More than Just a Merry Christmas

12/23/2010…My original plan was to end the 2010 year with a hearty “Merry Christmas” to all who may be following my blog of past journal entries leading up to the present day and beyond.

But this morning I received an early morning text from Bob back in Mississippi. It said “Terry wants to see you next Wednesday.” I read the text and was stunned, actually am still stunned. In the New Year, I will post Part 10, a story about Alma. I just finished posting Part 9. Between these two postings is a “God thing” as my friend David puts it. Both these postings are connected and there is redemption at work by God on my behalf, something of which I do not deserve. Indeed, there will be an outcome that is uncertain, but what is certain is a divine appointment has been set when I return to Mississippi next week.

My original plan was traveling with Melody to see her parents in Sumrall, Mississippi. Then we were thinking of driving up to Jackson, Mississippi on Monday to see Bridgett and Bob and his family. That was the plan. Now there is a different plan. I ask myself. How far is it worth me to go to potentially save a soul? How much comfort am I willing to forego just to have an opportunity to tell someone about Christ? How much inconvenience am I willing to endure for an uncertain possibility that may fizzle out? There are no guarantees.

I have not seen or talked with Terry in almost two years. We met briefly on the streets of Jackson and talked about surface matters. I did not preach to him, instead I tried to build a relationship, but he was hesitant to let me inside his world, so I respected his walls. I invited him to come with me to a Double A Braves game in Mississippi several times but he declined.

Terry was trying to figure out why we came down to the inner city of Jackson. Were we trying to be good Christians and put notches on our belt? Were we trying to make our rich selves feel better by coming down there to do our Christian duty and then return to the comfort of our homes? What was our intent? What were we trying to get out of this? Surely all of us who were coming down there were doing it for some selfish reason, otherwise why come at all? When a person is living in the world, these will be the natural questions to ask because this is what the world sells. Self. Following Christ though means turning selfishness into unselfishness and in its purest form, not expecting anything in return. This is the motive behind those who serve in the Jackson Street Ministry, nothing more.

And so now, almost two years later, I receive an early morning text that says “Terry wants to see you next Wednesday.” I think I am going to go.

Merry Christmas…

Part 9 of 18: Bridgett

1/21/09…God is working, and I am once again amazed at how he connects the dots. Amusingly I think to myself that He must really enjoy those connect the dot drawings that kids do, except unlike us, He is really good at it. For some reason, the Holy Spirit places an urging in me to donate my spare bed to Bridgett. Bridgett is someone I just met who joins us or maybe it is us who joins her on Wednesday nights. Recently she announced she is starting up a shelter for battered women and children in order to help them get off the streets. This is the lady who joyfully takes food every single day, not just on Wednesdays, to those on the streets. Once again God always shows me one more person in this world that is doing more than me, I suppose in order to keep my pride from swelling up, and once again it works. Indeed, Bridgett doesn’t just meet the needs of those in the streets; she goes deep into wooded areas where homeless camps are hidden from view. These are places none of us would deem safe, but not to her. Her testimony is powerful because she exudes nothing but God working through her.

And so the Holy Spirit is not leaving me alone when I learn she is opening her shelters. I obtain a phone number from Bob and then I fail to call her for 5 days, and still the Spirit will not leave me alone. Finally I give in and call her. I honestly do not know if she really needs the bed, maybe she is just being nice when she says “sure I’ll take it.” So Bob and I proceed during lunch one day to deliver the mattress and box springs. We pull up in the middle of a tough neighborhood and see her red car; you always know it is Bridgett by the red car. After a few minutes we locate her inside one of the houses. She is currently doing demolition in one of the front rooms.

After a few minutes of conversation, I now realize why the Spirit led me to her because she needs beds badly. She is stepping out in faith. Over the last few years her life has been dedicated to meeting the immediate needs of those on the streets, but when her pastor at New Jerusalem challenges her to take the next step and help them get off the street, she after much hesitation steps out in faith. Now she has no idea where the money is going to come from, or the help she needs to renovate, or even how it is all going to work out, but somehow she is moving forward. Bridgett will earn no pay for doing what she is about to do. Each house will house up to 10 women and children. The first shelter is scheduled to open the 2nd week in February.

