the letter

i am haunted by the end of a letter i read the other day. a letter from jail. a letter that ended in this:

will i ever be the same person again? am i lost? if i am, can i ever be found? my dream scared me to the bone. is it normal to be scared of yourself all the time?

it ended there, her name signed at the bottom, address carefully labeled on the envelope to arrive in my hands, to read in the soft light, to hold to my chest, to stare at the ceiling and ask God these questions for this woman.

and i am struck at the absurdity of this world that i am living in. where a woman can pen those words in a cell, crying for help, looking for a way out of the life she has been thrown into. where the people i went to high school with, some of them even my friends, can frequent the places that my heart bleeds for. that i could walk down a street every day, aching for a change in this city; only to have my friends walk these streets at night, with very different intentions.

i am struck by the position i find myself in, driving a minivan full of ex-prostitutes and felons to treatment centers, to church, to the home that i have been sharing with them. that they would wrap their arms around me and cry, that they would honor me with their stories, that they would allow me to share in their accomplishments, that they would express dismay and love at my departure next week. i am struck by the tension i feel within myself, rooted in my own world at home, and yet growing to deeply love this home of boisterous, loud, hilarious, caring, crazy, and strangely spiritual group of women.

daily i find the gap growing between where Jesus is leading me, who i am becoming, and the culture i am surrounded by. i look at my life and i laugh, sometimes i feel lonely,but at the end of the day; my heart is overflowing with gratitude and love. and each night, this woman's words echo in my head. and i know that my soul cannot rest until she, and all the women who share her questions, finds answers, finds hope, finds rest.

day 10

So I decided to start blogging again, before realizing that I am so busy I barely have time to do such a thing! For the record: I'm living in Tampa for the month of June as an intern with Created. I'm here to learn everything that I can, in order to someday soon start the same ministry in my own city.

While I'm here, I'm learning both the administration and relational side of the ministry. This means during the week, I'm in an office doing paperwork and such, and in the meantime; I'm living in the house with all the women in the program. I do not have words to describe how beautiful each one of them is, and how my love for their individual personalities grows each day. I could write pages about each of them and how wonderful they all are. Though they have had rough pasts, their futures are full of success, hope, and perfect love. I love listening to their dreams, reveling in their accomplishments, and sharing in their lives. It's an honor to listen, to carry the burden in any way that I can.

I'm learning a lot about patience, unconditional love, humility, and trusting God when I get overwhelmed in the midst of it. Yesterday I told a friend that I'm learning how to be more like Jesus, and being like Jesus is freaking hard. But it is good, so good, and I would not choose anywhere else to be this month.

i'm still alive

I was thinking today about how I never post on here anymore, and I realized it's because I stopped feeling like I had anything to write about worth reading about. Truth is, I've got tons of stuff, but I didn't feel like it appealed to my "audience" anymore. Until I realized, I'm only living for an audience of one. And if I'm trying to impress other people, I've already failed.

And, since I'm living in a different city during my internship this month, I figured it would be a good way to chronicle everything. As I learn and grow and encounter new things, I invite whoever still reads this to tag along. It's already been quite a ride, and I've barely been here a week.

movement

The other day, I celebrated my one year anniversary of having come home. Of having given up my life of emptiness and traded it in for God's grace, for His goodness. I carry thankfulness in my heart every day. It expresses itself in quiet remembrance, loud shouts of praise, laughter, tears... How could I ever show Jesus how thankful I am for His love?

We have begun working with the homeless, poor, and broken in St. Petersburg. We are starting a ministry to work with women caught up in the sex industry in our area, in whatever that looks like. We are coming alongside a ministry in Tampa that already does so, called Created. Having gone on outreaches up there recently, I cannot put into words how much my heart aches, how awful everything is. I cannot imagine doing anything but giving my entire life to it. The first step is getting to know St. Pete and its people. We spend most days in a park notorious for homeless people. We are learning their names, their stories. I am consumed with their lives and wanting to be a part of them. It is so hard to come home at the end of the day... I just want to live there.

This all started in January, when I felt Holy Spirit calling me to deeper intimacy with Jesus. And upon those nights locked in my room, crying on my face, the Lord moved me to action. It became that simple and yet monumental decision of seeing hurting people and doing something about it. I have not done anything great- I have just stepped into action. It is amazing how He will honor even the smallest movements. How He will use them to do so much. It is all unfolding in front of me and I simply stand amazed.

