Worry about Kieona

Not long ago as I spoke with another girl about God's calling on her life, we discussed how to discern God's nudges. She pointed out a simple discovery..."while God can communicate with us a hundred different ways...he often chooses the same way for each individual...so we can better understand Him."

I've considered it many times since that evening.

This morning I woke up and instantly a scripture marched through my head before my feet could hit the floor. Granted it was paraphrased as it marched...but it marched just the same..."start with the small things...then you will move onto the big things."

Through breakfast...lunch...and dinner...left...right...left...it marched.

Before I lay my head down tonight I realize God's a talking...and as he usually does with me...gently plants a seed and provides the conditions to let it grow.

Tonight I was reminded of what called me into this ministry. I was sitting on my porch, gazing at the stars through the city lights when one of my neighbor girls (also attends CF) ran by...and it hit me...one life. I was convinced when I joined CF that if I could just change one life...one life was enough. As she rounded the corner to run home, I considered the many paths she could run down. And if it is my calling to help her choose the right one, perhaps it won't make a difference to the world, but it sure will make a difference to her.

When I get overwhelmed wanting to impact my city...it is comforting to consider...maybe I don't have to worry about Rock Island right now...maybe I just need to worry about Kieona.

"You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things." Matthew 25:21

a man named Dutch

Christina and I wheeled around Rock Island feverishly completing registrations as we prepare for our 3rd and 4th grade camp next week. In one of the housing complexes, I reached for my van key which had been resting in my lap during our journey. Much to my surprise, no key was found. It was the expensive sort of key with the automatic clicker physically part of the key itself. We had been using Christina's key that afternoon, but mine had been with us earlier in the day. Panic started to rise in my chest. Where had I gotten out? The gut wrenching feeling began to take hold with the reality that my key was quite likely laying on the streets of the roughest housing complex we serve. Thoughts immediately began spinning as we headed the van west. If an electronic key was found on the streets, there was slim chance we'd get it back. Furthermore since the CF mini-van is known throughout the complex, it would quite possibly not be safe parked at the center, with an outstanding key.

A trip around the complex confirmed our fears...no key. However, we began asking around and randomly a few kids on the streets seemed to vaguely remember someone picking up a key. What seemed like a wild goose chase, led me to a little girl on a bicycle who informed me "Dutch picked something up." "Could you lead me to Dutch's door?" I asked. A few minutes later I was standing on a doorstep, admittedly with anxiety rising as the little girl peddled off. Knock...knock. A man opened the door displaying a mouth full of golden teeth. I began with my simple questions rehearsed in my head moments earlier. "Are you Dutch?" "I dropped a key and was told you may have found it." I paused... Almost instantaneously a smile was painted across his face "I knew someone would come looking for it" and he disappeared for a moment and then returned with the lost key, genuinely happy to return it to the rightful owner. I graciously thanked him as the door shut before me. I looked over towards Christina in absolute awe as we stood there a moment.

It is hard to tear down judgments, but people regardless of appearances, histories or lifestyles will continue to surprise me. I continue to be a student of the streets...and this day I learned my lesson from a man...named Dutch.

Atta boy

With Bibles and basketballs in their hands and new T-shirts on their backs, over 200 campers walked out of the last day of Hoops 4 Hope as the gym doors closed behind them. As the 3 day basketball camp ended, the volunteers joined hands and prayed for what the future would bring for those kids.

The entire camp seemed to be held with a much humbler spirit this year, or perhaps I myself was looking through much humbler eyes. I think God does a mightier work when it becomes less about ourselves and more about His glory.

During one of the Bible stations, the leader probed..."what makes you angry?"...and the 4th-6th grade boys in my group shot up their arms..."people making fun of my dad in prison"..."people saying my uncle should have defended himself...man, how do you defend yourself from a bullet?"...the answers may have continued...but my ability to listen stopped with these two. Each time I was forced to continually discipline their behavior throughout the camp, admittedly my frustration grew, but so did my prayers for grace.

During the week, as I took one camper out in the hallway to address him, I ran into an old acquaintance. I approached him with uncertainty. After we chatted awhile and caught up on the changes the past two years had brought about, I admitted "you are probably the last person I expected to see here"..."well Brandy you weren't on the top of my list either". We laughed at the surprising life changes time had produced. I got to share a bit of my testimony as he shared bits and pieces of the way his was still being formed. As as I spoke...he listened intently..."what a story Brandy...my story is so different"..."but it's still a story" I replied. He spoke about the amazing transformation he had witnessed in the life of the guy who founded Hoops 4 Hope, which is why he was there visiting. We spoke about transformed lives and how all stories are different but usually the marks of Christ are the same. I walked away in complete and utter awe. Realizing once again just how big the God we serve is. To see God working on this man's heart...amazed me. Not that I thought he was too far for God to reach, but I just never thought he'd have an interest to reach back. I state this fully realizing the same could have been said about me. I went back to my campers...but not before I looked up and gave God an "atta boy." :)

