Today, we ask your prayers for our people.
Last week, a 21-year-old man named Takim Smith was stabbed to death in Troy. We know his mother and little sisters, and we also know the family of one of the suspects.
As we remember our own sinfulness and mortality this Ash Wednesday -- while trusting the mercy and love of God -- let us plead for that grace to be poured out in the lives of those who grieve.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
The one who humbles himself will be exalted
"But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’" -- Luke 18:13
We did Bible study last week with a friend who used to -- as recently as last winter -- live on the streets in Troy. He gets 16 dollars each month for food, so he spends the rest of his time looking for odd jobs and collecting cans to try to get some extra money to eat. When I see men and woman walking in the bitter cold and fishing through our recycling bins, I cannot help but think of the poor who gleaned the fields.
This friend admitted he doesn't pray for himself anymore. He prays for young people because he says there's hope for them -- their lives are ahead of them. He doesn't pretend to have many answers. He said that he doesn't know a lot about God ("I never met him"), but he knows Jesus -- the savior, the crucified one, the carpenter who worked with his hands.
I listened to my friend, who has lived in terrible cold and heat, who wants very little, and who has experienced great kindness and great cruelty from many people in many places. And I couldn't help but wonder -- with my seminary degree and my gifts, with my comfortable house and full refrigerator, am I perhaps not still the poorer? Don't I sometimes slide into the smug lie that trusts that I'm righteous?
Lord Jesus, who knew terrible cold and heat, who wanted little, and who experienced great kindness and great cruelty from many people in many places...give me just a fragment of the simple faith of your servant in Troy. And Lord, meet him where he needs you most. Amen.
We did Bible study last week with a friend who used to -- as recently as last winter -- live on the streets in Troy. He gets 16 dollars each month for food, so he spends the rest of his time looking for odd jobs and collecting cans to try to get some extra money to eat. When I see men and woman walking in the bitter cold and fishing through our recycling bins, I cannot help but think of the poor who gleaned the fields.
This friend admitted he doesn't pray for himself anymore. He prays for young people because he says there's hope for them -- their lives are ahead of them. He doesn't pretend to have many answers. He said that he doesn't know a lot about God ("I never met him"), but he knows Jesus -- the savior, the crucified one, the carpenter who worked with his hands.
I listened to my friend, who has lived in terrible cold and heat, who wants very little, and who has experienced great kindness and great cruelty from many people in many places. And I couldn't help but wonder -- with my seminary degree and my gifts, with my comfortable house and full refrigerator, am I perhaps not still the poorer? Don't I sometimes slide into the smug lie that trusts that I'm righteous?
Lord Jesus, who knew terrible cold and heat, who wanted little, and who experienced great kindness and great cruelty from many people in many places...give me just a fragment of the simple faith of your servant in Troy. And Lord, meet him where he needs you most. Amen.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Troy's Hidden Woman of Prayer
Note: We have a backlog of stories from Oaks of Righteousness that we wanted to share with you. This story is from a couple of months ago.
I feel like my life is becoming a collection of "crazy God stories." This is certainly one of them.
This story falls into the category of a "God gives us what we need" story. When we first opened Oaks Cafe, we collected a lot of these. For instance, we wanted a foosball table. We prayed, "God, if this isn't too dumb of a request, could you give us a foosball table for the Cafe so the kids can play?" Within two days, we had two offers of foosball tables from two sources who knew nothing about what we'd prayed.
All that to say, God keeps giving us what we need. So, getting on to the main story....
Hannah and I decided it was time for me to implement the missionary strategy of walking around our neighborhood, talking to people, praying for them, and basically acting like their pastor until they accept me as such. (It works better than you might think). Troy has some rough parts, and we discussed who might be a good person to walk with me in those areas. We both thought of a warm, no-nonsense friend of ours who's done street ministry for years and decided to ask her when we had a chance.
The next day -- as I was getting ready to make my rounds -- this friend spontaneously showed up to help out. Figuring God was giving us who we needed for the day, she and I set out for the rough neighborhood.
