...from Under the Overpasses, one of my favorite blogs right now:
"I was married to fundamentalism until I cheated. I had an affair with God and everything changed."
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
The stuff that matters...
Okay, so I'm excited about the prospect of the Cubs winning a World Series Championship for the first time in 100 years. BUT. It's. only. baseball.
I posted the song in the previous post, then started catching up on some blogs that I read regularly. Two of them, "Under the Overpasses" and "Today at the Mission" are written by guys who serve broken, hurting, marginalized people at two different homeless shelters. They break my heart. They re-center me. They remind me that we (and that would be a big, fat "me included"), as the hands and feet of Jesus are, for the most part, doing a piss-poor job of being those hands and feet. Unless it's easy. Unless it's convenient. Unless we (gasp!) can keep ourselves clean while we serve (we don't really have to touch them, do we?) Unless it fits into our 2 hours of scheduled "charity" service on the third Saturday of each month.
Hugh Hollowell lives among "those" people in Raleigh, NC. He blogs here. You should read him. And, if you don't read him there, read him right here. I'm quoting this post in its entirety because it should be read. He speaks truth. And it's not "truth" just because I agree with it. I agree with it and, in the agreement, I acknowledge my own ugliness--my lack of mercy, my failure to feed the hungry, my refusal to love wholeheartedly because that demands more than I'm sometimes willing to give. I digress. Just read it.
"The Death of Evelyn and the Failure of the Church"
A heavy girl, perhaps 250 pounds, Evelyn’s greasy, stringy hair only served to accentuate her poor skin. Her weight made her shuffle rather than walk and her head was always bowed, seeking not to offend, avoiding eye contact. At 23, most people her age are very conscious of their appearance, but Evelyn’s wardrobe consisted of thrift store finds and cast offs, leaning heavily toward stretch pants and sweatshirts that advertised events she had never seen and places she would never visit.
It was my second month in Raleigh. I was volunteering with a group that fed the homeless in the park on Sunday when I met her for the first time. She shuffled through the line, mumbling thanks for the watery mashed potatoes and chili-mac, eyes on the ground. Several times I tried to engage her, but between my maleness and her demons, it just was not happening. Like a dog that had been struck once too often, she flinched at contact, muttering secrets only she knew to people only she saw.
When there was an open bed, Evelyn would stay at the woman’s shelter, but more often then not she had to make other arrangements. On cold nights, she would trade sexual favors in exchange for a warm bed. To pick up spending money, she would give men oral sex for $5. Because of her weight and mental issues, often the promise of a warm bed was revoked, or the money not paid after the oral sex had been given. Several people later told me Evelyn was often sexually assaulted and raped, unable to resist her attackers.
The last time I saw her was on a Thursday in early November. I remember it was inordinately cold that day, with a sharp, piercing wind.. Evelyn shuffled down the sidewalk, huddled down into her jacket, oblivious to my wave, ignoring me when I called.
That night Evelyn made it into the women’s shelter. In here she could sleep, secure in the knowledge she was safe. In the night Evelyn died of complications from sleep apnea. At age 23, she was another statistic of life, and death, on the streets.
* * * *
I told Evelyn’s story in a church once, and when I was finished they prayed fervent prayers that Evelyn would be at peace in the loving arms of Jesus. They prayed that those who would injure and molest women like Evelyn would be caught and punished. They prayed for God’s kingdom to come and for shalom to rest on our city.
At the end of the talk, a lady came up to me, obviously moved by my story and asked me the question I dread most: “How could God have allowed this to happen to Evelyn? Was this all part of God’s plan?”
If you spend much time working in the inner-city, you try not to ask yourself those kind of questions–not because you don’t know what the answer is, but because you do. Because if you think about it too much you get mad and because if you tell people the answer, you will not be invited back.
What I wanted to tell that lady, but did not, was God did have a plan to take care of Evelyn; God’s plan was us. God’s plan was to put us here to be his hands and feet. We are to show mercy, to love justice. We are to show mercy, as he is merciful. We are to feed those who are hungry, with the assurance that when we do, we are doing it to, and not just for, Jesus himself.
I wanted to tell that lady God did have a plan and we screwed it up. I wanted to tell her that it is not we who are waiting on God, but rather God who is waiting on us and that what Evelyn really had needed was not this lady’s prayers but a safe place to sleep at night. What I wanted to tell that lady, but didn’t, is that it is very obvious that we have the resources to help invisible people just like Evelyn but we simply lack the will to do so.
I did not tell that church lady any of that. But often I wish I had.
