aback and cause me to wonder which country I am in... Sierra Leone or America? The poorest country in the world or the richest country in the world? Can you imagine getting to the point in which you just pee in the street? Or walking with no shoes? And how many shoes do I have in my closet? Or in your closet? Since coming to Detroit, I have been reading a lot of the Book of Isaiah. The prophets often cry out about the injustice of our world and of God's people. In Isaiah 58 it says, "This, rather, is the fasting I wish: releasing those bound unjustly, untying the thongs of the yoke; Setting free the oppressed, breaking every yoke..." Lord, I cry "INJUSTICE!" A woman was walking in the cold and snow with no shoes. She was urinating in the streets. Where is her dignity? Her dignity is in being a daughter of God, but does she even know this? Let us be the voice that cries "INJUSTICE" in our world and be the hands and feet in which the Lord uses to bind the brokenhearted and love the unlovables. I might have been wrong today not going over there to help her, but I am in need of a Savior not a savior myself. I have come to realize that I need to be filled with the Lord, and unless it is His strength and love, I am useless. May I have the humility and strength to keep crawling back to the Lord so that He may love me in order that I may love others sharing the love of Christ.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Brutal Honesty
I don't know if you have ever spent an extended time period with an African American family, but something you will quickly realize is that usually they are all brutally honest with one another, with you, with the guy walking down the street. It is just part of their culture and personhood to be extremely honest.
Last week, a couple of my friends were visiting from St. Paul, and they attended an AA meeting with me at the Capuchin Soup Kitchen. One of the things that stuck out to them was how honest everyone was. The people at the meeting told it as it was. They weren't trying to hide anything because there was no reason to do so. There were a few women who were being extremely honest about using, being in jail that week, and a few other situations going on in their life. Because of their honesty, another man was able to be honest about catching his girl with another man, and how he really wanted to use but didn't. Men, especially African American men, don't like to be honest about those sorts of things, yet because of other people's honesty he was able to be honest. It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "The Truth will set you free." Honesty is a huge part of the 12 Steps AA program. They say that if you have the capacity of being honest with yourself this program can work for you, but only if you are honest with yourself and others.
For my friends who were visiting, this honesty came as a bit of a shock. They were reflecting on their lives back home and how few people were actually honest with each other. In the white, especially suburban, culture (this doesn't mean that you have to be white it is just the ethnicity that is most associated with this culture) we often like to wear masks to hide from the reality of life. We don't like to show people what is actually going on in our lives, so we hide behind the mask of "this is the me I want to show you." But what if that isn't the actual you? (Oh baby, I could go on about that, but I am going to stick with honesty for a bit.) We like to smooth things over and avoid confrontation. It often feels like we are walking on glass in order to not ruffle any feathers. But that's craziness! We would rather choose walking on glass... GLASS... in order to not ruffle any feathers! Feathers or glass?!
Yesterday, Andy and I went to visit a family that has been working with Youth Works for the past few years. They are an incredible family that is close to both of our hearts. It is always a huge blessing to go over to their house to hang out and talk trash... and that's often what we do. It is so good to be their sitting in their living room talking about everything under the sun, yet it can often be a little awkward. Everything is talked about, and I mean everything! This morning, I was reflecting on why I thought it was awkward, and I realized that it was too honest for me. I am not used to the brutal honesty that dominates our conversations. In another one of my blogs that I am working on, I talk more about the raw reality of Detroit, and honesty is another part of this raw reality in which I live in. The honesty stretches me, but it is such a blessing. It is an honor for me to sit in their living room like family talking about anything that comes to mind. Even though there are things said that make me feel a little awkward like talking about strip clubs, if I have ADHD, what smells in the house, or which guy is the cutest, there is also the conversations where I feel so privileged to be sitting in the living room of these teachers. Teachers who open their lives up to me in order to share what's really going on. I see the hand of God at work right before my eyes.
In our work in Detroit, we see very little of the fruit of our labors, but with this family, God just lavishes me with blessings. They are so grateful for what Youth Works provides to not only their family, but to the city. Together we are able to share how our lives have been changed by the work in which God is doing in through Youth Works. And I see it. I see how Andy and I have been changed, and I get the pleasure of seeing how this family is being changed.
This brutal honesty isn't really as brutal as I once thought. The things I often see as awkward aren't as awkward as I thought if I put them into context. I am actually grateful that they feel comfortable enough to share these things with me. The honesty can sometimes be painful, but it's real. There is a rawness to it that testifies to our true personhood- to our being. It gets to the core of who we are- A beautiful mess in need of a Savior.
