homeless

i was sitting inside jersey mikes, eating my sandwich alone, when he passed by the window. watching as the blustery winds and snow swirled around his body, as a finger from the Lord Himself pointing him out to me. "he has to be cold." i thought to myself. i checked the weather on my iphone; feels like 16. i saw him standing under the awning, only to walk back and forth to the corner of the building, as if he was indecisive about which place guarded him from the wind the best. he walked back one last time, before disappearing out of my sight around the corner of the window.

i had saved half my sub, which i never do when i just get the regular one. i just hadn't seemed as hungry as i thought i was before i left church. when he appeared again in my peripheral, i knew that the Lord had multiplied that food as i ate, that the other half of the sandwich was never mine to begin with.

i rolled down my window and stuck my hand out in the snow. "would you like the other half of my sandwich?" i asked. he looked at me without saying a word and began to slowly walk over. "thank you, honey. God bless you." he replied. the sadness in his eyes spoke more truth and pain than his words ever could. as he backed away, i could sense his humility when he asked, "honey, you wouldn't be able to help my wife, could you? we're about to be put out of our room. do you have any cash to spare?" my heart broke. i was speechless. "i'm sorry, i can't." my heart wanted to say so much more, but my lips never caught up. "thank you. God bless." he responded. i rolled up my window, and went on my way.

now i know a host of people that would be skeptical of the whole situation, and some that say it has been their own poor decision in life that have left them homeless. but the humility and hesitation in his words, the shame he conveyed as he reached out for help, the look of sorrow in his eyes-- can not be faked, can not be ignored.

waiting at the stop light, i saw him standing there where i had left him with the sandwich. just standing, in the pelting snow and freezing wind. not on the corner, not panhandling or begging. not even approaching any of the customers as they left. just standing in a place where he literally had no idea what he was to do next. i may have never been homeless, but i've been there. standing, stranded, hopeless. knowing i shouldn't be in the rain, but not knowing where to turn or how to keep moving.

i drove away and began to cry out to God. "Lord!" i called. "what more can I do?! i want to help. no one should be out in the cold with no where to go. why can't i help him? who can help?" my heart was breaking for a population in which i know exists, but one that is much easier to evade eye-contact with when we are met with a red light and a black-marker sign.

i cried and cried and begged God to intervene, to use another person to help. to do what they can. i kept saying over and over to God, all i have is a sandwich. all i could give was a sandwich. i felt so guilty. here i was, in a warm coat, in a warm car, going back to my warm house. i worry about finances and if i'll ever pay off my bills, but today i was worried if i would be able to make it down to Jo-Ann's fabrics in the snow before it got dark. we've been blessed by His hand, and even though we may think we don't have much, or even what we deem "enough," we have been provided for by our Jehovah Jirah. i sat in the parking lot at Kroger, praying for this man and the pain i saw in His eyes. Lord, touch someone's heart to help. Give him a second chance. may he be supernaturally warmed by Your love and Your spirit.

we are all homeless in this world. we are all lost, and standing in the snow, not certain what to do next. but the Lord is calling us home. He is offering us mercy from the storm and inviting us into right-relationship with Him. He is extending His grace in exchange for our hearts to praise Him. i am so comforted by this, knowing that even in the times I find myself at a loss for words or direction or protection from the cold, there He is; prepared to take me in, keep me fed and make sure I'm warm.

a challenging reminder

a year ago, i submitted and presented my thesis for my master's degree. this is an excerpt from the conclusion that i recently re-read and was floored at the charge it made. keeping myself accountable on this. it is the very essence of my creation.

***

Although this is a small study by comparison, the implications are vast. There is a need to be met. There are real people; not just study subjects, that yearn for a break from the monotonous cycle of poverty - illiteracy - poverty. There are mothers; that may have had no choice to become mothers and now have no knowledge on how to raise a child. There are children; laboring in the fields to help provide for their family, yet missing the opportunity to become educated and to rise above the poverty they were born into. There are babies; dying of malnutrition and disease, simply because the communication of knowledge and information to the rural poor is inefficient. And there are teachers; those with a wealth of knowledge at their fingertips. Eager to use our talents, and skills, and passions. Perhaps, we lack the venue. Or the confidence. Or even are deaf to the calling. However; to whatever respect, we must do what we’ve been called to do: teach, serve, save. Research. Mobilize. “Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it,” (attributed to Mahatma Ghandi, unknown).

polluted

driving west into the sunrise this morning, i was in awe (and almost pain) with its enigmatic florescent crimson-orange glow as it crawled over the horizon slightly quicker than i managed to get myself out of bed. i remember long ago reading about how pollution often magnifies the vividness of the colors reflected from the sun as the light must travel longer distances the further the sun becomes from directly overhead.

i thought of how merciful it was that the Father can use pollution to ultimately magnify His beauty. that even at our ugliest, we can not disguise His awesomeness. we are never to far gone to be used.

