I once spent Halloween night trick-or-treating in one of the biggest Minnesota blizzards of my lifetime. Having grown up accustomed to chilly Halloween nights, costumes hidden under layers of cold-weather gear, I never thought that I would spend a Halloween swatting mosquitoes.
I am writing this post from a hotel room in Houma, Louisiana, about 45 minutes southwest of New Orleans. My clothes and hair are still heavy with the smell of bonfire smoke, my stomach full of hot dogs roasted and marshmallows toasted over the fire. The people I met tonight - many of whom were instrumental in housing, feeding, and caring for this summer's YouthWorks staff and participants - were full of stories and laughter. There are a few precious communities where YouthWorks is so well-loved that anyone related to the organization is instantly welcomed as family. This is one of those places.
I spent a good bit of time tonight talking to a man named Javier. Javier is originally from Venezuela, and now works in banking in Miami. He is here visiting his daughter and her new husband. How strange and wonderful to find myself sitting under the Southern Louisiana moon, speaking Spanish to a Venezuelan, laughing together as a pirate, a cat, and Spiderman climb a flowering tree in the front yard.
New places. New stories. New sights and new adventures. New people - who somehow become old and familiar by the end of the evening. What a gift it is to be a part of this.
This is one of those nights that makes me love my job.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Part of the village
Today, I had the great privilege of holding five-day-old Katie, my friends Chris and Angela's baby, for the first time. She is a beautiful, healthy baby girl (seriously folks, even objectively she is beautiful). It was a joy to meet her, and not just because she is so darn cute. We have been praying for this little one since she was just a twinkle in her parents' eyes. We rejoiced when Angela found out she was pregnant. We continued praying when the baby was nothing more than a "little lizard" in Angela's womb. We cheered and got busy buying pink things when they learned it would be a girl, and were calling her by name long before she made her first appearance.
Katie was born just six days before my birthday, so I find myself looking at Chris and Angela and thinking of what my own parents were doing 25 years ago - changing, feeding, cooing, their lives re-focused overnight.
I think also of others who were involved in my young life in various ways - praying, supporting, shopping, visiting. I am thankful for them. I am thankful, too, to be entering the time in my life when I will be able to be a part of the village that loves and cares and cheers for a new generation of little ones.
109 little words
* Dear readers - please take time to read the comments on this post.
Last weekend, I flew up to Milwaukee for my cousin Ryan's wedding. It was the first family wedding we'd had in years, and the first one I'd been to in even longer, so it was an exciting occasion.
Time spent with my family inevitably brings up a great deal of introspection. Time spent with my family at a wedding increases the amount of introspection and deep thinking ten-fold.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails... I Corinthians 13:4-8
This ever-popular passage was one that Ryan and Becky chose to have read as they sat before the altar. I listened to the words with a heavy heart, especially as I heard "Love never fails". Here I sat, surrounded by the products of failed love. Everyone I knew at the wedding was either a child or at least a grandchild of divorce. Clearly, love had failed in many cases here. My parents, my grandparents, some of my aunts and uncles had at one time stood at an altar much like this one. Some of them may have heard these same words from Paul read by a friend or family member. They spoke the same vows that Ryan and Becky would - they promised to love. Yet somewhere along the line, promises were broken, and it would seem that love had indeed failed.
My internal monologue as the ceremony progressed went something like this:
Love never fails? But it does! Look around! Clearly, love fails. I mean, obviously, sometimes it doesn't - this family is certainly a testament to that as well - but sometimes love fails. How can Paul say never? But if love can fail, what good is it? And what about the fact that God is love? God can never fail. Hence, love can never fail... but then it does. This doesn't make sense!
My mind continued to race, shaken, troubled. If love could fail... I was too scared to finish that thought.
Ok, for a moment, let's just believe that Paul is right: love never fails. Then how do we explain the pain in my family, the wounds of divorce, the scars of broken relationships?
Perhaps we fail to love.
Maybe we, in our frail humanity, mess up this whole "love" thing, thus messing up relationships that are supposed to be rooted, supported, sustained by love.
