It's was not your fault.

Haunted by the memories, sleep eludes you. You toss and you turn, trying unsuccessfully to push the pain aside. Slowly, a tear slides down your face, then another and another until sobs shake your entire body and the cry of your tortured soul escapes from your lips.
"God, I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" The memories are flashing faster and faster now, and suddenly you find yourself back in that place, back in that room on that terrible, terrible day. You're small now, and fragile, so very, very fragile. You want to reach into your mind and shelter that small child, but as on that day, you stand powerless, powerless to protect, powerless to comfort, powerless to heal. 
The memories continue to come and you scream. You scream until you can scream no more. "Why, God? WHY???" The shame and the guilt flood over you like endless waves and you drown in the feelings of contempt and self-loathing. "Maybe if I'd stood up for myself! Maybe if I'd said no! Maybe if I'd run away!" Your heart is torn in anguish as you watch that child, that innocent, precious child and for the first time in your life, you realize that it was not your fault. You are not to blame. You are not filthy and wretched and broken. You are pure, and sweet and innocent. What happened to you all those years ago, what was done to you in that awful moment was not your fault. 
As the tears begin anew, light slowly creeps through the pieces of your shattered soul and the faintest traces of healing begin.

Don't quit!!

I love this scene from the movie "Facing the Giants".

 

On the incredibly difficult and challenging journey we've been on over the last two years, we've had numerous "coaches" along the way, shouting "Don't quit! Don't quit! You can do it! Don't quit!" To each and every one of you, thank you. From the bottom of my heart I thank you, because without your help, I would have stopped at the twenty yard line, but with your help, I'm heading for the end zone!
 
"Don't quit! Just one more step. Don't quit!!" You'll be amazed at what you can do.

If I hadn't

If I hadn't been betrayed, I wouldn't have understood the extent of His forgiveness and love.

If I hadn't lost my mind, I wouldn't have understood the people caught in suffocating darkness.

If I hadn't tried to take my life, I wouldn't have understood the depths despair can reach.

If I hadn't been tossed away by those I held most dear, I wouldn't have understood the pain of rejection and loss.

If I hadn't fought my cancer, I wouldn't have understood the treasure each day holds.

If I hadn't lost my dignity, I wouldn't have understood my need for Him.

"And we know that in ALL things, God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose." Romans 8:28

Should we feed the homeless?

I was just asked a question by a friend. He said: "I was told that feeding the homeless is enabling them and that it is better to direct them to programs like the Salvation Army. What do you think about that?"
Hmm. What DO I think about that? I ask myself often if what I seek to do with the homeless is actually enabling their lifestyle. I ask myself if my efforts are in vain and they will continue just the way they are no matter what I do or say. But then I look at Jesus. When Jesus fed the 5,000, He didn't say: "Stupid people! Why didn't they think to bring food? We need to teach them to plan better!" No. He fed them. He fed them and continued to teach them because the important thing was not that they had good life skills. It was that they knew Him, that they were enabled to hear what He had to say to them, whether they planned poorly or not.
In my two and a half years working with the homeless, I have met all types of people: addicts, mentally ill, people caught in the perpetual cycle of poverty. Many, many, many of these people would never check in to the Salvation Army or the Mission. Some had families they wouldn't want to leave behind. Some were too addicted to their substance of choice to detox before entering a program. Some were too much of a wanderer to be "trapped" in one place for a year or more. Some had pets that were like family to them and they would have had to give up those pets to enter the program. Some were so deep into their mental illness that there is no way they would be able to make a positive choice for their future without a great deal of help. They would not walk into a place like the Salvation Army or the Mission with a desire to get their lives together! Some of them were not even able to tell reality from fiction, but they knew they were hungry. And they knew they were cold. And they recognized when people loved them as individuals.
When I was still at Church in the Park, I met a young woman I will call May. May was probably in her early twenties. She came nearly every week and sat near the back, usually alone. One day, as I was walking around handing out name tags, I greeted her by name and then asked her if I could give her a hug. The look on her face was priceless and I have never forgotten it. I will bet that to her, that hug meant more than any of the food or clothes she got that day.
When someone doesn't believe they are worth anything, why would they bother to check themselves into a program? If they have no hope for the future, whether because they were taught to believe they are worthless, or life is meaningless, or because they have a mental illness that robs them of any joy they might otherwise have felt, they will not take the steps to better their future.
I went to Beard Brook Park and now I go to West Side Park, not because people need food, but because people need LOVE. They need to know the Source of that love. I don't hand out water because a bottle of ice water will change their lives. I hand out water because it will show them that I love them and in turn they will begin to wonder why I love them and through me, they will see Him. My goal is not to put their lives back on track. My goal is to lead them to the One who can put their hearts back together. That is why I go, and feed and clothe and love.