Please be in prayer for all of this, and for John as he leaves to go home to Panimaquin on Monday morning.

Happy March :)

busy bee

I'm going to skip all my jibber-jabber, and just post some fun photos of my life recently. I'm lazy, so what?

Robe time with Camilla and Drew while she was in town.

New Year's 80's cover band concert with Falyn.

22 mile bike ride with these lovely ladies.

Love the Poor, a weekly event on Monday nights. Feeding & hanging out with the homeless in St. Petersburg.

Hearing John speak about Guatemala at a Bible study.

Dressing up like a pirate for a treasure hunt for one of my friends.

& at the end of the day, it's just me and God. I couldn't ask for a more beautiful Creator.

goodbye 2010

as i reflect upon the past year, i am overwhelmed by the differences i am experiencing and the grace i have been shown. having coffee with a friend today reminded me of how different last year was, and how blessed i am to be where i am today. my life has finally stabilized and i am on a path to great things. not to mention i am inexpressibly happy.

god has been so good to me this year. in the depths of my pain and rebellion, he met me and drew me near. i have done more than a 180 in the past few months, and i am super excited to see what 2011 brings. the lord was so good to me when i was blatantly not following him, how good is he when i am actually seeking him? i'll tell you- absolutely incredible.

i hope each of you had a beautiful christmas, and that your new year brings you a refreshed hope for joy, grace, and peace in the new year.

i leave you with a picture of james, who played joseph in the nativity scene for my mother's church. the most adorable thing you've ever seen? you're welcome.

(he's the one in the middle with the headwrap, holding mary's hand. enlarge it for a better look at his face :D)

homeless jesus

Something that has been a frequent topic of conversation, and thought, in my life lately is homelessness. With Christmas right around the corner and Advent already in full swing, it’s almost impossible to not think of baby Jesus, born in a manger. For me, that continues to His life, death, and resurrection. A homeless baby born to be a homeless man that would later die to save my life. It blows my mind, honestly.

In the words of G.W. on Sunday morning, “Jesus was a homeless black man”. In today’s culture, He would be about the equivalent to us. Jesus took on literally the most humbled and despised place in society. He did the unthinkable. GOD, the Creator of the universe and all-powerful, Almighty King, came down as a vulnerable baby, and grew up to be a man hated by his culture. Do you ever wonder why so many homeless people seem to relate to the Christian religion so well? Because Jesus was where they are.

On Monday night, a group of friends and I went down to St. Pete to volunteer with Love the Poor, a ministry that hands out food and hangs out with homeless people in the area every week. I’ve been before a bunch of times in the summer, but not for a few months because I had class every Monday night. This was the first time I had ever gone when it was legitimately cold out. It was a freeze night, meaning it had gotten below a certain temperature to where emergency shelters opened their doors to the homeless population for the night. They had to be out at 5 AM, but at least had a warm bed for the night. However, not everybody was taking part in the freeze night, so there were still a lot of people on the streets.

Because it wasn’t warm out, as before, most people were sleeping when we got to them. Wrapped up in their blankets, or sleeping bags if they were lucky, they lined the street. I don’t really have words to say what that felt like, seeing them so vulnerable and cold out there… human beings, just like me. Human beings without homes, without warmth. There was a woman and her child wrapped in blankets. There was a man without blankets who had wrapped himself in plastic wrap. Jesus was homeless. These people were cold. We handed out blankets, sweat shirts, and food. We talked to those who were awake. We walked the streets, finding the ones without blankets. It was cold, and dark, and these people were sleeping outside.

Every day since, usually at morning and at night, I remember these people. There are over 6,000 homeless people in our county, and yet only 600 beds in shelters for them. Most of our homeless population is homeless children. They attend our schools. They sleep outside in the cold. I am deeply troubled and deeply upset by our lack of concern and action on this issue. As a believer in the homeless Jesus who saved my soul, I can’t walk past their bodies. I can’t pretend I didn’t see all that, didn’t talk to them, didn’t hear their stories. And so I pray, and I think of my Jesus, come to me as a baby, and I trust Him to be the answer to the world.

May we be the hands and feet of the One who loved us.

The One who was born, thousands of years ago, homeless and cold.

And may we remember those who are homeless and cold tonight.

May we be the love to warm the night.