The words "I love you" are probably three of the most complex words in the English language. At times, I think I've used them too sparingly. There have also been occasions when I've used them too liberally. More often than I'd like to admit, I'm used them inaccurately - perhaps even dishonestly. I should have said "I want to love you," or maybe "I'm trying to love you," or even "You're making me want to rip my hair out right now" (though in that instance I suppose the best bet would have been to say nothing at all).
When I say "I love you," I should be saying.
I am patient with you
I am kind to you
I do not envy what you have, nor do I envy others for their relationships with you
I am not proud or boastful
I am not easily angered with you
I've let go of anything you've ever done to hurt me
I do not delight in evil or hurtful things, but will rejoice when truth is spoken - even hard words.
I strive to protect our relationship
I trust you, and you can trust me
I hope for the best for you
I am here and will continue to be here, no matter what comes
I won't mess this up.
After all of that, I may never say "I love you" again, because I don't know of anyone in my life - even the people I care about the most - to whom I could truthfully say all of those things, or for whom they would be true all of the time. I certainly aspire to this kind of love, and wonder where it can be found. Where can it be found? Only in God, for God is love. God is the one who enables us to love and shows us how it's done, and he is the one who will strengthen us to love even when our flesh and heart fail to do so. He is also the one who redeems our failures, and offers the grace needed to reconcile us to himself and each other when we do fail to love.
I hope the people I love know how much I love them, whether or not I say it. I hope that my actions never make me into a liar when I do say "I love you". I hope that love might triumph, even if I fail. I pray that, as 1 John 4:16 says, I would abide in love, and in so doing abide in God, so that he may abide in me.
Last weekend, I flew up to Milwaukee for my cousin Ryan's wedding. It was the first family wedding we'd had in years, and the first one I'd been to in even longer, so it was an exciting occasion.
Time spent with my family inevitably brings up a great deal of introspection. Time spent with my family at a wedding increases the amount of introspection and deep thinking ten-fold.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails... I Corinthians 13:4-8
This ever-popular passage was one that Ryan and Becky chose to have read as they sat before the altar. I listened to the words with a heavy heart, especially as I heard "Love never fails". Here I sat, surrounded by the products of failed love. Everyone I knew at the wedding was either a child or at least a grandchild of divorce. Clearly, love had failed in many cases here. My parents, my grandparents, some of my aunts and uncles had at one time stood at an altar much like this one. Some of them may have heard these same words from Paul read by a friend or family member. They spoke the same vows that Ryan and Becky would - they promised to love. Yet somewhere along the line, promises were broken, and it would seem that love had indeed failed.
My internal monologue as the ceremony progressed went something like this:
Love never fails? But it does! Look around! Clearly, love fails. I mean, obviously, sometimes it doesn't - this family is certainly a testament to that as well - but sometimes love fails. How can Paul say never? But if love can fail, what good is it? And what about the fact that God is love? God can never fail. Hence, love can never fail... but then it does. This doesn't make sense!
My mind continued to race, shaken, troubled. If love could fail... I was too scared to finish that thought.
Ok, for a moment, let's just believe that Paul is right: love never fails. Then how do we explain the pain in my family, the wounds of divorce, the scars of broken relationships?
Perhaps we fail to love.
Maybe we, in our frail humanity, mess up this whole "love" thing, thus messing up relationships that are supposed to be rooted, supported, sustained by love.
The words "I love you" are probably three of the most complex words in the English language. At times, I think I've used them too sparingly. There have also been occasions when I've used them too liberally. More often than I'd like to admit, I'm used them inaccurately - perhaps even dishonestly. I should have said "I want to love you," or maybe "I'm trying to love you," or even "You're making me want to rip my hair out right now" (though in that instance I suppose the best bet would have been to say nothing at all).
When I say "I love you," I should be saying.