Last week, a couple of my friends were visiting from St. Paul, and they attended an AA meeting with me at the Capuchin Soup Kitchen. One of the things that stuck out to them was how honest everyone was. The people at the meeting told it as it was. They weren't trying to hide anything because there was no reason to do so. There were a few women who were being extremely honest about using, being in jail that week, and a few other situations going on in their life. Because of their honesty, another man was able to be honest about catching his girl with another man, and how he really wanted to use but didn't. Men, especially African American men, don't like to be honest about those sorts of things, yet because of other people's honesty he was able to be honest. It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "The Truth will set you free." Honesty is a huge part of the 12 Steps AA program. They say that if you have the capacity of being honest with yourself this program can work for you, but only if you are honest with yourself and others.
For my friends who were visiting, this honesty came as a bit of a shock. They were reflecting on their lives back home and how few people were actually honest with each other. In the white, especially suburban, culture (this doesn't mean that you have to be white it is just the ethnicity that is most associated with this culture) we often like to wear masks to hide from the reality of life. We don't like to show people what is actually going on in our lives, so we hide behind the mask of "this is the me I want to show you." But what if that isn't the actual you? (Oh baby, I could go on about that, but I am going to stick with honesty for a bit.) We like to smooth things over and avoid confrontation. It often feels like we are walking on glass in order to not ruffle any feathers. But that's craziness! We would rather choose walking on glass... GLASS... in order to not ruffle any feathers! Feathers or glass?!
Yesterday, Andy and I went to visit a family that has been working with Youth Works for the past few years. They are an incredible family that is close to both of our hearts. It is always a huge blessing to go over to their house to hang out and talk trash... and that's often what we do. It is so good to be their sitting in their living room talking about everything under the sun, yet it can often be a little awkward. Everything is talked about, and I mean everything! This morning, I was reflecting on why I thought it was awkward, and I realized that it was too honest for me. I am not used to the brutal honesty that dominates our conversations. In another one of my blogs that I am working on, I talk more about the raw reality of Detroit, and honesty is another part of this raw reality in which I live in. The honesty stretches me, but it is such a blessing. It is an honor for me to sit in their living room like family talking about anything that comes to mind. Even though there are things said that make me feel a little awkward like talking about strip clubs, if I have ADHD, what smells in the house, or which guy is the cutest, there is also the conversations where I feel so privileged to be sitting in the living room of these teachers. Teachers who open their lives up to me in order to share what's really going on. I see the hand of God at work right before my eyes.
In our work in Detroit, we see very little of the fruit of our labors, but with this family, God just lavishes me with blessings. They are so grateful for what Youth Works provides to not only their family, but to the city. Together we are able to share how our lives have been changed by the work in which God is doing in through Youth Works. And I see it. I see how Andy and I have been changed, and I get the pleasure of seeing how this family is being changed.
This brutal honesty isn't really as brutal as I once thought. The things I often see as awkward aren't as awkward as I thought if I put them into context. I am actually grateful that they feel comfortable enough to share these things with me. The honesty can sometimes be painful, but it's real. There is a rawness to it that testifies to our true personhood- to our being. It gets to the core of who we are- A beautiful mess in need of a Savior.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Falling in Love...again
Today, I was driving down Second Street, and I fell in love again. I was struck by the people walking on the streets bustling about here and there. I was struck by the abandon buildings on one side of the street and the beautiful murals and graffiti on the other side of the street. I drove down Willis past Avalon International Bakery that was packed like usual to find a parking place. I got out of my car, looked around, and was struck by the love I have for this city. This city that is so broken, bruised, hurt, raw, and real.
Everything in this city is so real that is almost hurts... it does hurt. In C.S. Lewis' book, The Great Divorce, a man takes a bus that leads to heaven. Everything is so REAL there that the blades of grass hurt his feet. Eventually though, he is able to walk further and further into heaven that his feet become stronger and he like busts out of his old self (I think that's how it goes. It has been a while since I have read the book. I know the blades of grass hurt his feet though). Could you imagine that? Could you imagine having blades of grass hurt your feet... because it is so real?
I don't think we live in a world of reality anymore. I don't think we even know what is real and what is imaginary anymore. We spend so much time creating our own worlds that we cannot even see the reality of the world in which we live in. There is a world out there that is real- it is beautiful, majestic, awesome, broken, frail, wet, dry, hard, soft, filled with tears, joys, dreams, people, plants, buildings, animals, air, grass, roses, rocks. At the Detroit Institute of Art there is a piece of art which is really hard to understand. It's just massive rocks simply placed upon the floor. The artist challenges the viewers to take a moment to notice the shape, color, structure, simplicity, massiveness, and beauty of these rocks. Imagine if we did the same thing to people! What if we took time to listen to the beauty of the foreign language of those sitting next to us in the coffee shop. The eyes, hands, facial features of those we pass on the street, in the market, at work, the list can go on. What if we look the homeless person we walk by right in the eye that they know they are loved and cared about... that someone gives a damn about them, yet do we?
