Lament, Disturbance, and a Beautiful Reality

About 20 minutes after I sat down across from Janet, she decided to lift her eyes from her newspaper, pull out her phone, and show me a picture of a young, smiling boy standing awkwardly next to a flower pot.  I met her in CHOC (Community Housing Outreach Center), a segment of Water Street Mission where homeless people can reside, play games, use the phone and the computer, and build relationships with each other during the day. Janet looked over her glasses at me and pointed at the picture.

“That’s my son.”

Janet is twenty-eight, though she appears to be older from the deep, black and blue circles around her eyes. I noticed the wedding ring on her ring finger.

“Where is your son now?” I asked.

She looked back down at the newspaper lying limply on the sticky table in front of her.   “He was adopted.”

She yawned and got up from her chair.

Water St Mission

It is precisely at these moments that I feel utterly unworthy to be in the presence of someone without a home.  I merely look into their eyes to understand that I know nothing of that which I call pain, joy, faith, trust, loss, life, and love.  I am extremely disturbed by the tension between my life and the people’s lives at Water Street.  Countless times, I have met people who have worked at my college, Franklin & Marshall.  It was uncomfortable to see a 40-year old immigrant from Italy talk about making pasta for me and my fellow privileged F&M peers who most likely had no idea of the poverty of his life.  I admit that I have privilege; a social and economic status associated with me that the people in CHOC do not have and could never have.  The people in CHOC are those who did not have grandparents who could afford a down payment on their parent’s house so that their parents could save for their children’s college education.  They do not have family or friends who they can ask for money when in crisis.  These people lack any kind of economic safety net other than a non-profit homeless shelter. When their rent fund runs out, they have nowhere else to go.