I am patient with you
I am kind to you
I do not envy what you have, nor do I envy others for their relationships with you
I am not proud or boastful
I am not easily angered with you
I've let go of anything you've ever done to hurt me
I do not delight in evil or hurtful things, but will rejoice when truth is spoken - even hard words.
I strive to protect our relationship
I trust you, and you can trust me
I hope for the best for you
I am here and will continue to be here, no matter what comes
I won't mess this up.
After all of that, I may never say "I love you" again, because I don't know of anyone in my life - even the people I care about the most - to whom I could truthfully say all of those things, or for whom they would be true all of the time. I certainly aspire to this kind of love, and wonder where it can be found. Where can it be found? Only in God, for God is love. God is the one who enables us to love and shows us how it's done, and he is the one who will strengthen us to love even when our flesh and heart fail to do so. He is also the one who redeems our failures, and offers the grace needed to reconcile us to himself and each other when we do fail to love.
I hope the people I love know how much I love them, whether or not I say it. I hope that my actions never make me into a liar when I do say "I love you". I hope that love might triumph, even if I fail. I pray that, as 1 John 4:16 says, I would abide in love, and in so doing abide in God, so that he may abide in me.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
The real pot of gold
I post this on a beautiful, clear day here in Birmingham; I haven't seen so much as a raincloud in days. While days like this certainly stir up awe and thanksgiving for the One who created them, I still feel compelled to remember the work He does - and the light he shines - on the darker days.
I’ve always appreciated rainbows, but I think my true fascination with them really began on my sixteenth birthday. As we were driving to dinner, a rainbow shone in the sky ahead of us. I laughed to myself, thinking that this must be God’s birthday gift to me. That night, the rainbow represented joy.
On my eighteenth birthday, I went to a funeral. A guy in my youth group, who was just one year older than me, had collapsed on the basketball court and died. As a vanload of us drove from the funeral to a youth group retreat at camp, I saw a fragment of a rainbow in the sky. That afternoon, the rainbow gave me hope.
Since then, there have been more rainbows in the skies above my head than I could count. No matter what is going on or where I am, the rainbows always speak to me somehow. Sometimes, they simply whisper of God’s creativity. Some arcs boast of his power and majesty. Others tell me of his provision. Some just remind me that He is present, working, and beautiful.
My captivation with rainbows has made me especially observant of the circumstances – the rain, the light, the clouds - that usually create them, and I’ve been known to hunt them down. I journaled about one such chase – and its end – last August:
There was a beautiful sunshower the other night, and I hurried back and forth between the front and back doors, anxiously awaiting the rainbow that I knew would come. Finally, colors started to spring to life outside the front door. I watched as they became more vibrant, and I could see an arch forming. I ran to the back door to look for the other end of it; it was there, but it was faint. Back to the front door: I pushed the screen door open and held it, keeping most of myself inside and dry while my left arm soaked in a cold, light shower. If anyone saw me, I’m sure they would have laughed – I had a huge smile on my face that just refused to be bottled up as I marveled at this glorious artwork in the sky. I pondered the wonder of a God who would make something like a rainbow. The first word that came to mind was SPLENDOR. Absolute splendor. A rainstorm would be enough. The land’s thirst would be quenched and the dirt of every day would be washed away. But our God would not stop at “enough” – he would give more. He would take this chance to bless us with a moment of fleeting beauty, a demonstration of his talent and power and majesty. I praised God for this gift, and I couldn’t help but laugh when I realized that a second rainbow was forming outside of the first. What a good and generous God, what a clear demonstration of the fact that His glory and my joy and so closely intertwined. That rainbow existed for God to showcase his own glory, and it produced in me an uncontainable joy that overflowed in praise and thanksgiving to him.
Indeed, the heavens declare the glory of the Lord, especially when they are adorned with a rainbow. As much as I think I know where and when to look for that glory, rainbows have been known to sneak up on me. Recently, I was on my way to a friend’s house, lost in my own thoughts. Overwhelmed by the questions and emotions that I was wrestling with, I was in tears as I drove the familiar streets. The sky was overcast, and though the rain had mostly passed and there weren’t many sunbeams breaking through. Nonetheless, all of a sudden I turned a corner and saw a breathtaking rainbow in the sky. The tears came even harder; this rainbow had completely arrested me, and if I could have gotten down on my knees in the driver’s seat I would have. There I sat, consumed with worry and fear, without a fleeting consideration that God might be at work right in front of me – and then, there he was, reminding me of his grace, his goodness, his presence.