Why are we so obsessed with reality television? What is real about reality television except that there are real person on the other side of the "idiot box"? (I remember learning in elementary school that idiot box is the name for televisions in Australia.) Are we so stuck on reality television that we can no longer live in the reality of the world around us?
I don't know what Detroit is doing to me. It's changing me. I feel like I have been laid bare here. By being stripped down to my bare essentials, I am coming to understand what it means to be human. To be a live. To just be.
Everything in this city is so real that is almost hurts... it does hurt. In C.S. Lewis' book, The Great Divorce, a man takes a bus that leads to heaven. Everything is so REAL there that the blades of grass hurt his feet. Eventually though, he is able to walk further and further into heaven that his feet become stronger and he like busts out of his old self (I think that's how it goes. It has been a while since I have read the book. I know the blades of grass hurt his feet though). Could you imagine that? Could you imagine having blades of grass hurt your feet... because it is so real?
I don't think we live in a world of reality anymore. I don't think we even know what is real and what is imaginary anymore. We spend so much time creating our own worlds that we cannot even see the reality of the world in which we live in. There is a world out there that is real- it is beautiful, majestic, awesome, broken, frail, wet, dry, hard, soft, filled with tears, joys, dreams, people, plants, buildings, animals, air, grass, roses, rocks. At the Detroit Institute of Art there is a piece of art which is really hard to understand. It's just massive rocks simply placed upon the floor. The artist challenges the viewers to take a moment to notice the shape, color, structure, simplicity, massiveness, and beauty of these rocks. Imagine if we did the same thing to people! What if we took time to listen to the beauty of the foreign language of those sitting next to us in the coffee shop. The eyes, hands, facial features of those we pass on the street, in the market, at work, the list can go on. What if we look the homeless person we walk by right in the eye that they know they are loved and cared about... that someone gives a damn about them, yet do we?
Why are we so obsessed with reality television? What is real about reality television except that there are real person on the other side of the "idiot box"? (I remember learning in elementary school that idiot box is the name for televisions in Australia.) Are we so stuck on reality television that we can no longer live in the reality of the world around us?
I don't know what Detroit is doing to me. It's changing me. I feel like I have been laid bare here. By being stripped down to my bare essentials, I am coming to understand what it means to be human. To be a live. To just be.
Testimony as a Detroit Gappper
I was recently asked to write my testimony as a woman gapper in Detroit for a newsletter. This is my story (at least some of it):
In January of 2010, I clearly remember my pastoral leader asking me if I had considered serving with Detroit Summer Outreach. She was shocked that no one had ever talked to me about doing it since the Lord was doing a lot in my heart in the areas of serving, poverty, inter-city work, ecumenism, and community – everything encompassing the work in Detroit. After dragging my feet for a bit, I applied and was accepted into the summer program. I never would have imagined that saying "yes" to one invitation by the Lord would open the door to a life changing invitation that I received through an e-mail a week after being accepted into DSO. Josh Rock asked me to prayerfully consider doing a Standing in the Gap year in Detroit that following year. I e-mailed Josh back saying that it was crazy to think about leaving school when I had one year left, leaving Saint Paul's Outreach which I was actively involved in, to fundraise for a year of service when I had school loans, to move to a city that I knew nothing about, and to approach my parents back in Iowa about doing a program that I barely knew anything about. In my e-mail I said, "Doing a Gap year is crazy, but at the same time it makes a lot of sense to me because my heart desires most of the things that you are doing in Detroit." After prayer and many long conversations, I said "yes" to the invitation to come and see the Lord's work in Detroit.
That is what my Gap year is about. Opening my eyes to the wonder of God's work here in Detroit and stripping me down to my essential being as a daughter of God. Everything in Detroit is raw and real, and I experience that everyday. Detroit is bruised, broken, oppressed, and impoverished, yet it is so close to God's heart. I came into my year of service with a whole bunch of ideas about leading the youth group, our after-school program, and working with the poor. The Lord quickly taught me that this is His work and all outside ideas, game plans, and prides need to be left at the door. I lead the high school girls’ youth group which has tripled in size this year from one girl to three. I tried to do the "normal" youth group thing by leading worship, having Bible studies, giving talks, and doing girly things, but it didn't work. Finally, I surrendered, gave up all my preconceived notions, and allowed God to lead. It was messy, unconventional, and it didn't look like we were doing much – especially not much dealing with Christianity. Fortunately, Jesus leads our youth group. Last week, two of the younger girls were led to Christ, and I can't wait to see what God is going to do next week!
