Justice or Mercy?

Last night we got a group of mainly high school kids, but also upper elementary kids and adults, to sleep outside in order to raise awareness of homelessness and also as a fundraiser for an organization providing housing for families. This was our first year participating, and I decided to keep things low key, we watched a video and did a couple activities to try and better understand what things can lead to a person being homeless as well as what it is actually like to be homeless. Of course, the biggest part of the experience was sleeping outside in the cold and on the hard ground and gaining a better understanding of what it is like to have to do that night after night, day after day. I also was nice and left a part of the building open so people could use a real bathroom if they needed it.

We had about 20 people participate for some or all of it. 4 people only stayed for part of the time, the rest spent the night. While the majority of the people did what you were supposed to do- sleep outside- 4 kids decided to sit inside the building and not sleep. They waited until everyone had gone to bed before moving inside, and at 4:30 when I got up and saw them I was too out of it to argue. So 4 kids spent the night warm and awake. Not really the point of the exercise, but hopefully they got something from it anyway.

In the morning we had breakfast and talked a bit about the experience. I asked everyone if spending the night like that had changed how they would treat homeless people they encountered. One of the boys said “no, they made the choice to be homeless they can help themselves”. I was shocked, first of all, why would you choose to spend the night outside like that if you didn’t think homeless people deserve assistance? But more than that, I couldn’t believe that after the stories we had heard to start the night and the activities we did throughout he honestly believed this. In response I tried to remind him of some of the stories we had heard- a woman and her husband with only high school diplomas ended up homeless two months after her husband lost his job and couldn’t find another one, they had two kids and didn’t do anything wrong really. We also saw how non-skilled labor jobs don’t pay enough to afford a home, or else you can barely afford someplace to live, but if you get sick you’re going to have to choose between a doctor or your home. He didn’t budge and I didn’t want it to turn into an argument, so I let it go. But then I got to thinking about how I should have responded.

Regardless of why a person is homeless or struggling, we are called to help them. This might not mean giving them money, but it does mean that as Christians we are expected to reach out to them. I should happily give my extra coat, or buy a sandwich for the guy on the corner, or provide a ride for someone who needs it, regardless of what their choices have been that brought them to their place of need. We aren’t told to serve people because they deserve it, we are told to serve people to show them Christ’s love. And Christ’s love is above everything else an act of totally undeserved mercy and love. Why a person is living on the street or traveling from shelter to shelter doesn’t matter. The fact that they need something I can provide does. What can I do this week to help someone in need? What can you do?

Blinded

Sunday was World Hunger Sunday, and like I would imagine many churches did our sermon focused on that very subject. Before the service I was talking with our pastor’s wife and she was sharing with me a struggle she had from the day before. They had gone downtown and had noticed that on every corner and every place they went there were people begging. She said at first she was overwhelmed by the amount of need, but by the end of the day she wasn’t even noticing them anymore.  Our pastor shared about seeing all the need and being overwhelmed by it as well, although from the pulpit he didn’t share having gotten to the point of no longer noticing the beggers, so I don’t know if his experience was the same as hers.

This all happened during the day when I was sitting by a table with a tent set up trying to get donations, pledges actually, for our youth and other church members to spend Saturday night sleeping outside, getting a taste of what it means to be homeless, and hopefully raising some money and awareness at the same time. So Sunday morning I sat with a couple kids trying to raise awareness of what we’re doing, and hopefully get some people who didn’t want to sleep out with us to give us money. A lot of people stopped and talked with me about what we are doing and they seemed genuinely interested and thought it was a great idea. 12:45 P.M. Sunday I’m packing up the tent and looking at a list of pledges with exactly 0 names. After all our promotion, after all the conversations I had had we didn’t get a single person pledging financial support. And this after these people sat in church listening to a sermon about giving.