Rainbows point me to God in a way that few other things do. They remind me – in many different ways – that HE is my treasure, the one whose value surpasses gold and silver, the one who can bring beauty out of a storm, the one who will always provide, the one who is most glorified when I find joy and contentment in celebrating him.
I’ve always appreciated rainbows, but I think my true fascination with them really began on my sixteenth birthday. As we were driving to dinner, a rainbow shone in the sky ahead of us. I laughed to myself, thinking that this must be God’s birthday gift to me. That night, the rainbow represented joy.
On my eighteenth birthday, I went to a funeral. A guy in my youth group, who was just one year older than me, had collapsed on the basketball court and died. As a vanload of us drove from the funeral to a youth group retreat at camp, I saw a fragment of a rainbow in the sky. That afternoon, the rainbow gave me hope.
Since then, there have been more rainbows in the skies above my head than I could count. No matter what is going on or where I am, the rainbows always speak to me somehow. Sometimes, they simply whisper of God’s creativity. Some arcs boast of his power and majesty. Others tell me of his provision. Some just remind me that He is present, working, and beautiful.
My captivation with rainbows has made me especially observant of the circumstances – the rain, the light, the clouds - that usually create them, and I’ve been known to hunt them down. I journaled about one such chase – and its end – last August:
There was a beautiful sunshower the other night, and I hurried back and forth between the front and back doors, anxiously awaiting the rainbow that I knew would come. Finally, colors started to spring to life outside the front door. I watched as they became more vibrant, and I could see an arch forming. I ran to the back door to look for the other end of it; it was there, but it was faint. Back to the front door: I pushed the screen door open and held it, keeping most of myself inside and dry while my left arm soaked in a cold, light shower. If anyone saw me, I’m sure they would have laughed – I had a huge smile on my face that just refused to be bottled up as I marveled at this glorious artwork in the sky. I pondered the wonder of a God who would make something like a rainbow. The first word that came to mind was SPLENDOR. Absolute splendor. A rainstorm would be enough. The land’s thirst would be quenched and the dirt of every day would be washed away. But our God would not stop at “enough” – he would give more. He would take this chance to bless us with a moment of fleeting beauty, a demonstration of his talent and power and majesty. I praised God for this gift, and I couldn’t help but laugh when I realized that a second rainbow was forming outside of the first. What a good and generous God, what a clear demonstration of the fact that His glory and my joy and so closely intertwined. That rainbow existed for God to showcase his own glory, and it produced in me an uncontainable joy that overflowed in praise and thanksgiving to him.
Indeed, the heavens declare the glory of the Lord, especially when they are adorned with a rainbow. As much as I think I know where and when to look for that glory, rainbows have been known to sneak up on me. Recently, I was on my way to a friend’s house, lost in my own thoughts. Overwhelmed by the questions and emotions that I was wrestling with, I was in tears as I drove the familiar streets. The sky was overcast, and though the rain had mostly passed and there weren’t many sunbeams breaking through. Nonetheless, all of a sudden I turned a corner and saw a breathtaking rainbow in the sky. The tears came even harder; this rainbow had completely arrested me, and if I could have gotten down on my knees in the driver’s seat I would have. There I sat, consumed with worry and fear, without a fleeting consideration that God might be at work right in front of me – and then, there he was, reminding me of his grace, his goodness, his presence.