As we journeyed along, we encountered a middle-aged woman with a sweet face who was picking up cans to trade in for cash. We walked over to talk to her and realized she only spoke French (not a language one normally expects to encounter in Troy).
I don't speak French. But my friend, it turns out, used French years ago and was able to talk a little with this woman. A smile spread across our new friend's face as she heard her native language. She said her name is Rosalee, she is from the Ivory Coast, and she is Catholic. As she'd been walking and picking up cans, she was "Praying to God."
All this to say two things:
First is that my God is the father of orphans, the defender of widows, and the lover of immigrants and outcasts. In his incredible love for Rosalee, my Lord set up a dizzying set of circumstances so that she'd encounter two sisters in Christ in a foreign -- and probably often unkind -- land. And for just a few moments, she'd hear words of love and kinship in her own tongue.
Second is that my God allowed me the humble honor of meeting one of Troy's hidden women of prayer, who speaks to the lover of her soul and mine -- hidden in plain sight.
Lord Jesus, you said, "For nothing is hidden that will not be made manifest, nor is anything secret that will not be known and come to light." Lord, how beautiful is just a glimpse of what you have hidden in this world! Give us hunger for the wonders to be revealed, along with the trust to wait on you. Amen.
I feel like my life is becoming a collection of "crazy God stories." This is certainly one of them.
This story falls into the category of a "God gives us what we need" story. When we first opened Oaks Cafe, we collected a lot of these. For instance, we wanted a foosball table. We prayed, "God, if this isn't too dumb of a request, could you give us a foosball table for the Cafe so the kids can play?" Within two days, we had two offers of foosball tables from two sources who knew nothing about what we'd prayed.
All that to say, God keeps giving us what we need. So, getting on to the main story....
Hannah and I decided it was time for me to implement the missionary strategy of walking around our neighborhood, talking to people, praying for them, and basically acting like their pastor until they accept me as such. (It works better than you might think). Troy has some rough parts, and we discussed who might be a good person to walk with me in those areas. We both thought of a warm, no-nonsense friend of ours who's done street ministry for years and decided to ask her when we had a chance.
The next day -- as I was getting ready to make my rounds -- this friend spontaneously showed up to help out. Figuring God was giving us who we needed for the day, she and I set out for the rough neighborhood.
As we journeyed along, we encountered a middle-aged woman with a sweet face who was picking up cans to trade in for cash. We walked over to talk to her and realized she only spoke French (not a language one normally expects to encounter in Troy).
I don't speak French. But my friend, it turns out, used French years ago and was able to talk a little with this woman. A smile spread across our new friend's face as she heard her native language. She said her name is Rosalee, she is from the Ivory Coast, and she is Catholic. As she'd been walking and picking up cans, she was "Praying to God."
All this to say two things:
First is that my God is the father of orphans, the defender of widows, and the lover of immigrants and outcasts. In his incredible love for Rosalee, my Lord set up a dizzying set of circumstances so that she'd encounter two sisters in Christ in a foreign -- and probably often unkind -- land. And for just a few moments, she'd hear words of love and kinship in her own tongue.
Second is that my God allowed me the humble honor of meeting one of Troy's hidden women of prayer, who speaks to the lover of her soul and mine -- hidden in plain sight.
Lord Jesus, you said, "For nothing is hidden that will not be made manifest, nor is anything secret that will not be known and come to light." Lord, how beautiful is just a glimpse of what you have hidden in this world! Give us hunger for the wonders to be revealed, along with the trust to wait on you. Amen.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Two girls, St. Agnes and Dr. King
On Monday, we embarked on a new adventure in discipleship at Oaks of Righteousness. We went to the mall.
Let me back up a little bit and explain. We've been operating Oaks Cafe & Ministry Center now since March. It's become a regular hangout place, by God's grace, for dozens of children and teens. We've served hundreds of meals, hundreds of snacks. We've played roughly 80,000 games of Uno (maybe not quite that many), and we've shared the gospel with dozens of people.
But, we've gotten restless. Most of our regular volunteers -- including Hannah and myself -- have begun to wonder "What's next?" We have a hunger to disciple -- not just to evangelize. And the Cafe, while a haven compared to the street outside, is still a lively and sometimes chaotic place where it's difficult to disciple with depth.