In preperation for our Saturday sleeping out I have been doing a lot of studying and researching about homelessness. I’m trying to make it personal. A little while ago someone commented that I should read “Under the Overpass” and so I picked up a copy of the book. It’s very easy to read, as it seems to be written for an audience as young as junior high possibly? Two guys volunarily experience homelessness in several different U.S. cities over the course of about 5 months. Some of the book didn’t resonate with me, but two things in particular did. First is what seems a pretty obvious thing, the journey they describe puts a human face to homelessness. It allows someone who has never experienced what it’s like to be homeless to better understand what it means to be homeless. I think I got a glimpse of this during mission trips I’ve been on too. I’m always amazed at what seems to make the biggest impact on people. The second thing that struck me was reading how various churches and/or so called Christians responded to these “homeless” guys. It was a slap in the face to read about how some of these churches and people treated homeless people, because I more often than not have responded similarly. It’s easy to ignore need and think to yourself that if you gave them money they’d just go buy drugs or alcohol (which may be true, but there are other things we can do instead that are at least as meaningful).

I can sit in church and write all the blogs I want about being the hands and feet of Christ, but if I don’t step out and start acting like it it’s all meaningless. I’m not sure what I think about our planned event to raise awareness. I think it’s great to become more aware of what homeless families and individuals are dealing with, but I think it’s far more important to go and show those people Christ’s love, even though we cannot possibly understand what they endure every day. And I don’t think this necessarily means giving them money. I think we can start simply by acknowledging that they are human beings. And hopefully from there I can become more willing and able to show them the love of God in a true and helpful way.

Honesty

A little over a week ago I was sitting on my couch reading my Bible trying to keep my mind from wandering all over the place when I decided to just quit. Instead I opened up my journal and wrote our a prayer to God pouring out my true feelings at that moment. Being completely honest for the first time in months with both myself and God. It was amazing what followed. For days after that I was talking to God, I was listening for God, and actually hearing him speak. Things were clicking like they hadn’t for a long time and it was wonderful.

I love what God is doing in my life right now. I love that he has taken my honesty and pushed me. I love that I am feeling exhilerated and terrified at the same time. That first day has lead to others, and on Saturday I started the day being blindsided by a realization of what I believe has been standing in the way of my relationship with God. And the rest of the day I spent time on and off working through this, taking this to God and wrestling with it. It was exhausting. But it was so refreshing. Sunday I woke up excited for the day and ready to see what God had in store for me.

Monday night I had small group. I’m not a big fan of my small group, but I was excited because we are currently studying “Walking with God” which is about listening to God, and that’s what I felt my entire week had been about. So I was looking forward to being able to share this amazing experience with the group. And then I didn’t.

Before leaving I had spent time asking God for courage, asking God to allow me to share what he had been doing in my life without sugar coating it, without putting on the cloak of the “good Christian”, and in a way that would honestly reflect what I had been experiencing. I was genuinely ready to go in there and while I wasn’t going to share all the details, I had no intention of hiding the reality of things either. But it didn’t happen.

Yes, I was scared, but it was more than that. I didn’t feel I had the opportunity. I didn’t feel that this group of people were the right people to share it with, and most of all I chickened out. I think. I’m not sure that’s really true. I think God was protecting me a little, because I’m not sure we as a group are in that place yet and if I had shared honestly it might have come back to bite me. And if I had left too much out it would have diminished the point of the entire week.

For now I’m waiting. I’m waiting to share this story of how wonderfully God is working in my life right now. I would love to share it today. I would love to sit down and tell you all about it. But I think I’m not ready yet. I think God is saying, “hold on, wait a minute, don’t go watering down what I’m doing, don’t go making this a lovey dovey story, wait until you can tell it all and tell it truthfully”. So for now I am waiting, because I know that I cannot tell it all yet. Right now I cannot be totally honest about what it is that God has done for me because I cannot be totally honest about why those things needed to be done.

You might be wondering why I even share this all with you if it is only to say, “I have something to say but I’m not going to say it”. To be honest, the reason is simple. It’s because I need the reminder. I need this to be here to remind me why I am not sharing about the things God is doing right now, becuase it would be so easy to tell you about how amazing God is and not be honest about how fallen I am. I am working on becoming the person who can be honest- with God, with myself, with those around me. And I think the first step to being honest is to admit that I am not being honest.

I hope soon I can share the amazingness of what God is doing in my life with people. Until then I want to be honest by saying I am not ready to be honest about it all yet. And this is a really long post to say that.