Rainbows point me to God in a way that few other things do. They remind me – in many different ways – that HE is my treasure, the one whose value surpasses gold and silver, the one who can bring beauty out of a storm, the one who will always provide, the one who is most glorified when I find joy and contentment in celebrating him.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Praying beyond the surface
Several of my friends and co-workers just ran the Twin Cities Marathon (big congratulations go out to Mayme, Benj, Erica, Mara, Judy, Hannah, Katie, and Tim!). I admire these folks for their commitment to the marathon training process -- more than four months of long, hard running. I tried to remember to pray for them frequently during their training, especially on the long run days. I prayed especially hard on the morning of their marathon. I prayed for knees and ankles and muscles. I prayed for mental stamina. I prayed for joyful spirits and moments of inspiration. But I failed to pray for that which is most important -- the heart. If the heart fails, as it unfortunately did for one man on the race course, the strongest legs and sharpest mind can not keep running.
It is so easy to pray for things on the surface; the external, the obvious. When my cousin was in Iraq with the Marines, it was quick and simple to pray for his safety, and I did that often. While I was sharing that prayer request one day in the middle of his tenure, a wise friend pointed out that I ought to be going deeper in my prayers for my cousin. Don't just pray for safety; rather, pray that God's will would be done, and ask God to be working in his heart and mind. I had been failing to pray for that which is most important -- his heart, and God's work in it. Physical safety is worth nothing if the heart does not rest safely in God's hands.
So, as you and those you love are running the race, what are you praying for?
It is so easy to pray for things on the surface; the external, the obvious. When my cousin was in Iraq with the Marines, it was quick and simple to pray for his safety, and I did that often. While I was sharing that prayer request one day in the middle of his tenure, a wise friend pointed out that I ought to be going deeper in my prayers for my cousin. Don't just pray for safety; rather, pray that God's will would be done, and ask God to be working in his heart and mind. I had been failing to pray for that which is most important -- his heart, and God's work in it. Physical safety is worth nothing if the heart does not rest safely in God's hands.
So, as you and those you love are running the race, what are you praying for?
Sunday, October 01, 2006
When I survey the wondrous cross
We sang the contemporary version of this song, "The Wonderful Cross", in church today (quite a feat for our "Untrained Country Choir"), and as I reflected on the lyrics, I was reminded that there's more to the song than what Chris Tomlin and Michael W. Smith are singing these days. I dug up the original Isaac Watts lyrics for his song, "When I survey the wondrous cross," and as usual find them absolutely arresting.
Read them well. Better yet, sing them, you know the tune.
When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss
And pour contempt on all my pride.
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to his blood.
See from his head, his hands, his feet
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
His dying crimson, like a robe,
Spreads o'er is body on the tree;
Then I am dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divien,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.
-Isaac Watts, 1707
Read them well. Better yet, sing them, you know the tune.
When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss
And pour contempt on all my pride.
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to his blood.
See from his head, his hands, his feet
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
His dying crimson, like a robe,
Spreads o'er is body on the tree;
Then I am dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divien,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.
-Isaac Watts, 1707
Be transformed
I’ve been working on memorizing Scripture lately, and let me say that it’s not as easy as it was when I was little. I still remember the sense of accomplishment I had when I memorized Psalm 23, and I’ve remembered it ever since that day. Church activities, summer camp, and the likes of Psalty and G.T. gave me a solid foundation in Scripture, but I don’t think I’ve really tried to memorize anything – other than SAT vocabulary definitions and Spanish verb conjugations – since sixth grade.
Now, I am hard-pressed to commit just a verse or two to memory, and there are no sticker charts or silly prizes at Sunday School to spur me on. Nevertheless, I’m working on it, and realizing the many benefits of having the Word of God in my head and my heart. One of these benefits is simply having God’s words on my mind throughout the day. As I recite them to myself over and over, I turn them around in my head and have a chance to really think about what they mean, in a way that’s different than when I’m just reading the Bible.
Conform yourselves no longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind…
This was one of the first passages I memorized. This is a familiar verse to me, but I’ve looked at it in a new light lately. I used to think of this transformation as a one-time event: ask Jesus into your heart, and BOOM!, like some great magic trick, you are transformed. But as I come to a deeper understanding of God, His grace, and our humanity, I realize that this transformation has to come on a daily basis. Each morning, I wake up a sinner, wanting to conform to the pattern of this world. Each day, I am desperately dependent on the transformation that would allow me to get out of my bed and step onto the narrow road.