And now I am once again curious to see how God is connecting all the dots in my life and how He has connected me to her. At one time when I came down to Clinton I was joyful and ready for God to use me because I was on fire after my mission trip to China, and then…God put the brakes on. He seemed to say no, you are not ready…but God “I am ready.” After months and months of waiting to serve with dead ends always appearing, and suddenly becoming despondent, God finally is showing me something of which I am not aware, but He is doing it in His timing, not mine. Now after months of being in the silent desert, I can begin to see His unmistakable hand in all these steps; to Him having me buy a house in a certain neighborhood when He knew I was still chasing worldly possessions, to Him having patience with me for 7 months until I grew deeper in love with Him, to Him showing me His desires in Isaiah and throughout the Bible to care for the less fortunate, to Him crossing my path with my neighbor Bob, and now to Him showing me Bridgett. Now I try not to think beyond tomorrow, because somehow I feel He is guiding me into something of which I do not know. It seems each step is building onto itself and I have to rest in Him knowing He is working out the plan, not me…

Part 8 of 18: Mark and Ron

1/17/09…

Part 7 of 18: Gerry

1/14/09…As we leave Red and Henry behind, we decide to head downtown into places most would dare not walk alone at night. The streets are mostly deserted due to the bone chilling cold. We drive up and down a number of streets to see if anyone is in need of help. We do not so much as meet Walter but stumble upon him. We notice a big lump of blankets behind a UHaul trailer and as we approach the pile of blankets, Walter’s dog PooPoo yelps at us. We ask him if he needs anything and he says he is fine. I think really he wanted us to leave so we would not draw attention to him. Imagine sleeping in your house and someone walks in your front door, goes straight to your bedroom, and asks you do you need anything. It can be a little annoying, especially if you are trying to avoid any detection by police cruising around. This is probably what Walter is feeling…so we leave.

The evening air is bitterly cold. As we are wrapping up the night, the streets are indeed deserted, but Bob feels a need to make one more pass down through an abandoned neighborhood full of deserted shops, broken window panes, and dwellings in disrepair. Miraculously we stumble upon Gerry, one of the men we see on Wednesday’s at the Opportunity Center, a place where we do our evening ministry in a parking lot. We pull up beside him in our van. I notice Gerry is a little tipsy. He has some sort of dried up food or throw-up coming out of the side of his mouth. He tells us over and over, “I can’t get my hands warm, I can’t get my hands warm.” The temperature is already in the twenties with a light wind causing the air to be even colder. Gerry has no gloves on. Kristi steps out of our truck and takes off her mittens and lovingly places them on Gerry’s hands. Gerry is only wearing a baseball cap so I ask him if he wants a toboggan to cover his ears and he says yes. He almost tips over as he tries to put it on so I tenderly say to him, “Remove your cap and I’ll place the toboggan on you, okay?” We let him hop in the truck and turn the heat on full blast. He asks us to take him to his home, apparently an old abandoned warehouse about 2 miles down the road.

We arrive and Gerry has us pull into the decrepit parking lot. We stay as long as he wants us to in order for him to warm up. Then it is time to go but before we do, we pray for Gerry. Then Gerry prays for us. Gerry’s prayer brings a tear to my eye because here he is getting ready to go back in the brutally cold air while we go back to our warm homes, and he is thanking and praising, I mean really praising God for us. It was amazing to hear this and certainly it feels as if due to Gerry’s earnest prayers of praise to his Father, that in turn our Father ensures that people cross paths with Gerry during the times he needs them most. And I think of the teaching in Matthew where Jesus tells us not to worry about food or clothing, but turn ourselves to Him, and He will provide.

After praying, Bob and I step out of the van to wish Gerry a “God Bless” and a “Take Care,” but as we are uttering the words, flashing blue lights suddenly appear from nowhere and a spotlight shines glaringly into our eyes. It seems a police car on patrol happened upon us and I am thinking they probably think a drug deal is going down. One of the officers with a bullet proof vest exits the car and quickly asks us “What’s going on here!?” Me, I am like a deer caught in headlights or more like police lights and offer no response. After both officers approach us, Bob speaks up and lets the officers know we are just trying to help Gerry. The officers begin asking Gerry questions about where he is staying. Gerry tries to give them an answer just enough to suit them but not enough to give away his location, otherwise Gerry may end up in jail. After a few minutes of telling Gerry he is trespassing and needs to move on, or he needs to go to an area shelter, another police car pulls up with flashing lights and a glaring spotlight. Out steps a defensive lineman for Ole Miss, or at least that what he looked like to me. He wanders over and asks, “What’s going on!?”