A Bonfire Community

I had a dream last night. My dream was a mix between a real memory and a fictional dream. I was sitting on the beach around a bonfire with a group of about 20 other people. The sun was setting over the lake and it was beautiful. Different people would pick up a guitar and start playing a song, or just start singing a song and others would join in. Some people were just talking. And everyone was connected by the overwhelming presence of God. This all actually happened, I just don’t remember the overwhelming presence of God being as powerful as it was in the dream, but I know he was present in the real time too.

It was with this group of people that I have known the truest sense of the word community. We were a group that had come together to serve God and we were a group that together had faced challenge upon challenge, and tragedies none of us had expected. It wasn’t a forced community, we were connected to each other through God. It sounds cheesy when I write it, but I don’t know how else to explain it. When we gathered together God was real and tangible not just a distant thought. We could have theological debates that were more spiritual than intellectual (which I think is rare). We could accept each other’s differences and struggles because we recognized our commonalities. We were a family.

I think this is what we (my generation and those younger than me) are most looking for today. A community that is real. A community where we don’t have to be someone or something we are not- a community where it’s okay to question the status quo, where it’s okay to question “what’s always been”. We aren’t necessarily looking for a community of people who are the same as us, but for a community where we can be ourselves without being judged for being different.

But we have also been raised in a culture of “instant” and so often we expect instant results. Instant community. The community in my dream came to be after we spent nearly 24 hours a day 7 days a week together over the course of two summers, about 6 months of near constant interaction. If we took the same amount of time to build community with the church with our current level of interaction (about 3 hours a week) it would take 6.5 years to reach the level of community we had sitting together on the beach that night. And that’s being generous. I think realistically it would require 10 years of facing challenges and tragedies together. As well as experiencing miracles and celebrations with one another. But we don’t stick around long enough to see this happen. Or we close off our lives to the people we are wanting community with, waiting for community to happen before we will be part of making a community.

I’m guilty of this too, but I think we all need to be more patient. We all need to be willing to step out a little bit more. We all need to make the people who we are seeking to be “church” with more of a priority. Whether these people are the people in our physical church building or the people we connect with through another way. Instant community doesn’t exist. Instant community cannot exist. Building relationships takes time and until we are willing to spend time building relationships and opening ourselves up we will never find the community we are seeking.

Trials

I was 16 and at a prime age to be greatly affected by little things (if you know any teenagers or remember your teenage days you know this is true). But the things that happened were not little. It started fairly small- a classmate of mine died. We had a couple classes together, talked when it related to school and that was about it. A month later another classmate/friend of mine was in a major car accident on Valentine’s Day. She was paralyzed from the chest down. Two months later a woman in my church, who happened to be a sort of mentor to me, committed suicide. In April I was at work when a guy I worked with followed me into the bathroom for less than honorable reasons. In June a woman whose children I baby sat and who cooked food for our youth group died after years of battling breast cancer- she was only in her 30’s. My church decided it was best to sweep things under the rug. We were not allowed to talk about the suicide at any church events. This included youth group. It was a taboo subject. Which for me then meant that since it played so directly into my struggles that I could not turn to my church for help with these things. So I wrote. A lot.

I didn’t know how to deal with the unexplainable things happening around me and to me. I didn’t know what happened to someone who commits suicide, and knowing mattered to me a lot. I didn’t know what I had done to make him follow me into the bathroom that day. I didn’t know how to deal with the fact that everyone at work looked at me like I was a traitor when he got fired. I didn’t know what role I had to play in the lives of the little girls who I took care of and loved who had just lost their mother. I didn’t know how to deal with her loss myself.

As I worked through these things alone I wrote a lot about death and escape. It seemed like escaping from it all was a good option. I truly don’t believe I was suicidal, but my mom found my journals and brought me to the doctor. He prescribed an anti-depressant. That was it. I won’t get into the fact that by doing that he was actually increasing the chance of me committing suicide, because in teenagers anti-depressants alone can actually have more of a negative impact than nothing. But that’s not the point. I went to a friend for help. I told her my mom was making me take anti-depressants and that I didn’t think I really needed them. She referred me to a counselor. My church family found out and offered their support, but by that point I felt like the church had failed me and while I loved the people I also needed someone else to talk to. Stacie was (and still is) amazing. She forced me to do what no one else was in a position to do, over coffee and not in a stuffy office.