I posted the song in the previous post, then started catching up on some blogs that I read regularly. Two of them, "Under the Overpasses" and "Today at the Mission" are written by guys who serve broken, hurting, marginalized people at two different homeless shelters. They break my heart. They re-center me. They remind me that we (and that would be a big, fat "me included"), as the hands and feet of Jesus are, for the most part, doing a piss-poor job of being those hands and feet. Unless it's easy. Unless it's convenient. Unless we (gasp!) can keep ourselves clean while we serve (we don't really have to touch them, do we?) Unless it fits into our 2 hours of scheduled "charity" service on the third Saturday of each month.
Hugh Hollowell lives among "those" people in Raleigh, NC. He blogs here. You should read him. And, if you don't read him there, read him right here. I'm quoting this post in its entirety because it should be read. He speaks truth. And it's not "truth" just because I agree with it. I agree with it and, in the agreement, I acknowledge my own ugliness--my lack of mercy, my failure to feed the hungry, my refusal to love wholeheartedly because that demands more than I'm sometimes willing to give. I digress. Just read it.
"The Death of Evelyn and the Failure of the Church"
A heavy girl, perhaps 250 pounds, Evelyn’s greasy, stringy hair only served to accentuate her poor skin. Her weight made her shuffle rather than walk and her head was always bowed, seeking not to offend, avoiding eye contact. At 23, most people her age are very conscious of their appearance, but Evelyn’s wardrobe consisted of thrift store finds and cast offs, leaning heavily toward stretch pants and sweatshirts that advertised events she had never seen and places she would never visit.
It was my second month in Raleigh. I was volunteering with a group that fed the homeless in the park on Sunday when I met her for the first time. She shuffled through the line, mumbling thanks for the watery mashed potatoes and chili-mac, eyes on the ground. Several times I tried to engage her, but between my maleness and her demons, it just was not happening. Like a dog that had been struck once too often, she flinched at contact, muttering secrets only she knew to people only she saw.
When there was an open bed, Evelyn would stay at the woman’s shelter, but more often then not she had to make other arrangements. On cold nights, she would trade sexual favors in exchange for a warm bed. To pick up spending money, she would give men oral sex for $5. Because of her weight and mental issues, often the promise of a warm bed was revoked, or the money not paid after the oral sex had been given. Several people later told me Evelyn was often sexually assaulted and raped, unable to resist her attackers.
The last time I saw her was on a Thursday in early November. I remember it was inordinately cold that day, with a sharp, piercing wind.. Evelyn shuffled down the sidewalk, huddled down into her jacket, oblivious to my wave, ignoring me when I called.
That night Evelyn made it into the women’s shelter. In here she could sleep, secure in the knowledge she was safe. In the night Evelyn died of complications from sleep apnea. At age 23, she was another statistic of life, and death, on the streets.
* * * *
I told Evelyn’s story in a church once, and when I was finished they prayed fervent prayers that Evelyn would be at peace in the loving arms of Jesus. They prayed that those who would injure and molest women like Evelyn would be caught and punished. They prayed for God’s kingdom to come and for shalom to rest on our city.
At the end of the talk, a lady came up to me, obviously moved by my story and asked me the question I dread most: “How could God have allowed this to happen to Evelyn? Was this all part of God’s plan?”
If you spend much time working in the inner-city, you try not to ask yourself those kind of questions–not because you don’t know what the answer is, but because you do. Because if you think about it too much you get mad and because if you tell people the answer, you will not be invited back.
What I wanted to tell that lady, but did not, was God did have a plan to take care of Evelyn; God’s plan was us. God’s plan was to put us here to be his hands and feet. We are to show mercy, to love justice. We are to show mercy, as he is merciful. We are to feed those who are hungry, with the assurance that when we do, we are doing it to, and not just for, Jesus himself.
I wanted to tell that lady God did have a plan and we screwed it up. I wanted to tell her that it is not we who are waiting on God, but rather God who is waiting on us and that what Evelyn really had needed was not this lady’s prayers but a safe place to sleep at night. What I wanted to tell that lady, but didn’t, is that it is very obvious that we have the resources to help invisible people just like Evelyn but we simply lack the will to do so.
I did not tell that church lady any of that. But often I wish I had.
Monday, September 22, 2008
If you've not heard the news...
...the Cubs clinched the division title Saturday!! :-)
Yay for us. One step closer to THE dream. I don't get too excited about much in sports, but this excites me. I've been a Cubs fan since I was in college (I have a Ryne Sandberg jersey that I am PROUD to wear). As Cubs fans, we are eternally optimistic, always hopeful, always looking forward to that season when we play well after the All-Star break.
This year, they've been not only their division leader for most of the season (honestly, I'm not sure there was a time when they weren't, unless it was very early in the season), they also have the best record in all of the National League and, for a large chunk of the season, had the best record in all of MLB.