After a few more minutes, the officers make a comment about us, saying they understand we are part of the street ministry team that comes down here to provide spiritual and physical nourishment to the homeless and those in need. They tell Gerry he can stay due to the inclement weather but when it warms up he will have to move on…and they leave…hmmm.

Gerry keeps apologizing to us saying he has to ask forgiveness of God for telling a white lie; i.e. he did not tell the officers exactly where he was staying. We keep telling him over and over it is okay, God understands. We climb back into our truck, and as we turn back onto the pitted road with dilapidated buildings and overgrown underbrush staring back at us, we see Gerry walking around the abandoned warehouse…



Part 6 of 18: Red and Henry

1/14/09…Imagine how cold ice is. If you touch it and let your finger linger there, you soon feel a stinging numbing pain. Such is tonight as Bob, his wife Kristi, his daughters Ally and Kayla, and me, their adopted brother, drive towards downtown Jackson. Temperatures will be dipping into the teens tonight. We are not sure of our destination, only that we want to be an avenue for God to use as He sees fit because out in the street there are no accolades, only a chilling reminder of how blessed we are, I am. After a few turns, we find the highway overpass Bob’s former policeman friend Keith told him about. Here under interstate I-20 live Red and Henry; yes they have lived here for the last 3-4 years. I am unable to fathom how they live here under the noise created by 18 wheelers speeding over their heads all night long. It is already dark out when we park our truck at the bottom of their concrete home. Bob gets out and shines his flashlight into the lurking concrete darkness and starts yelling above the traffic noise, “Hey anybody up there!! We have some blankets, jackets, things to keep you warm!! Anybody there!! In a few seconds we look up and we see the shadows of two men emerge faintly in the moonlit night, looking like something out of a horror show, seriously. It seems a little surreal. The funny thing is, the more homeless people I meet, the more taken aback I am at their gentle heart and humility, not at the horror show that some portray them to be.

Red and Henry carefully make their way down the slanted concrete to the bottom where we are standing. In love, we hand them some hamburgers, water, and plenty of warm blankets and clothing. They ask for candles, something of which I do not understand until afterwards; candles burn a lot longer than wood or paper or debris and it offers some light and a little bit of warmth for their hands. Hmmm…the fact is the longer I am involved in street ministry, the more I am learning the special needs of those who call concrete home. We say goodbyes and I utter a “God Bless” and a “Take Care,” but I am immediately struck by how ridiculous these words may sound as I utter them, especially as they hike back up the steep concrete embankment and disappear into the dark shadows. In the bitter cold of night, my breath visibly appears in the air. I along with Bob hurriedly climb back into the warmth of the truck. My thoughts are anything but peaceful. Instead they are jumbled. 

Part 5 of 18: The Cold Streets of Jackson

1/13/09…Our van stops at Miss Dorothy’s house, a 74 year old who lives in a duplex in a downtrodden Jackson, Mississippi neighborhood. As we exit out to do our weekly check on Miss Dorothy, a lady emerges from the shadows from the park across the street. She approaches us and we say “hello.” She makes some small talk but it is clear it is not small talk she desires. Unbeknownst to us she has been waiting for us to arrive because every Wednesday, like clockwork, we show up at Miss Dorothy’s house, usually around 8:30 pm. Somehow, through word of mouth she knew we were coming.

Our team begins piling out of our van. Michael, part of our street ministry team, greets her and starts to talk but then he quickly realizes he needs to listen. We all gather around Benita and she tells us she has been waiting for us all night because she has nowhere else to turn. Her face is in agony, her tears are pouring out, and she is not sure what to do with herself. All she knew to do was wait in the shadows for us to come. She said that is all she knew to do. As she begins to talk, she tells us her son has killed someone, her son has now been sentenced to life in prison, and her son who was a high school football star and had a scholarship at Jackson State is now behind bars for the rest of his life. Unable to process this, she cries out why to us, why did he have to do this!? In agony that only a mother can understand, she tells us how she went to visit him in jail and asked him why, “...my son, why did you do this?” In response, she said he simply shrugged his shoulders and looked down because he was unable to look into his mother’s eyes. After this encounter, apparently just hours before, she was left to aimlessly wander in the streets, carrying a pain and a burden that none of us can relate to. All she knew to do was wait for us, and as her tears drop onto the cold streets of Jackson, we gather around her, lay hands on her, and Michael prays as earnestly as he can to our Father in heaven, asking Him to comfort her, and to somehow show her in her deepest pain that there is still hope when hope lies in Him.