It is terribly hard living in North Central Troy. Just last week, a few adults from the neighborhood talked about being able to feel the anger and the hopelessness in the air, like a heavy cloud. I find it tough to be at Oaks for the roughly 15 hours the building is open each week. But, I can leave. Most of the people who live there, especially the children, can't.
Enter the mall. We realized that, to disciple with depth and express love to our young people, we need to take them out of the neighborhood on field trips. So, we began weekly mentoring this week with two of our girls. Each week, we go somewhere for a couple of hours to have fun, and we talk about God.
This week, we went to the mall, ate cupcakes, ran up the down escalator and spent a good chunk of time in the pet store. And, we talked about the Christian witness of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., since it was his day.
As we sat in the food court -- two Euro-mutt pastors, an African American kid and a Puerto Rican kid, we talked about the fact that, not so long ago, our meeting wouldn't have been possible in public. One of the kids was shocked -- different dining spaces, different water fountains, different schools, different bathrooms? "That's just rude!" she exclaimed.
We talked about the bravery of those in the Civil Rights movement. And, we talked about the fact that, for Dr. King, his love of Jesus Christ was what compelled him to join in the fight. And, to give his life. "Greater love has no man...."
We also talked about the scandalous fact that, if he repented and asked forgiveness, even Dr. King's murderer may be singing the praises of God with us in heaven someday. Scandalous mercy and amazing grace.
Finally, we talked about St. Agnes, whose feast day was also Monday. She was a teenage girl -- perhaps a year older than our kids -- who died rather than abandon her love of Jesus.
It was "mad fun," as our kids like to say, and a good beginning. Only the Lord knows where it all will lead.
"Almighty and Everlasting God, you choose those whom the world deems powerless to put the powerful to shame: Grant us so to cherish the memory of your youthful martyr Agnes, that we may share her pure and steadfast faith in you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen."
Let me back up a little bit and explain. We've been operating Oaks Cafe & Ministry Center now since March. It's become a regular hangout place, by God's grace, for dozens of children and teens. We've served hundreds of meals, hundreds of snacks. We've played roughly 80,000 games of Uno (maybe not quite that many), and we've shared the gospel with dozens of people.
But, we've gotten restless. Most of our regular volunteers -- including Hannah and myself -- have begun to wonder "What's next?" We have a hunger to disciple -- not just to evangelize. And the Cafe, while a haven compared to the street outside, is still a lively and sometimes chaotic place where it's difficult to disciple with depth.
It is terribly hard living in North Central Troy. Just last week, a few adults from the neighborhood talked about being able to feel the anger and the hopelessness in the air, like a heavy cloud. I find it tough to be at Oaks for the roughly 15 hours the building is open each week. But, I can leave. Most of the people who live there, especially the children, can't.
Enter the mall. We realized that, to disciple with depth and express love to our young people, we need to take them out of the neighborhood on field trips. So, we began weekly mentoring this week with two of our girls. Each week, we go somewhere for a couple of hours to have fun, and we talk about God.
This week, we went to the mall, ate cupcakes, ran up the down escalator and spent a good chunk of time in the pet store. And, we talked about the Christian witness of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., since it was his day.
As we sat in the food court -- two Euro-mutt pastors, an African American kid and a Puerto Rican kid, we talked about the fact that, not so long ago, our meeting wouldn't have been possible in public. One of the kids was shocked -- different dining spaces, different water fountains, different schools, different bathrooms? "That's just rude!" she exclaimed.
We talked about the bravery of those in the Civil Rights movement. And, we talked about the fact that, for Dr. King, his love of Jesus Christ was what compelled him to join in the fight. And, to give his life. "Greater love has no man...."
We also talked about the scandalous fact that, if he repented and asked forgiveness, even Dr. King's murderer may be singing the praises of God with us in heaven someday. Scandalous mercy and amazing grace.
Finally, we talked about St. Agnes, whose feast day was also Monday. She was a teenage girl -- perhaps a year older than our kids -- who died rather than abandon her love of Jesus.