Every year, I tell all my Cardinal friends that this is our year...and every year, I eat my words at some point in the season--usually much earlier than this. But. This COULD actually the year. It's not just wishful thinking and a little bit of good ball-playing this year. This team is solid. Good. They could actually do it. Break the so-called "curse". End a century of dashed hopes. (Yes, it really has been 100 years since the last World Series victory for the Cubs.) It's time!!
I. AM. EXCITED.
Yay for us. One step closer to THE dream. I don't get too excited about much in sports, but this excites me. I've been a Cubs fan since I was in college (I have a Ryne Sandberg jersey that I am PROUD to wear). As Cubs fans, we are eternally optimistic, always hopeful, always looking forward to that season when we play well after the All-Star break.
This year, they've been not only their division leader for most of the season (honestly, I'm not sure there was a time when they weren't, unless it was very early in the season), they also have the best record in all of the National League and, for a large chunk of the season, had the best record in all of MLB.
Every year, I tell all my Cardinal friends that this is our year...and every year, I eat my words at some point in the season--usually much earlier than this. But. This COULD actually the year. It's not just wishful thinking and a little bit of good ball-playing this year. This team is solid. Good. They could actually do it. Break the so-called "curse". End a century of dashed hopes. (Yes, it really has been 100 years since the last World Series victory for the Cubs.) It's time!!
I. AM. EXCITED.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Order...
...what a beautiful thing.
I spent a large part of today entirely gutting my closet and dresser drawers. I always dread the task, but once it's done, I'm supremely glad I've done it.
I instituted a new "life rule" earlier this year--I decided that if I hadn't worn something for a year, unless I had a really good reason, it was going O-U-T. The 14 Rubbermaid RoughTotes on my porch, filled with clothes I'll never wear again but held onto for years, are testament to the reason for the rule.
So. I was tough. I have tees in every shade of the rainbow (thanks to Kohl's) and they look really nice in my closet when they're all in rainbow order like they should be. But. I think I wore maybe 3 of them this summer. Onto the "toss" pile they went. All but 4 of them. (#4 fell into that "good reason" category.) :-)
I threw out shoes I haven't worn in years...and now I have room for the ones I do wear. I kept the snowboots...probably just wishful thinking! Those cute little orange sequined flip-flops...come on. They were cheap, they ARE cute, but they hurt like hell every time I wear them (which has been maybe twice). All that foot surgery didn't do anything to make wearing cheap shoes feel any better. Oh well.
And then I moved on to the dresser. Out went socks and underwear. And more t-shirts. And everything went back into the drawers in my feel-good rainbow order.
My laundry is all done. My sheets are clean. Everything is in order. NOT the way I really like spending my Saturdays (really, I need a housekeeper, if I could just afford it, because I want to play on my day off), but I feel good. Satisfied. Organized. In order (rainbow, that is). Ready to face a chaotic world again.
Maybe I'll tackle the bookshelves tomorrow...
I spent a large part of today entirely gutting my closet and dresser drawers. I always dread the task, but once it's done, I'm supremely glad I've done it.
I instituted a new "life rule" earlier this year--I decided that if I hadn't worn something for a year, unless I had a really good reason, it was going O-U-T. The 14 Rubbermaid RoughTotes on my porch, filled with clothes I'll never wear again but held onto for years, are testament to the reason for the rule.
So. I was tough. I have tees in every shade of the rainbow (thanks to Kohl's) and they look really nice in my closet when they're all in rainbow order like they should be. But. I think I wore maybe 3 of them this summer. Onto the "toss" pile they went. All but 4 of them. (#4 fell into that "good reason" category.) :-)
I threw out shoes I haven't worn in years...and now I have room for the ones I do wear. I kept the snowboots...probably just wishful thinking! Those cute little orange sequined flip-flops...come on. They were cheap, they ARE cute, but they hurt like hell every time I wear them (which has been maybe twice). All that foot surgery didn't do anything to make wearing cheap shoes feel any better. Oh well.
And then I moved on to the dresser. Out went socks and underwear. And more t-shirts. And everything went back into the drawers in my feel-good rainbow order.
My laundry is all done. My sheets are clean. Everything is in order. NOT the way I really like spending my Saturdays (really, I need a housekeeper, if I could just afford it, because I want to play on my day off), but I feel good. Satisfied. Organized. In order (rainbow, that is). Ready to face a chaotic world again.
Maybe I'll tackle the bookshelves tomorrow...
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Montana, Take 2...
Here are some shots from my recent little adventure to Montana/Canada with my mom and my aunt. I'm still mulling over some things, trying to put the words together in some semblance of coherency, but it's just not really happening. So, I'll do the photo thing for now.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
He says my name...
I have a friend who, in the course of every conversation we have, never fails to call me by my name--at least once, usually several times.
We've been friends a long time. We've walked through a lot of tough stuff and heartache together. He knows me...more than just the good stuff, more than just the "surface me"--he knows my shortcomings and stumblings.