I hear the endless stories and I lament. I lament that fathers and mothers like Janet cannot have the basic right to raise their own children.  I lament the captivity and the yokes of drugs and alcohol and the hopelessness of these family generational cycles of poverty.  I lament that our culture expects an individual to pull themselves up by their bootstraps, and make a living in a capitalist society that makes the poor more poor and the rich more rich.  I lament that the poor are marginalized by their own human race, and I lament that social stereotypes and statuses deny people the basic right of dignity.  I admit that, in some form or another, by not shopping fair trade or avoiding a homeless person on the street, I have contributed to their marginalization.  I lament - and like Nehemiah whose heart broke for Jerusalem, I came home from Chapel one night, sat down, and felt like weeping.  I felt helpless, naïve, angry, confused, sad, and overly ideal.

~~~~

This past week, the tension between my life and the lives of the people at Water Street has slowly dissipated.  After talking with one of the women in the Women’s Ministry program, Mary, I realized that she struggled with the same problems that I struggle with, yet at a more extreme level.  Our conversation began as countless other conversations that I have had with people at Water Street, where I am listening, nodding, and affirming, while the other person is pouring out their life story.  Yet, our one-way conversation soon turned into a discussion about both of our lives, as we realized how much we have in common and the problems we share. Hearing her story, her wisdom, and the ways that God has transformed her is unbelievable. The people at Water Street are those who may be economically poor, yet they are spiritually rich with wisdom and experience.  They have nothing of worth that America recognizes, yet they possess the greatest capacity for perseverance, and from that, faith and hope and love. They are people who can sit in ripped Spiderman pajamas reeking of body odor with a few dollars in their pants pocket, and yet, who can say that God is good and that He will provide as they has seen countless times before.

One of the pastors of the church we attend came to our house and gave her testimony.  She described her past life of prostitution, drug addictions, loss, and violence, and somehow, through all of that, God blessed her with a healthy body without diseases. Today, on the same streets where she used to sell drugs, she now preaches the living Word of God.

The city is a diverse, creative, and dynamic place where God shows up in diverse, radically creative, and dynamic ways. The people and their testimonies have begun to transform me and my image of God.  I will end with the words of Pastor Michael from Water Street, who told our group what I believe to be a prophetic phrase: “I want you to know: the city will steal your heart.  It will steal your heart and you will never be the same.” 

Isaiah 58

Sabbath Reflection

Every Sunday is Sabbath.  We study Isaiah in the mornings, eat leftovers, and worship in the evenings.  We rest, reflect, play frisbee and generally enjoy each other and God.  Here are a few pictures to give you a window into what we're reflecting on. 

 Last week Becky led us in studying Isaiah 58 - she taught AND drew at the same time!

 Our artistic renderings of the promises in Isaiah 58.

"Can we find Scripture references for everything we're talking about?" asked Lizzie.  Absolutely we can!  We made a huge chart: creation, fall, redemption, restoration across the top; relationships along the side: people-God, people-people, people-creation, and people-themselves.  The chart overflowed onto 2 pages, containing mostly Genesis, Mark and Isaiah references (we're good InterVarsity students...) with some Paul and Revelation thrown in for good measure.

 Two watercolors done by Rhi from our front porch

A drawing done by a boy part of the team met on relational ministry day - he was so excited!

Dessert!  

Last week we discussed if sabbathing includes resting from spending money (so you don't make others work on the sabbath, taking a break from the economic system, etc).  Some of us really wanted to go to the bodega and get some ice cream.  And then we realized that every Sunday, someone has given us a great dessert!  This week it came in the form of a cake mix, which Joacim just baked.  

The Lord provides....

“Allow God to Screw with Your Life”

And oh how He has been doing that to each of us! Right when we all thought that we were getting into the swing of things, Betsy puts in a twist… Last Thursday morning, as we all sat around to talk about the next week’s budget, we were informed that six of our community members were “evicted” for the night, meaning that they had no place to live or sleep from 8pm to the following morning. So now the very homeless shelter that they had been serving at became their new home for the night.

This was not the only surprise however; another two members of our crew were “promoted”. Not only did they receive an extra $20, they also received an all-expenses paid night at the local Marriott Hotel. Finally there remained three members of the community (myself included) who were just to remain at home.

The next day when we all came together again, we found that God forced those who went to the shelter to lose a restful and needed night of sleep so they would understand what some people experience every night, not just one. For those who went to the Marriot, God broke their hearts when they figured out the amount of comfortable beds that would not be in use that night and the amount of people on the street that will never see a bed. Finally for those who stayed at home, God showed us just how lonely and wrong it feels for a community that has become so strong and close to be divided and broken, even for one night.