"I am the LORD, the God of all humankind. There is, indeed, nothing too difficult for me" Jeremiah 32:27

Unshackled

With a full tank of gas and an unplanned itinerary...my summer intern and I pointed the mini-van Northeast towards Chicago early Saturday morning. With loose plans to visit other urban ministries and attend a Hip Hop church service, we found ourselves touring a rescue mission for the homeless later that afternoon. It was a blessing we could not have planned for, to listen to the life transforming testimonies of faith in Jesus Christ. Pacific Garden Mission is well worth a visit. Visitors are blessed with an opportunity to sit in on a live recording of their radio drama, "Unshackled" which highlights stories of transformed lives and is aired around the world.

Living proof was our tour guide, a refugee from Africa who was living on the streets of New York when he heard an Unshackled airing. He immediately called Pacific Garden Mission as advertised at the end of the program and made his way to Chicago to join their resident Bible program. To see him in his shirt and tie, professionally leading the tour, professing the name of Christ, it is hard to imagine him ever living on the streets. He was so clearly free, unshackled from the bondages of his past.

Through the Beth Moore series, "When Godly People do Ungodly Things" I've been forced to examine a few bondages from my own past. For the first time I realized that I built my faith on top of my hurt and insecurities vs. allowing God to heal me from them. After coming to faith, I immediately went out to help the hurting vs. allowing my own hurts to be healed. Unfortunately Satan uses these hurts and insecurities to stifle our potential. I loved Beth's image of our ticket to freedom when she stated "Chain yourself to the wrist of Christ and start taking your first steps out of the darkness. Don't worry about the future right now. Just offer Him your wrist and tell Him to drag you home."

I imagined being shackled in a dark prison cell and fighting and tearing day and night to be freed from my bondage. After weeks, months, or years I realize the light in the hallway which has been my only saving grace through the darkness has been Christ all along...and now that I recognize Him...all I must do is invite him in...into my cell...into my mess...into my bondage...and my shackles immediately fall away. Now standing in the middle of the cell together...do I run for the door to escape? Or do I chain myself to the wrist of Christ and allow Him to lead me home?

As for you, because of the blood of my covenant with you,
I will free your prisoners from the waterless pit.
Return to your fortress, O prisoners of hope;
even now I announce that I will restore twice as much to you.
Zechariah 9:11-12

a glance at Solidarity

If someone would have asked me what the word meant a couple months ago...I'm not sure I could have come up with a concrete definition. But now the word radiates from my soul. Solidarity. According to one online definition it means "the feeling of unity based on common goals, interests, and sympathies. It is a term which is promoted by many social movements to help create social relationships based on justice and equality." Equality...there's a concept we often claim to believe but I question if we ever truly pursue.

In the baby hospital in Romania as I played with and fed 3 year old Zana Rostas...I could not help but compare her surroundings...a dirty room filled other with cribs and "forgotten" children...with the surroundings of my beloved...arguably spoiled niece...my heart and soul...Gracie Lynn. Why...I asked...how...could I possibly make sense of their vast differences of surroundings. Why was one born into privilege while another into rags?

We weren't allowed to take our cameras into the baby hospital...and after I met little Zana, I was devastated that I couldn't get a picture...but 2 years later...I realize...that little girl's face is forever etched in my soul.

In the end...when I reflect back on equality...it begs the question...does Gracie deserve a better life? Make no mistake...the little girl's heart absolutely amazes me every day and I would never pray for anything less than the very best for her. But...does she actually deserve a better life than Zana?

I serve every day in a community that it is far easier to pass judgment than to ever truly reach understanding. Because being born into a life of privilege...I really have no clue what it is like to live in a life of rags. I serve in a community that has been pushed to the outskirts of town...and fenced in...why...to keep them in? ...because nobody is standing at the gate...to be kept out.

There are no easy answers...and I'm just touching on the depths of solidarity. So I go to the Word to a scripture that reminds me why I fell in love with the amazing works and the man himself...Jesus Christ...

Commit yourselves to the same practical reasoning that you see and have in Christ Jesus,

who, though he was fully God,
did not use his equality with God for his own advantage,
but gave up everything,
becoming a slave in every way,
having been born just like any other human.
And when he had become like one of us,
he placed himself in solidarity with the humiliated,
following the way of obedience to the point of death
- even death on a cross.
Philippians 2:5-8

Christ defined solidarity by example...equal to God...yet made himself equal to the humiliated.