Haitian Election

i've been desperate to blog today. and i've totally forgot what i was so eager to etch into the world-wide-web-twitterverse-facebooksphere. but i know it had to do with greatness. the following will be lackluster in comparison.

***

in another one of God's divine appointments, i've been placed at a wonderful school in which we have two custodians from haiti. lucita and pierre have lived here for 10 years after hailing from port-au-prince. each day, i have the blessing of speaking to each of them, in french, and about the on-goings in their country. i remember breaking the news to lucita about the cholera epidemic as reports slowly came out of the artibonite valley (in the same villages that ywam was working with to establish housing for internally displaced) about a quick-killing water-born disease.

this week, we've been speaking a lot about the state of affairs involving the election of a new president. with the former president in exile and unable to help rebuild a desperate nation after the devastating earthquake-- oh my gosh moment: almost a year ago already. WOW. i can't handle that-- the nation is in desperate need for a leader that is for the people and uninvolved in any corruption, etc. with many polling places filing reports of corruption, ballot stuffing, and all-out chaos, it did not surprise anyone when one of the run-off candidates (because no one won by a majority) was both not a front runner or favorite and related to former (and corrupt) president preval.

my heart breaks for a nation that has experienced SO much turmoil in a few short months. first, a devastating earthquake. then droughts and famine. next, hurricanes, floods, cholera. now riots and manifestations (i even typed that with the french accents in my head) and all hell breaking loose due to the rigged elections.

buried beneath the rubble of the earthquake and deep in their generational poverty, Haitians have long ago learned that they have no voice. who hears their cries? the cries of the people, the citizens, the dying malnourished? a country credited with the only successful slave revolt has its history deep-rooted in rebellion. who can blame them? when no one listens, and rebellion is the only way to get the attention of those in control, it seems like a logical step.

my prayer for haiti tonight is that they choose to be heard in their protests through peaceable assemblage; that they would not wreck havoc and violence on an already crippled country in the name of being heard. i pray that the Lord would hear their cries. that He would meet the corruption with justice, removing the chains from a nation that needs to reap in His already-granted Freedom.

maybe it's not supposed to feel right

i woke up this morning in a funk. aside from hormones, i'm not sure what to attribute it to. just yesterday, i was spending an extra 5 hours at school, working but feeling blessed until my spirits took a dive for depression-ville late last night.

i found myself trolling the web for stories of haiti, updates on friends there and elsewhere that i met during my time living in St. Marc. i found myself in tears at the words of others; words that resonated in my heart in ways that only words spoken by someone who gets it can.

i read a blog of a family that recently returned stateside after serving in haiti since 2006 (you can read (and cry) about them here in the original post). the wife, tara, makes the statement that home is everywhere, and nowhere. i totally feel that. since being back from haiti, i have had a sense of tension with being here. i've been back in nashville longer than i was even gone, and that tension is still unresolved. nashville is my home. i'm living in a nice house, working in a fabulous school, getting paid for using my degree, cooking in an equipped kitchen, using modern amenities like a/c, heat, washer/dryer and a dishwasher, driving my air-conditioned car 20 miles to work each day, and not covered in sweat when i wake up in the middle of the night. but something doesn't feel right. and that feeling won't dissipate.

she gets that. and eugene cho did too. en route to haiti while leaving his wife and kids in seattle, he wrote a blog post explaining the tension. cho says: "There’s this constant tension because I want it to feel right. I want them to feel right. I want to feel right…I want to be right. And maybe that’s the whole point. Maybe there’s something about following Christ that just doesn’t feel right. Or rather, how did we get duped into thinking that taking up the Cross felt right? Be encouraged my friends. If things aren’t “right with you,” maybe you’re in a good place…"

where did we get the notion that things were supposed to feel right? and when did we decide that being in a place where things didn't feel right was a bad place to be?

it is that tension that challenges us to live differently. to be different. as Tara says, "I think ... that living in this tension is part of what it feels like to always long for something more, something like Heaven."

i'll admit, the most difficult part for me in being back has been my interactions with friends. i am no longer the person i was, and it is hard for me to accept that they have not shared in those experiences with me. because of that, i get frustrated easily, and isolate myself or remove myself from conversation when it becomes sarcastic, offensive, or throws someone under the same bus they just crawled out from. in no way do i intend to sound holier-than-thou, and that is another stitch of tension i experience. my heart and mind have been radically broken and transformed, taught to seek to help and not harm, that i really struggle with just being "normal".

i'm left longing for more, longing for that piece of heaven. and cho is right. it won't "feel right." not until we are reunited with Christ as the full expression of who He created us to be in His image. in the meantime, it is up to us to flourish as we live out the lives we were created to live and the callings we are to fill here on earth. our calling may not be to a land or a people or even a career. but it is most certainly a calling to live for Christ, to become more like Him, and to serve and love one another.