It was "mad fun," as our kids like to say, and a good beginning. Only the Lord knows where it all will lead.
"Almighty and Everlasting God, you choose those whom the world deems powerless to put the powerful to shame: Grant us so to cherish the memory of your youthful martyr Agnes, that we may share her pure and steadfast faith in you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen."
Monday, August 27, 2012
Okay, So Miracles Happen
I'm always praying for miracles. Sometimes I forget that they actually happen. Wake-up call time.
Warning: this gets a bit crazy, so if you are allergic to spiritual warfare, you've been warned.
There is a 7-year-old boy who is a regular at the cafe. He and his cousins and his siblings make up one of the core groups that we work with. For the past few months, he has continually gotten into fights, screamed at people, broken stuff and even hit me on occasion. He and his cousin throw rocks at us, the windows, and pretty much do anything they can to express their anger at us. We have had some truly spectacular battles of will from time to time. His sister told us that he has anger management problems.
We (and God only knows how many others) started praying for him and his cousin. They started coming to the church services, but this boy would vigorously argue with everything we would say during the sermon or service. When we would pray, his eyes would roll into his head and he'd go nuts or wouldn't even be able to hear us or recognize that we were speaking.
We would say, "Jesus is God."
"No he isn't!"
"God loves you."
"No he doesn't!"
Et cetera.
Long story short, this boy doesn't have anger management problems; this boy has a demon that has anger management problems. After we identified this, and we started telling the evil spirit to shut up during church, he could hear some of what we were saying and some of it took root. Of course, then it started making him lie down in the middle of the road after we'd have an episode in the cafe, or some such stunt. He still would come to church, but for about a month, he even stopped that. We all have still been praying.
Christina had a few dramatic encounters with him where she told him that she would never hit him back and that God loved him and so did she. At one point, he sat and cried with her on the curb for about 20 minutes. After that, he would act up, but not with the same virulent hatred that he had before, and he stopped arguing with every single thing. God gave me a dream during which I and several others did deliverance ministry with him.
I went to Uganda. While in Uganda, he and his cousin were on my heart pretty much 24/7 the entire time, so I kept praying for them, along with many others. First day I came back, he saw me and ran up and gave me a huge hug and said "I missed you!" It was really sweet. Five minutes later, he hit me really hard on the back as he walked out the door. Pretty sure he had no conscious knowledge of doing it, since he didn't look back to see if I'd do anything.
Today, we had Bible study class. Christina was going through the Jesus comic book with some of the kids, but this little boy wasn't really interested, so I asked him if he wanted to do a story with me. We sat in the corner and I started to tell him the story. He looks at my Bible and says, "That word isn't in there!" He's 7. I didn't know he could read. So I read him, word for word, three stories. Then he flipped around and picked a story and read 3 stories to me, cuddled up next to me. He was really into it. I just sat there saying, "Uhhhhhh....okay."
When we finished, he picked up my Bible and said, "I'm taking this with me." I swapped him for a slightly easier to read translation of the New Testament, which he hugged and took with him, proudly telling his sister that "Pastor Hannah had given him his very own book called New Testament that he could read." And then proceeded to give me a mangling koala bear hug all the way to the door.
God is so, so, so good. He still has work to do in this little boy, but...holy freaking cow!!! YAY Jesus!!
Warning: this gets a bit crazy, so if you are allergic to spiritual warfare, you've been warned.
There is a 7-year-old boy who is a regular at the cafe. He and his cousins and his siblings make up one of the core groups that we work with. For the past few months, he has continually gotten into fights, screamed at people, broken stuff and even hit me on occasion. He and his cousin throw rocks at us, the windows, and pretty much do anything they can to express their anger at us. We have had some truly spectacular battles of will from time to time. His sister told us that he has anger management problems.
We (and God only knows how many others) started praying for him and his cousin. They started coming to the church services, but this boy would vigorously argue with everything we would say during the sermon or service. When we would pray, his eyes would roll into his head and he'd go nuts or wouldn't even be able to hear us or recognize that we were speaking.
We would say, "Jesus is God."
