I prayed for years for a deeper throbbing of the Gospel in my spirit, in my mind and heart. I prayed for community, for people to walk with and work with. I prayed for people to learn from. People wiser than I in faithfulness to and application of the Truth, of the Word.
And as God developed new passions in my heart, I prayed for those to be answered and used and channeled for His glory.
Refugees and immigrants. Urban settings. Muslim people. People with disabilities. Children. People living on the streets, whether full-time or just all day. The poor -- not only economically poor, but poor in family, in love, attention, and in truth.
This story stars a Father who knows the perfect moment to give His daughter good gifts. Who knows just the rhythm in which to unveil them, just the order, just the way.
I said 'help, I can't.' and He gave me school in a way I could dive into, in a subject I could love, in a form I could afford.
I said 'brokenness,' and He gave me work with the physically and mentally 'broken.' But only after He had broken me, too.
And there He showed me the beauty of the very small and simple. Of touching hands, of washing hair. And there He showed me that it is the purity of the offering, not the appearance of the offering, where its beauty, where its value, lies.
I said 'community,' and He gave me friends over the years and the miles,
and then He gave me an organization that echoed that cry. I went to Rio.
He gave me people to serve, and work in which to thrive. He gave me a tongue that spoke a language it had not known, and a heart full of prayer and of love. He gave me grace, so much grace. He listened to my cries and complaints and quibblings and questions for days upon days upon years upon years. He sent me people who loved me. He gave me a family full of sweet patience and steady nourishment. He sent me people who listened, and people to love. And people to laugh with.
"Be at rest once more, O my soul,
for the LORD has been good to you.
For you, O LORD, have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears,
my feet from stumbling,
that I may walk before the LORD in the land of the living. ...
How can I repay the Lord for all His goodness to me?" Psalm 116:7-9, 11.
He gave me a city. He gave me a block. He gave me a Body.
And I didn't see it. For ten months I walked in darkness, every day. I woke early, and walked, frozen, frustrated and fearful, to a narrow room without windows to feel futile and exhausted and beaten, nine hours every day. And then walked home and cried, and microwaved something,
... and started again. I read Spurgeon. Hoped against hope.
How hard it all seemed. Not just difficult, but hard. Closed, like the heavy metal door of a bank safe. Peoples' lives, peoples' hearts. Possibility. Was this wisdom? Was this life? Had I been on vacation all the years that had come before? Been a child?
S l o w l y , I started to see that the teaching I sat under was something special. I was hearing Christ, again and again. I was seeing Him treasured above all things. I was seeing the Gospel valued, loved as solid food, the solid food, not milk. When we sang, we sang to Him. And we reveled in what He has done. .......
And finally, came spring. And I cried with the first leaf.
Things were still hard. But there were seedlings, stirring under the soil of my soul.
"Bring joy to your servant,
for to you, O Lord,
I lift up my soul.
You are forgiving and good, O Lord,
abounding in love to all who call to you.
Hear my prayer, O LORD;
listen to my cry for mercy" Psalm 86:4-6.
Spring was stirring in the world. And I saw it in: New Jersey. Can you imagine? Keswick Campground. I saw people loving people. I saw Acts 2 being studied and pursued. I saw lives so intertwined by years of loving Christ together. Generations blessing other generations. And I knew, if it was only to see this, to know it existed, it would have been worth the year of fight. The year of fear.
"Give me a sign of your goodness,that my enemies may see it and be put to shame,
for you, O LORD, have helped me and comforted me" Psalm 86:17.
I saw a church. Without a building. With a Lord. With a center. And I loved it. I remember looking into the woods and wondering,
would I go from here alone, back onto my own road, away,
or would I get to stay, walking with these people...
And then He took me far away.
He said it was to practic
e being, walking, with Him. I couldn't reject that. And so I went. Fighting opposition all the way. Fighting lies from the master liar. So much fear. I put my love for my new home on the altar. My new sisters. The teaching I wanted to guide and steady me. On the altar. Moving forward.My plane landed in Rio, and I felt like I'd gone back in time. Like I had opened up a memory book long closed, and stepped inside. But God had newness for me there.