Now I work in the church, and it is one of my goals that if a teenager, or anyone, in the church is struggling they feel the church is a place they can go for help. I feel like I got lucky, but I think a lot of people aren’t as lucky. The church doesn’t help them so they leave and never return. If I had been 5 years older I would have left and probably not returned for a while.

To this day Stacie is who I call when I need to talk. When I need someone who isn’t afraid to push me to see what I am choosing to ignore, who isn’t afraid to call it like it is, and who isn’t afraid to just listen when needed too. I wish I had someone like that who I could talk to face to face, but until that time comes, I am thankful for God’s providence. He brought a Christian woman into my life when the church failed to be what I needed.

I’m not sure the purpose of this post. But I’ll leave it as a shout out to God and to Stacie for listening to his call.

Singleness

For several reasons lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my relationship status. I’m single. I have been for quite a while now. And I’m quite content with this. In college I had a serious relationship with a guy 3 years older than me. Since then I’ve realized that I’m not ready for a relationship. I’m not where I want to be at spiritually. I’m not where I need to be at personally. And I have yet to meet anyone that makes me want to date. I like my independence. I need time alone and right now I spend a lot of time with other people I need to be able to spend a lot of my free time by myself. I don’t think I have it in me to commit to a relationship. And I feel like my relationship with God needs to grow alone some more before I’m ready to grow with another person. But I’m realizing more and more what this means for me in other areas.

As written about before I am realizing that people in the church that are in my age group are predominately married. The single young adults are largely college or just finished college. I don’t feel like I fit in that group at all. And I’m certainly not married. So where do I fit for Bible study?

And what about what I hope for in the future? I don’t want a relationship right now, but I do want one in the future, and a family. By not pursuing anything now am I jeopardizing that?

I don’t think these fears and concerns are justified. But sometimes I think that if I wait until I’m ready it will be too late and I’ll miss out on too much until then.

$4.40

Last night I packed up a bag with some food and a blanket and headed to Grant Park for a free movie in the park. I was looking forward to the time downtown but not the late night (I would get home after 11:30 which is late for me). The movie finished right about 10 and we headed back toward the trains. I had a little bit of time so I didn’t hurry to get my ticket and get on the train. About 7 minutes before the train was scheduled to depart I found my track and meandered to the train. After getting on I was surprised how full the train seemed so long before it would be leaving. I walked down the aisle looking for a seat as the doors closed and the train took off. It was only 10:35 and my train was supposed to leave at 10:40. I panicked a little as I turned to a man and asked where the train was going. As it turns out it was certainly not going where I needed to be. I sent Kerry a text saying “I’m on the wrong train!” and then found out where I could get off from the conductor and also learned that although it was not yet 11 PM the next train back to the station wouldn’t be until after 1 AM. I was a bit freaked out because I didn’t know what sort of area I was going to be abandoned in and had exactly $4.40, a bottle of powerade, my cell phone, my ipod, and a blanket. No credit card so no way of getting a taxi or some other transportation that costs more than the train to get back. Kerry kindly came and picked me up but I had a bit under 2 hours to sit and not really do anything. And I got to thinking about the people who are always in my situation. People who never have a credit card to rely on and have no choice but to depend on the kindness of others to help them get through the day. Usually I think we see these people after they have spent a long time living that way. I don’t know why, but that seems to be the case for me at least. I run into the people who have gotten past the initial panic and desperation. They have figured out how to make it even though it’s not any easier for them it has become the familiar.

But what about the woman whose husband beats her, who flees the comfort and familiarity of her home for the sake of her well being and that of her children? She is left in a strange place with little power to make it on her own. She goes to a shelter, she has to find a job, she has to care for her children, she might even beg. She’s probably not sure what to do next, not sure if she has enough money for new shoes for her kids and food on the table. She’s probably trying to figure out who she can turn to for help.

I wouldn’t choose to end up on the wrong train and get an undesired tour of a new metra station. I certainly won’t be going downtown with only cash any time in the near future. But for two hours I realized exactly how dependant I am on money and how discouraging it can be to not have enough for what you need. Thankfully I have a wonderful friend who drove 40 minutes to come pick me up at midnight, and another 40 minutes to bring me home.