Allow God to Screw with Your Life….It’s a funny thing, that phrase...because it means giving up the little control I thought I had over my life. It means trusting that God’s love is faithful: love that holds on. It means allowing God to show me that when I thought I had it all together, I couldn’t have been farther from the truth. It means falling in love with God again. It means going back to the basics.  

The Unexpected

Monday, June 11^th a man named Joe came to speak to our Sidewalks community.  One idea he emphasized that really stuck with me was this: that when we interact with the people we are serving and working with, we must be quick to listen and slow to speak.  Our interactions should not immediately jump to, “Hi my name is Joe, have you met Jesus?”  Instead, we should inquire about their life.  So, with this in mind, I would like to tell a story of something unexpected that happened to me.  

I’m working at a kids’ camp this summer and each day we play a lot of physical games.  Usually there are kids that don’t want to play or who get angry and sit out.  When this happens, counselors usually just try to convince them to get back in the game, myself included.  This can be effective sometimes, but it seems like Joe encourages something else.  So, we were playing kickball this past Tuesday morning when one of the kids, Dante (name changed), got angry and decided to sit out.  Seeing this I felt called to talk to him.  With Joe’s advice in mind I ran over and sat down next to him.  This is how the conversation went:

Me: What’s up man?

Dante: I just don’t feel like playing this game anymore.

Me: Why is that?

Dante: It’s just really boring.

Me: Ok.

Dante: And people get angry over stupid things that don’t matter, it’s just a game and people shouldn’t do that.

Me: Yea I know what you mean, that’s understandable.  Well I’ll see if we can switch games soon.

Dante: Yea can you ask Shane if we can? (Shane is the supervisor)

Me: Yea definitely!

(And as I get up to leave)

Dante: Thank you.

After this conversation Dante got up and continued playing the game with the hope and trust that I would do my best to change the game.  I don’t know if it was my prejudgment of this boy, or just his excellent manners that surprised me, but I just felt amazing after this conversation.  I felt like God had used me to not only speak to this boy, but to help give him a voice.  My hope that even this little experience gives him worth and lets him know that his opinions do matter.  I praise God for opportunity I had to not speak and share the gospel, but just to listen and watch God work.

Lots of Jagged Rocks Thrown into One Small Space

When I did a project much like Sidewalks several years ago, I remember going home and telling my mom excitedly, “I learned to do conflict!” (Her first reaction was confusion- I probably should have said ‘conflict resolution’.) I was excited because I learned that conflict, when done well, brings deep intimacy in friendships.

Something mysterious happens when you’ve hurt someone and you go to them in humility (or embarrassment!), choking out that scary admission: “I was wrong.” Or when you’re the one who’s been hurt and you’re gracious and honest.  God can get at those exposed places. That sort of friendship was unlike anything my college-student self had before experienced. So I was eager to share how I had learned about conflict.

Other recent Sidewalks alumni held similar fervor. They enthusiastically told members of our team, “You’re doing Sidewalks? Awesome! You’re going to do conflict!!”  So our group approached this hyped-up but rather scary idea of conflict together. Imagine day three of Orientation: as we waited to hear out speaker, Alison,  I could almost hear the unspoken objections. Doesn’t conflict mean you’re doing something wrong? Isn’t that the opposite of Christian community? It’s much better to be polite and quiet, right?

But Alison reassured us, “It isn’t about conflict, really. It’s about becoming.” We’re all stuck in a rock tumbler this summer. And our sharp edges are going to be rubbing against each other’s sharp edges. That’s good news! God’s inviting us to let our gritty selves be exposed so he can deal with us. Together.

Would you take a minute now to pray for our rock tumbler community? We’ve jumped in, but we’re not yet letting each other see our gritty-sharp edges. That’s going to take some nerve. Praise God.

Another LONG, COMPLICATED conversation

Tonight half our team attended Chapel at Water Street (homeless shelter).  For an hour we sat in a room with people experiencing homelessness.  We exited the building to find it raining outside, and dashed a few feet to the car, which took us home (home: as in a place with a roof where we won’t get rained on).  As we settled in the living room, Kacy started voicing her guilt and anger – anger that some people were homeless and would be out on the streets tonight, and guilt at being able to just come home after Chapel.

Cue the LONG, COMPLICATED conversation.  Sidewalks is measured in long, complicated conversations. 

Soon the entire team is sitting in the living room, talking about homelessness and wrestling with guilt.  Frustration spills out at not being able to help.  We take a long tangent about if it’s ok to want to help – several articles and speakers have challenged everyone to put aside heroic helping and enter in to merely learn.  That tension spins us again into an earlier conversation about why Jesus says “Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the Kingdom of God.”  The question of “why are we really here” takes us down another road.  And we come back to the guilt of privilege.

Because we’ve covered so much ground (and definitely talked in circles a bit), Lizzie suggests we share what we want to remember from the conversation before we move into prayer.  Here’s a sampling of what was shared (note the lack of resolution!):

Rhi – we need to make things long-term, to aim for changes that last through our lives instead of quick-fixes.

Josh – building relationships is everything.  The way I view Water Street has changed already.  On Day 1 I asked, “How can I help you?” when checking someone in; on Day 2 I asked, “How’ve you been since yesterday?”