Therefore I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to present your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God. This is your spiritual act of worship. Conform yourselves no longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind; then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is, his good, pleasing, and perfect will. Romans 12:1-2
Lord, bring transformation. Renew my mind through the understanding of your word.
Now, I am hard-pressed to commit just a verse or two to memory, and there are no sticker charts or silly prizes at Sunday School to spur me on. Nevertheless, I’m working on it, and realizing the many benefits of having the Word of God in my head and my heart. One of these benefits is simply having God’s words on my mind throughout the day. As I recite them to myself over and over, I turn them around in my head and have a chance to really think about what they mean, in a way that’s different than when I’m just reading the Bible.
Conform yourselves no longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind…
This was one of the first passages I memorized. This is a familiar verse to me, but I’ve looked at it in a new light lately. I used to think of this transformation as a one-time event: ask Jesus into your heart, and BOOM!, like some great magic trick, you are transformed. But as I come to a deeper understanding of God, His grace, and our humanity, I realize that this transformation has to come on a daily basis. Each morning, I wake up a sinner, wanting to conform to the pattern of this world. Each day, I am desperately dependent on the transformation that would allow me to get out of my bed and step onto the narrow road.
Therefore I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to present your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God. This is your spiritual act of worship. Conform yourselves no longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind; then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is, his good, pleasing, and perfect will. Romans 12:1-2
Lord, bring transformation. Renew my mind through the understanding of your word.
Dreams come true
Before my summer began, Coahoma was the site in my area about which I knew the least. I hadn’t spent much time there, and while I knew that YouthWorks had a wonderful history there and long-standing relationships, I didn’t feel personally connected. How surprising, then, to look back and realize the impact that site had on me. My time in Coahoma inspired more writing than any of my other sites this summer. The adult leaders I got to know during my time there remain dear to me, and several of them will go down in history amongst my all-time favorite adult leaders. And as I think about the sites under my care this year, Coahoma is the one that haunts me, that makes me think and question and wonder and feel and pray the most. I still don’t have close friends there. It still doesn’t feel like home in the way some of my other communities do. But it’s gotten under my skin like no other place has – and I know I’m not alone in saying that. The following is something I sent out to the full-time staff at YouthWorks a few days ago, after making several post-trip follow-up calls to adult leaders who had come to Coahoma this summer.
I remember Eric talking about the story of the Good Samaritan earlier this year. He pointed out that part of the good in what the Samaritan did was continuing to walk alongside the man who was hurt – bringing him to the inn, caring for him there, providing for continued care, and promising to follow-up later. We talked about this as something we hoped our participants would be able to do, that they might somehow continue to walk beside our communities, whether directly or indirectly. A couple of my post-trip calls have shown me that that is happening, at least for one community.
Yesterday I spoke with Ryan, a trip leader from Missouri who brought his youth to Coahoma this summer. His youth were deeply impacted by the trip, especially the time they spent at the Jonestown Community Development Resource and Activity Center (more commonly referred to as Ms. Burnett’s place). Our participants went to Ms. Burnett’s place for the Tuesday and Thursday morning Kids Club activity. Over the course of the summer, YouthWorks groups helped clean and set up the facility, organize books, launch a fledgling literacy program, and attempt to get ramshackle bunch of old computers up and running. The highlight of every group’s visit was meeting Ms. Burnett. It is not enough to say that she is inspiring. One cannot leave her presence without feeling like they’ve been with God – this is a woman who truly shows the love of Christ in all that she does (even yesterday, when I chatted with her for a few minutes on the phone, I felt like she’d hugged me with her words and spirit, and almost expected my phone to be glowing when I set it down).