Stuff

I’m getting ready to move in about two weeks and so that means packing and cleaning and getting organized and trying to figure out what there is I can get rid of so I have less that I have to move. The only problem with this is that I always feel bad getting rid of things. I don’t necessarily like them or feel a strong desire to keep them, but I look at the candle holder I never use and think about how my friend would feel if I just got rid of it. And then I figure I better keep it because I don’t want to hurt her feelings, even though she wouldn’t actually know the difference. Well, I’ve moved twice in the past 3 times in the past 2 1/2 years, this will be time 4. I’m sick of hauling all this stuff I don’t care about around with me. So I went on a massive purge. Stuffed animals given to me as gifts, little knick knacks and souvenirs that I have no use for anymore, books, clothes, movies. I went through and filled box after box after box (okay, just 3 boxes, but still). Then I took it immediately to the Salvation Army and left it with them. It felt good when I did it. The next day I wanted to take it all back. Not because I wanted it now, but because I was like, well what if I wish I hadn’t gotten rid of it in a month or year or whatever? What if I end up wanting to read that book again in a couple of years? My emotions wavered from happiness that I finally got rid of all this unwanted stuff to doubt about whether I should have gotten rid of all of it. It’s been about a week now and I feel good about it. I don’t care if I need it again in a month or a year- I can go to the library or rent the movie or buy a new t-shirt like the one I got rid of.

I realized during this whole process that I am too attached to stuff. My reasons may not be so bad- I mean not wanting to hurt someone’s feelings seems like a pretty good reason on the surface- but the reality was that no matter what my reasons I was letting stuff have too much importance in my life. Now, to find a way to get rid of more of this stuff…that might be a bit too much for now.

A Day Late

We take it all for granted, don’t we? Freedom to stroll down the street without fear. Freedom to say what we want when we want, positive and negative. Freedom to worship as we please and who we please. But at what cost?

Right now as I sit in my comfortable office someone in the West Bank is trying to decide if it’s worth the risk to go to the store. Someone else in Iraq is struggling to re-assemble their life after they lost home and loved ones. In Afghanistan they worry about whether the radical extremists will choose to target their neigborhood. But here I sit in my office looking out at a peaceful city.

Then I wonder about the cost to the American’s who are protecting my freedom. The  men and women who leave behind their families and friends and comfortable homes to spend months in another world, fighting for my freedoms, fighting for our “rights”. I’m not a particularly patriotic person, but these people are definitely deserving of our respect and gratitude.

But still I come back to the question at what cost do I have these luxuries and freedoms? Is the cost worth the prize? I think it is, but I also think we tend to go past what is actually necessary cost-wise. We don’t need to support Jewish terrorizing of Palestinians, we don’t need to invade countries because we think they might someday soon attack us. We don’t need to ask so many young men and women their families to sacrifice so much. I believe we can maintain our freedom without having to take away the freedom’s of others. But maybe I’m too idealistic.

Either way, thanks to all those who have served and are serving to protect our freedoms. I know the cost isn’t cheap and I will try to savor my freedom every day.

Swine Flu and Anthrax

During college I worked at an electronic repair shop. Well, during breaks and summer I worked there. One day I was working in the employee day care waiting for one of the boss’ to pick up her kids. Almost everyone had gone home already- it was just me and her 6 month old son and 4 year old daughter in the day care. There were a handful of other people around when things suddenly got interesting. She had opened a Christmas card and found white powder. She called whoever it is you call about suspicious powder and the police came and a bunch of other people to investigate what the substance was worrying it might be anthrax. Immediately the entire building was quarantined, what’s worse is we were told to stay where we were so that if we had not yet been affected by it we wouldn’t end up affected. Tents and tests were set up. I was stuck trying to keep a 4 year old and 6 month old happy for nearly 3 hours. The incident made it on the local news. It was after 8 P.M. by the time they determined it was not anthrax and we were allowed to go home.

I think the same thing is happening with the swine flu. I mean, we’re talking the flu, and a relatively mild case at that. I guess I just don’t get what the big deal is. There aren’t even 1000 people WORLDWIDE who have been confirmed as having this flu. Let’s not over react.