"No he isn't!"
"God loves you."
"No he doesn't!"
Et cetera.
Long story short, this boy doesn't have anger management problems; this boy has a demon that has anger management problems. After we identified this, and we started telling the evil spirit to shut up during church, he could hear some of what we were saying and some of it took root. Of course, then it started making him lie down in the middle of the road after we'd have an episode in the cafe, or some such stunt. He still would come to church, but for about a month, he even stopped that. We all have still been praying.
Christina had a few dramatic encounters with him where she told him that she would never hit him back and that God loved him and so did she. At one point, he sat and cried with her on the curb for about 20 minutes. After that, he would act up, but not with the same virulent hatred that he had before, and he stopped arguing with every single thing. God gave me a dream during which I and several others did deliverance ministry with him.
I went to Uganda. While in Uganda, he and his cousin were on my heart pretty much 24/7 the entire time, so I kept praying for them, along with many others. First day I came back, he saw me and ran up and gave me a huge hug and said "I missed you!" It was really sweet. Five minutes later, he hit me really hard on the back as he walked out the door. Pretty sure he had no conscious knowledge of doing it, since he didn't look back to see if I'd do anything.
Today, we had Bible study class. Christina was going through the Jesus comic book with some of the kids, but this little boy wasn't really interested, so I asked him if he wanted to do a story with me. We sat in the corner and I started to tell him the story. He looks at my Bible and says, "That word isn't in there!" He's 7. I didn't know he could read. So I read him, word for word, three stories. Then he flipped around and picked a story and read 3 stories to me, cuddled up next to me. He was really into it. I just sat there saying, "Uhhhhhh....okay."
When we finished, he picked up my Bible and said, "I'm taking this with me." I swapped him for a slightly easier to read translation of the New Testament, which he hugged and took with him, proudly telling his sister that "Pastor Hannah had given him his very own book called New Testament that he could read." And then proceeded to give me a mangling koala bear hug all the way to the door.
God is so, so, so good. He still has work to do in this little boy, but...holy freaking cow!!! YAY Jesus!!
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Foosball and Forgiveness
The kids in the Cafe lately have been trying to make me angry this week. Really. They admit it -- basically, they said the don't understand why I don't yell like other adults do.
I was feeling pretty good about being the model of Christian self-control after all this. Until yesterday. That's when I challenged Hannah to a rematch of foosball.
Hannah is good at foosball. Quite good. I'm OK, and I wanted to see if I'd gotten much better. After the score was 8-1, I realized I hadn't gotten as good as I would have liked. And I was getting frustrated because I like to win.
I stopped the game to ask for some tips on strategy and spent an inconsiderately long time asking for details on how to position my goalie and two defense guys. Meanwhile, the kids were beginning to roll their eyes because they wanted to play. When Hannah finally pointed out, "Hey, these guys are waiting to play," I got even more frustrated and said, "You guys go ahead and play" and began to walk away from the game.
Not my finest moment. Hannah called after me, "Hey, we're not done with the game." So, even more embarrassed, I came back, halfheartedly played until she scored two more goals, and scurried away.
One of our kids, sensing unease, said, "Are you and Pastor Hannah not friends anymore?" I had to smile and said, "We're still friends. I was just being immature and walking away from a game that I needed to finish."
Hannah at that point tried to apologize to me, but I was so angry with myself for not being Super Priest (see opening paragraph of this post) that I kind of muttered something and hid in the back for a few minutes to pray and get my head together. While talking to God, I knew that I needed to apologize for being childish. To Hannah. In front of all of the kids.
So, I did. Walked out front, apologized, asked for forgiveness and received it.
The whole thing, in retrospect, seems foolish. But as I've reflected on it, I believe God uses things exactly like this.
The kids do need adults who won't yell at them. Sometimes, by God's grace, I can be that.
What they need more desperately is adults who screw up, admit their fault, and ask to be forgiven. They need to see grace practiced. That's actually harder for me.
Hopefully, with God's help, I'll grow more and more into being that kind of priest.
I was feeling pretty good about being the model of Christian self-control after all this. Until yesterday. That's when I challenged Hannah to a rematch of foosball.