And I feel the full weight of that knowledge--and his acceptance of and care for me, even when my attitude is poor and my words are ugly--in the kindness of his tone and in the strength of my name as it rolls off his tongue. He says my name. He knows my heart.
He encourages me, because he's full of character and integrity and honor and God--he exemplifies all those good, godly characteristics...and rarely does he waver.
And when he says my name, it resonates with the strength of those traits and always reminds me that God knows my name and my heart and my shortcomings...and yet He never wavers in his love for me--even when my attitude is poor and my words are ugly.
My friend speaks my name with kindness and caring and knowledge...and that one word echoes back to me the deeper, stronger voice of God.
He says my name. He knows my heart. He loves me.
We've been friends a long time. We've walked through a lot of tough stuff and heartache together. He knows me...more than just the good stuff, more than just the "surface me"--he knows my shortcomings and stumblings.
And I feel the full weight of that knowledge--and his acceptance of and care for me, even when my attitude is poor and my words are ugly--in the kindness of his tone and in the strength of my name as it rolls off his tongue. He says my name. He knows my heart.
He encourages me, because he's full of character and integrity and honor and God--he exemplifies all those good, godly characteristics...and rarely does he waver.
And when he says my name, it resonates with the strength of those traits and always reminds me that God knows my name and my heart and my shortcomings...and yet He never wavers in his love for me--even when my attitude is poor and my words are ugly.
My friend speaks my name with kindness and caring and knowledge...and that one word echoes back to me the deeper, stronger voice of God.
He says my name. He knows my heart. He loves me.
Friday, September 12, 2008
A brief hiatus...
I just got home from a whirlwind trip to Montana on the train--I took my mom and my aunt to Glacier. Two days out on the train (3o+ hours), 3 days there (one in Canada), and 2 days home. I'm tired. Exhausted really. But feeling inspired.
I wrote a blog post on the back of an envelope while I was on the train. As soon as I can get it sorted out and typed, I'll post it.
I just finished reading "Jesus for President". It's lit a fire under me again. Not sure why I always have to be the weirdo who gets inspired by the "out there" stuff (which is not really all that "out there" when held up to the light/life of Jesus, but...).
I have some cool "social justice" project ideas for my church. Can't wait to share them with our pastor...he came straight from a homeless ministry to be our pastor, so he and I are pretty close to being on the same page on a lot of issues. I like that.
I just realized that every paragraph starts with "I"...and I wanted to add one more. ;-)
I wrote a blog post on the back of an envelope while I was on the train. As soon as I can get it sorted out and typed, I'll post it.
I just finished reading "Jesus for President". It's lit a fire under me again. Not sure why I always have to be the weirdo who gets inspired by the "out there" stuff (which is not really all that "out there" when held up to the light/life of Jesus, but...).
I have some cool "social justice" project ideas for my church. Can't wait to share them with our pastor...he came straight from a homeless ministry to be our pastor, so he and I are pretty close to being on the same page on a lot of issues. I like that.
I just realized that every paragraph starts with "I"...and I wanted to add one more. ;-)
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Stupid baseball...
(BIG sigh)
The BEST team in Major League Baseball has now lost 4 games in a row. Fortunately, Milwaukee and St Louis are on the same losing trend. My Cubbies are still in first place, have still won more games than any other MLB team and are still 10 games ahead of their arch-rivals (ha!), the Cardinals, but...
I'm ready for a WIN!! Or, quite a few, actually. This is no way for the future 2008 World Series champs to be acting right now.
Just had to vent... ;-)
The BEST team in Major League Baseball has now lost 4 games in a row. Fortunately, Milwaukee and St Louis are on the same losing trend. My Cubbies are still in first place, have still won more games than any other MLB team and are still 10 games ahead of their arch-rivals (ha!), the Cardinals, but...
I'm ready for a WIN!! Or, quite a few, actually. This is no way for the future 2008 World Series champs to be acting right now.
Just had to vent... ;-)
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Grateful...
...that Gustav is history.
...that Gulfport wasn't hit as hard as was initially predicted.
...that the levees in New Orleans have held so far.
...that people I know were making plans to head to the coast to help if needed.
...that people I DON'T know were doing the same.
...that I saw some very familiar places along Highway 90 on The Weather Channel.
...that I was able to feel "connected" all day, thanks to the wonders of technology.
...that Gulfport wasn't hit as hard as was initially predicted.
...that the levees in New Orleans have held so far.
...that people I know were making plans to head to the coast to help if needed.
...that people I DON'T know were doing the same.
...that I saw some very familiar places along Highway 90 on The Weather Channel.
...that I was able to feel "connected" all day, thanks to the wonders of technology.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