Back to Ryan’s group. When they returned home, one of Ryan’s youth told his father that he wanted to donate all of the money he’d saved up from his summer job ($1500) to Ms. Burnett. This youth was one who had tried to get her computers up and running, and knew that they would not quite get the job done. He has rallied his fellow youth group members, and with Ryan’s support they are planning a huge fundraiser and hoping to get some matching grants to be able to provide computers and supplies for the community center.
This in itself is a huge example of youth taking their love for a community and transferring it into action. But it’s not the only one. Today, I called Pastor Dennis, an adult leader from Florida. Pastor Dennis wasn’t actually the one who initiated or planned their trip to Coahoma; rather, two of his high school seniors did. Since their return home, the fire has continued to burn. The youth’s excitement about helping the community spilled over to their congregation, and thanks to some technologically savvy folks and a couple of corporate connections, they’ve acquired twelve new computers, installed Windows XP, and Pastor Dennis, one of the two youth who planned the trip, and another member of their congregation will be making the trek back up to Jonestown in October to install the computers at the community center. Now that this group has taken care of the center’s computer needs, I am excited to hear about how Ryan’s group will be able to contribute towards other needs.
God continues to work in unexpected and seemingly forgotten places, and as he does so he continues to work in me to show his wisdom and faithfulness. Praise Him for touching these youth that came to Coahoma in such a way that they had to act. That is what we constantly hope and pray for at YouthWorks!
I remember Eric talking about the story of the Good Samaritan earlier this year. He pointed out that part of the good in what the Samaritan did was continuing to walk alongside the man who was hurt – bringing him to the inn, caring for him there, providing for continued care, and promising to follow-up later. We talked about this as something we hoped our participants would be able to do, that they might somehow continue to walk beside our communities, whether directly or indirectly. A couple of my post-trip calls have shown me that that is happening, at least for one community.
Yesterday I spoke with Ryan, a trip leader from Missouri who brought his youth to Coahoma this summer. His youth were deeply impacted by the trip, especially the time they spent at the Jonestown Community Development Resource and Activity Center (more commonly referred to as Ms. Burnett’s place). Our participants went to Ms. Burnett’s place for the Tuesday and Thursday morning Kids Club activity. Over the course of the summer, YouthWorks groups helped clean and set up the facility, organize books, launch a fledgling literacy program, and attempt to get ramshackle bunch of old computers up and running. The highlight of every group’s visit was meeting Ms. Burnett. It is not enough to say that she is inspiring. One cannot leave her presence without feeling like they’ve been with God – this is a woman who truly shows the love of Christ in all that she does (even yesterday, when I chatted with her for a few minutes on the phone, I felt like she’d hugged me with her words and spirit, and almost expected my phone to be glowing when I set it down).
Back to Ryan’s group. When they returned home, one of Ryan’s youth told his father that he wanted to donate all of the money he’d saved up from his summer job ($1500) to Ms. Burnett. This youth was one who had tried to get her computers up and running, and knew that they would not quite get the job done. He has rallied his fellow youth group members, and with Ryan’s support they are planning a huge fundraiser and hoping to get some matching grants to be able to provide computers and supplies for the community center.
This in itself is a huge example of youth taking their love for a community and transferring it into action. But it’s not the only one. Today, I called Pastor Dennis, an adult leader from Florida. Pastor Dennis wasn’t actually the one who initiated or planned their trip to Coahoma; rather, two of his high school seniors did. Since their return home, the fire has continued to burn. The youth’s excitement about helping the community spilled over to their congregation, and thanks to some technologically savvy folks and a couple of corporate connections, they’ve acquired twelve new computers, installed Windows XP, and Pastor Dennis, one of the two youth who planned the trip, and another member of their congregation will be making the trek back up to Jonestown in October to install the computers at the community center. Now that this group has taken care of the center’s computer needs, I am excited to hear about how Ryan’s group will be able to contribute towards other needs.
God continues to work in unexpected and seemingly forgotten places, and as he does so he continues to work in me to show his wisdom and faithfulness. Praise Him for touching these youth that came to Coahoma in such a way that they had to act. That is what we constantly hope and pray for at YouthWorks!
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