Hannah is good at foosball. Quite good. I'm OK, and I wanted to see if I'd gotten much better. After the score was 8-1, I realized I hadn't gotten as good as I would have liked. And I was getting frustrated because I like to win.
I stopped the game to ask for some tips on strategy and spent an inconsiderately long time asking for details on how to position my goalie and two defense guys. Meanwhile, the kids were beginning to roll their eyes because they wanted to play. When Hannah finally pointed out, "Hey, these guys are waiting to play," I got even more frustrated and said, "You guys go ahead and play" and began to walk away from the game.
Not my finest moment. Hannah called after me, "Hey, we're not done with the game." So, even more embarrassed, I came back, halfheartedly played until she scored two more goals, and scurried away.
One of our kids, sensing unease, said, "Are you and Pastor Hannah not friends anymore?" I had to smile and said, "We're still friends. I was just being immature and walking away from a game that I needed to finish."
Hannah at that point tried to apologize to me, but I was so angry with myself for not being Super Priest (see opening paragraph of this post) that I kind of muttered something and hid in the back for a few minutes to pray and get my head together. While talking to God, I knew that I needed to apologize for being childish. To Hannah. In front of all of the kids.
So, I did. Walked out front, apologized, asked for forgiveness and received it.
The whole thing, in retrospect, seems foolish. But as I've reflected on it, I believe God uses things exactly like this.
The kids do need adults who won't yell at them. Sometimes, by God's grace, I can be that.
What they need more desperately is adults who screw up, admit their fault, and ask to be forgiven. They need to see grace practiced. That's actually harder for me.
Hopefully, with God's help, I'll grow more and more into being that kind of priest.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Beginning Transformations
Snapshot of things God is doing.
When we first started hanging out in the park and teaching Bible stories, some kids would come over to play music or hear the story. But there was one kid (the playground bully) who was really not into us being there. He would circle around and throw things (sometimes rocks) at the kids who were joining us. He would mock the older ones, saying "What are you doing with them? That's baby stuff!" and try to shame them into going and playing basketball with him instead.
Thing is, this kid was so lonely. We could see it - he was the bully, but he was so miserable. There were times when we'd go by the playground and he'd just be sitting there by himself with his basketball, watching other kids play together.
We kept coming back to the park every week, and he would come over to the cookouts to get a hot dog or something. He would join the games we started (mostly with the intention of destroying them - somewhat successfully - we had to sic the deacon cop on him once). We finally managed to make him talk to us long enough to get his name. After which, he ignored us if we used it, so it didn't much matter. But it did mean that we could pray for him by name. Every week we would teach Bible stories, and he would circle around the tables, but he stopped trying to interfere - he would just circle at a distance, hoping someone would ditch us and play with him.
Well, we kept praying for him and saying hi and trying to get him to join us for about 6 months. Then we opened the cafe. We were still going out to the playground, so we'd see him, and he continued to do his circling/ignoring thing.
Six weeks after we opened the cafe, he came in with some of his friends and started bullying around the cafe. We made him stop, but it was pretty obvious that he wanted to play inside, but didn't know how to play foosball (the game of choice in the cafe). I offered to give him lessons a few times - succeeded once. The other kids started mocking him for his ineptitude, but he started learning and isn't half bad now.
We have a set-up where if kid wants something to eat and can't pay for it, they can do a cleaning job for it. One day, this kid decided he'd try that out. So he's in the kitchen washing dishes with us and I discovered that he is a really sweet, conscientious kid. I started thinking to myself, "If this boy doesn't watch it, I'm gonna start actually liking him a lot."
Then he started defending the cafe rules. Rather the opposite of continually trying to break them. Interesting.
Granted, he's still a sneaky bully a lot of the time. He still pushes boundaries. But somewhere in the past month, he's discovered that we actually do care about him - he counts on that.
Yesterday, I was teaching a crocheting class. He came over and asked to learn. I started to show him how, but he got frustrated and asked me just to make him a bracelet. So I did, and he wandered off. Later, he came back and asked to learn again. Again got frustrated, and asked me to make him a chain and put a cross on it. I nearly keeled over with surprise, because we've made it clear that you only get a cross if you want to learn about Jesus.