He'd brought me broken, and I had to share that. Had to disappoint people. Share the truth with them, because the truth hadn't changed. "I'm open," I said. "But I need to tell you that I've struggled. That I'm called elsewhere, and don't know when." And there was grace. And there were signs. And wonders--it was all right. The one who died for me was with me. Should I have been surprised? Parakletos. You came into the court with me, arm on my shoulders. You cared for me when I was weak and sickly, ladling broth into my mouth. No self-by-bootstraps here. You came.
I loved my life. I loved those women and children. More than words could ever say. I loved Jucelia, who wears a flower and listens closely--and stabs people in rage when she is drunk, bedeviled. And I loved Bruce, whose twisted leg won't stop him from doing swift-chop capoeira in the streets. Whose smile lights up the world.
I was alone. You met me. Hundreds of bus rides.
And you gave friendship.
I was so sad. And You mourned with me. You still do. The train tracks, clustered crack addicts crowded over trash dump flames. Nearly toothless twentysomethings with swollen bellies and farmed-out children, sprawled on sidewalks, boldly begging, and surprised by conversation.
You mourned with me. You still do.
"Confuse the wicked, O Lord, confound their speech,
for I see violence and strife in the city.
Day and night they prowl about on its walls; malice and abuse are within it.
Destructive forces are at work in the city;
threats and lies never leave its streets" Psalm 55:9-11.
What greater joy is there, what greater life, than speaking truth and showing love to people lost? What higher honor than to sit down on a dirty blanket, to be welcomed into someone's place, and say "Repent. It's free. Redemption's near. And has been purchased, by blood not yours. Come near. Come near." What greater pain than holding a child raised in sin and squalor, singing, praying, whispering,
and letting go?
... I didn't have to make a choice, make a decision, to stay or go. I can't explain it. But it was made. I didn't have to weigh, evaluate. I knew. I'm going home. I'm going back, and settling. It's not to do with value or with need. It is a story, that You're writing, and I'll follow, where You've put the answered prayer.
And home you took me. Just last week. Could there have been a greater overflow
of perfect goodness? Could there? How can I tell you
what the Lord has done for me? ? ??
"How great is your goodness, which you have stored up for those who fear you, which you bestow in the sight of men on those who take refuge in you" Psalm 31:19.
I prayed, you see, don't take these opportunities from me. Don't take these open lives, don't take these eyes, these hearts. Put roads into homes and lives, oh Lord, in my new home.
And do you know what my God did? Last week, I sat on a sidewalk beside a busy basketball court and heard a man, a brother, rap, freestyle, my heart. Your heart, Lord. Your call to those 'too busy' to stop and listen. He wasn't phased. Your Word declares that many will not hear. I saw him keep declaring. I saw some stop and listen. I ached for the similarity to the Rio streets. And sat to talk to littler ones,girl, boy, I'd never met. Before I knew what'd happened, I was answering their questions about You, Lord. "Is it true that God is coming back?" And standing at their apartment doors, meeting, or just waiting for, parents who passed them over to us, to complete strangers, for the evening. And I watched these children flourish in our yard, among Your people. I held them as they watched the Gospel acted out, and taught them a Jesus song. I saw them come alive. And knew
You'd answered Your daughter's prayers.
I have a home. I have a church to call these children to. I have a family in Christ to ask for help, to watch in action. I have a Body to be just one small but treasured part of.
I have teachers and examples who point me back, over and over, to Your cross, Your feet, Your Word.
I have sisters to laugh with and to seek with and to pray with and to learn from.
I have a neighborhood full of people. Full of people. Refugees who come and sing in the backyard and share their lives. Lost ones whose homes You've opened up through wonders to us.
The suffering's like a skin upon the ground. My soul, don't ever doubt that He is Lord of night and morning. However long the night, how could you ever doubt again His mercy, love and purpose. ??
"I will exalt you, my God the King; I will praise your name for ever and ever. Every day I will praise you and extol your name for ever and ever. Great is the LORD and most worthy of praise; his greatness no one can fathom" Psalm 145:1-3.
Oh, His abundant goodness! Did you know,
He loves you this much, too?
Did you know
He did not spare His son?
What else
would He withhold?
How can I tell you what the Lord has done for me? I could shout it from the rooftops. I could sing it from the stage. I could call it on the corners. .... I will praise the Lord at all times. He has been so good to me.