Lizzie – I still have this overarching feeling of guilt about wanting to help.  I don’t know what to do with this because I get what Becky said about how “helping” separates the helper from the helped.

Kacy – I still don’t know what to do with the tension between our lives and the lives of people at Water Street.  I don’t know what to do with these strong emotions, or how to use my privilege to creatively build the kingdom.

 

Jesse – if our hearts keep breaking, we will use our power for others and for the kingdom.

Betsy – about the only thing we can immediately give someone is dignity and our expectation to learn and have some of our needs met by them.  One of the worst things about being poor is people thinking you have nothing to offer.

Jesse – we could treat clients as if they have as much to offer us as professors on campus.

Becky – a friend once told me “Don’t be upset that you have privilege, but be upset that I don’t.”

Lizzie – long-term care for people is possible.  The apostle Paul’s heart broke for everyone he met.  He carried that broken-heartedness and care around for years; it fueled his prayer and mission.

We then entered into a time of lament.  Lament is a new concept for many on the team.  These words from Reconciling All Things by Emmanuel Katongole and Chris Rice guided us:

 

“The first language of the church in a deeply broken world is not strategy, but prayer.  The journey of reconciliation is grounded in a call to see and encounter the rupture of this world so truthfully that we are literally slowed down.  We are called to a space where any explanation or action is too easy, too fast, too shallow – a space where the right response can only be a desperate cry directed to God.  We are called to learn the anguished cry of lament.”

Love Your Neighbor as Yourself

I came here sort of knowing a couple individuals from other InterVarsity events, but for the most part I'm dedicating six weeks of my life to people who for all I know have also dedicated six weeks of their life to me. But what a delightful group of bright-faced people I am sharing a house with. Plenty of joyous laughter and music has already filled the house, and it's only day two. It is clear and exciting that everyone has unique personalities and gifts that inspire and intrigue me, and it's only day two. We have entered and explored the city, talked to the locals, prayed for the locals, saw some brokenness, experienced some sadness, and happily visited the corner store with two bucks for ice cream, and it's only day two. But six weeks?

"What is the gospel?"
"What is the kingdom?"
"Where did you see God's beauty before you knew Jesus?"
"Where are you from?"
"Are you guys lost? Aren't you with another group of people?"
"Are you one of the new kids?"
"Do you have any questions about conflict?"
"What do you want to do with your art degree?"
"What is justice?"
"Should I confront this?"


Questions our team heard from staff, neighbors, and each other...loaded questions that have our minds well occupied and yet it's only day two. But six weeks?

A man sat with his young son on the front steps of his house eating a sub and chips. We were making our way across the lumpy sidewalk that guided our first exploration into the city. He was very interested in the four of us that were walking through his neighborhood with backpacks and a camera. He inquired us of what we were doing and why we were here, and after about a minute of covering the basics, he told us about the hope of job opportunity that brought him to Lancaster, and the devastation of kidney failure and other health issues that have gotten in the way of his dreams. His eyes were red and he looked tired but he was surrounded by other family and friends, and said that the reason he liked Lancaster was that it was a good place to raise the little ones he loves.

Going down another lumpy path, we passed a young teenage girl playing with her two very young siblings. The smile she gave us was very warm, and the curious eyes of the young boy were wide and staring. But what really got me was the toddler girl sitting very proud and tall on their porch step. She was shy at first, but after we smiled at her and said "hello," she quickly beamed and squealed out a "HEWWO!" and continued laughing as we turned the corner.

There's something odd, awkward, and a little uncomfortable about coming together with a group of people I don't really know, in a place I don't really know, doing who knows exactly what. We have a vague idea that we are on a mission for Jesus, and that's very true. We all know that He will definitely teach us something. But as of now, we don't know what that looks like. But isn't it beautiful, that we have all encountered people that have touched our hearts and we are excited, and it's only day two.

 Part of what fueled my excitement for Sidewalks was the idea that I will be more awesome after it's done. I knew relationships would have to happen and that would be good and stuff and all, but that didn't excite me as much. I mean, I have a close community of friends at home, an awesome boyfriend, and family that loves me..so who else do I really need to be in relationship with? C.S. Lewis talked about this once in his book The Weight of Glory: "It may be possible for each of us to think too much of his own potential glory hereafter; it is hardly possible for him to think too often or too deeply about that of his neighbor...It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you say it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations...Next to Jesus himself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses."

Bret and Betsy are surrounded by lots of neighbors they love and trust, and we are encouraged to get to know them. In the house, we are constantly surrounded by each other. Lots of neighbors. Lots of opportunities to learn how to love them like we love ourselves. And this is only day two. What will happen in 6 weeks?