Being the only woman Gapper in Detroit has its challenges, but so does being a Christian. I have never felt so blessed in my entire life as I have here in Detroit. I get to walk on holy ground every single day. God's presence here is consuming. You can see Christ's love for His people. I can't explain it, but I experience it. I experience it at the Capuchin soup kitchen when I give Andre, a former gang leader, drug addict, and ex-con, a hug every Friday morning. I experience it while holding Esther's hands looking her in the eyes telling her of God's love even though she believes that her heart is too cold to be loved. I experience it sitting in the Wilson's living room shooting the breeze and sharing life. I experience it as a child from our after-school program, Bezalel Project, runs towards me for a hug, or while driving through the projects picking up or dropping off kids. I experience it through our tight-knit community here in Detroit that functions like a family. I experience God's love for His beloved children here in Detroit, and it's a privilege to have so many opportunities to love those in need of Him.
This Christmas, I received an ornament that says "Hope Shines Bright." A year ago, I would have never imagined that one simple invitation would change my life. The Lord invited me into the midst of His work, and I am truly privileged to say that "the hope of Christ truly shines bright in the city of Detroit."
In January of 2010, I clearly remember my pastoral leader asking me if I had considered serving with Detroit Summer Outreach. She was shocked that no one had ever talked to me about doing it since the Lord was doing a lot in my heart in the areas of serving, poverty, inter-city work, ecumenism, and community – everything encompassing the work in Detroit. After dragging my feet for a bit, I applied and was accepted into the summer program. I never would have imagined that saying "yes" to one invitation by the Lord would open the door to a life changing invitation that I received through an e-mail a week after being accepted into DSO. Josh Rock asked me to prayerfully consider doing a Standing in the Gap year in Detroit that following year. I e-mailed Josh back saying that it was crazy to think about leaving school when I had one year left, leaving Saint Paul's Outreach which I was actively involved in, to fundraise for a year of service when I had school loans, to move to a city that I knew nothing about, and to approach my parents back in Iowa about doing a program that I barely knew anything about. In my e-mail I said, "Doing a Gap year is crazy, but at the same time it makes a lot of sense to me because my heart desires most of the things that you are doing in Detroit." After prayer and many long conversations, I said "yes" to the invitation to come and see the Lord's work in Detroit.
That is what my Gap year is about. Opening my eyes to the wonder of God's work here in Detroit and stripping me down to my essential being as a daughter of God. Everything in Detroit is raw and real, and I experience that everyday. Detroit is bruised, broken, oppressed, and impoverished, yet it is so close to God's heart. I came into my year of service with a whole bunch of ideas about leading the youth group, our after-school program, and working with the poor. The Lord quickly taught me that this is His work and all outside ideas, game plans, and prides need to be left at the door. I lead the high school girls’ youth group which has tripled in size this year from one girl to three. I tried to do the "normal" youth group thing by leading worship, having Bible studies, giving talks, and doing girly things, but it didn't work. Finally, I surrendered, gave up all my preconceived notions, and allowed God to lead. It was messy, unconventional, and it didn't look like we were doing much – especially not much dealing with Christianity. Fortunately, Jesus leads our youth group. Last week, two of the younger girls were led to Christ, and I can't wait to see what God is going to do next week!
Being the only woman Gapper in Detroit has its challenges, but so does being a Christian. I have never felt so blessed in my entire life as I have here in Detroit. I get to walk on holy ground every single day. God's presence here is consuming. You can see Christ's love for His people. I can't explain it, but I experience it. I experience it at the Capuchin soup kitchen when I give Andre, a former gang leader, drug addict, and ex-con, a hug every Friday morning. I experience it while holding Esther's hands looking her in the eyes telling her of God's love even though she believes that her heart is too cold to be loved. I experience it sitting in the Wilson's living room shooting the breeze and sharing life. I experience it as a child from our after-school program, Bezalel Project, runs towards me for a hug, or while driving through the projects picking up or dropping off kids. I experience it through our tight-knit community here in Detroit that functions like a family. I experience God's love for His beloved children here in Detroit, and it's a privilege to have so many opportunities to love those in need of Him.
This Christmas, I received an ornament that says "Hope Shines Bright." A year ago, I would have never imagined that one simple invitation would change my life. The Lord invited me into the midst of His work, and I am truly privileged to say that "the hope of Christ truly shines bright in the city of Detroit."
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