I started to make him a chain, and as I'm doing so, he asked, "Why do some people talk about Jesus all the time and not God?" Before I could say anything, he said, "I guess it's because he died and rose from the dead and stuff, huh?" Completely blown away, I just answered, "Yeah. I mean, when you think about it, it's pretty cool, right?" "Yeah." (Guess he'd been listening during all of his circling)
Christina came by with the cross and some cord. He saw the cord, looked at the cross I was wearing around my neck, pointed to it and said, "Can you make me one exactly like that?" I did, and as I handed it to him, I said, "Do you know why people wear these?"
"No."
"People wear these to remind them that Jesus died for them. And to remind you that he loves you that much."
"Hmm." Then he put it on, shuffled his feet and walked away.
When we first started hanging out in the park and teaching Bible stories, some kids would come over to play music or hear the story. But there was one kid (the playground bully) who was really not into us being there. He would circle around and throw things (sometimes rocks) at the kids who were joining us. He would mock the older ones, saying "What are you doing with them? That's baby stuff!" and try to shame them into going and playing basketball with him instead.
Thing is, this kid was so lonely. We could see it - he was the bully, but he was so miserable. There were times when we'd go by the playground and he'd just be sitting there by himself with his basketball, watching other kids play together.
We kept coming back to the park every week, and he would come over to the cookouts to get a hot dog or something. He would join the games we started (mostly with the intention of destroying them - somewhat successfully - we had to sic the deacon cop on him once). We finally managed to make him talk to us long enough to get his name. After which, he ignored us if we used it, so it didn't much matter. But it did mean that we could pray for him by name. Every week we would teach Bible stories, and he would circle around the tables, but he stopped trying to interfere - he would just circle at a distance, hoping someone would ditch us and play with him.
Well, we kept praying for him and saying hi and trying to get him to join us for about 6 months. Then we opened the cafe. We were still going out to the playground, so we'd see him, and he continued to do his circling/ignoring thing.
Six weeks after we opened the cafe, he came in with some of his friends and started bullying around the cafe. We made him stop, but it was pretty obvious that he wanted to play inside, but didn't know how to play foosball (the game of choice in the cafe). I offered to give him lessons a few times - succeeded once. The other kids started mocking him for his ineptitude, but he started learning and isn't half bad now.
We have a set-up where if kid wants something to eat and can't pay for it, they can do a cleaning job for it. One day, this kid decided he'd try that out. So he's in the kitchen washing dishes with us and I discovered that he is a really sweet, conscientious kid. I started thinking to myself, "If this boy doesn't watch it, I'm gonna start actually liking him a lot."
Then he started defending the cafe rules. Rather the opposite of continually trying to break them. Interesting.
Granted, he's still a sneaky bully a lot of the time. He still pushes boundaries. But somewhere in the past month, he's discovered that we actually do care about him - he counts on that.
Yesterday, I was teaching a crocheting class. He came over and asked to learn. I started to show him how, but he got frustrated and asked me just to make him a bracelet. So I did, and he wandered off. Later, he came back and asked to learn again. Again got frustrated, and asked me to make him a chain and put a cross on it. I nearly keeled over with surprise, because we've made it clear that you only get a cross if you want to learn about Jesus.
I started to make him a chain, and as I'm doing so, he asked, "Why do some people talk about Jesus all the time and not God?" Before I could say anything, he said, "I guess it's because he died and rose from the dead and stuff, huh?" Completely blown away, I just answered, "Yeah. I mean, when you think about it, it's pretty cool, right?" "Yeah." (Guess he'd been listening during all of his circling)
Christina came by with the cross and some cord. He saw the cord, looked at the cross I was wearing around my neck, pointed to it and said, "Can you make me one exactly like that?" I did, and as I handed it to him, I said, "Do you know why people wear these?"
"No."
"People wear these to remind them that Jesus died for them. And to remind you that he loves you that much."
"Hmm." Then he put it on, shuffled his feet and walked away.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)