How God turned water into BBQ

 

I decided a couple weeks ago that every day the temperature reached 100 degrees or more in Modesto, I would take water to West Side Park. We've been able to do that four times to date, and then a friend gave me some bread, rolls and cookies to hand out along with the waters. I thought since we have the bread (and it's good, gourmet bread!), we should make sandwiches with it and pass those out. I asked around but only got two people to agree to go with me. Then at church today, one of those people approached me and said: "Hey, I have a bunch of hamburgers and hot dogs, buns, chips, condiments and plates left over from my BBQ on Saturday if you want them for tomorrow." Um, WOW!!!! I had been wondering where I would get the condiments and plates for the sandwiches, and now I have burgers and hot dogs too?! And chips!! "Oh, and cheese." He said. CHEESE?!?!? Do you know how rare it is for the homeless to have cheese on their burgers?! That stuff is expensive! CHEESE! We have CHEESE!! Amazing!
I asked my friend Justin if he could round up a few extra people to go with us, and he said "no problem. How many do you need?". My friend Jessie said she and her daughter would come too, and they would bring their folding chairs. She also gave me a drink cooler for the water. So now we had bread, buns, burgers, hot dogs, buns, drinks, condiments, cookies and plates. I decided to head down to CITP to let a couple of my friends down there know about the BBQ so they could spread the word. On the way there, I told the kids "Isn't this great?! Now all we have to buy is the lunchmeat and ice!" We get to the park and I was chatting with a friend, telling her about our plans for tomorrow. Never once did I mention the need for lunchmeat. As we're talking, she said: "Hey, I have a bunch of lunchmeat. Do you want it?" Um, YES!! Thank you!!
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how God changes water into a BBQ!

Should we grovel?

I have a problem, or so it may seem. I can't grovel before God. I just listened to a sermon by a well-known preacher that I highly respect, but this time, I just couldn't agree with some of what he was saying. He was talking about being careful about how we approach God, that when we pray, we need to make sure we are not being flippant, but that we are giving God the reverence He deserves. Now, I fully believe God deserves our complete adoration and respect. I am in no way saying that we should take for granted what He has done for us. However, for most of my life, I have prayed the penitent prayers over and over and over again, thinking that the sorrier I was, the holier I would become. I felt like I needed to cry repeated tears over the price that Christ paid for me, or I wasn't genuinely penitent and thankful. I don't believe that any more.
No one can compare to God, not by a mile! In and of ourselves, we are too tarnished to come in the presence of a holy God. If we try to approach God in our own strength, then yes, we should grovel. We should shake in utter fear!! BUT I am not tarnished any more!! I've been paid for, washed clean, purified and stand blameless before God! I am not approaching Him as a condemned sinner but as a redeemed saint! If I grovel, if I weep and moan and cry about how evil I am, am I not spitting on the very blood that has cleansed me?? Am I good enough to stand before God? YES! Because I've been redeemed. I've been bought. I'm not a slave anymore, so why should I continue to act like one? How in the world does that honor the God who gave His own life so that I could stand confidently before Him?
I stand in awe of God, but I can no longer live afraid of Him. He is not out to get me. He is not measuring each and every one of my thoughts and deeds to see if I'm good enough to claim as His own. He's already measured me, found me lacking, and paid the immeasurable difference so that I can be His. No amount of weeping, begging and/or self loathing will make me any more His child. That's why I can approach Him with confidence, trembling not in fear but in awe of His majesty, crying, not in pain or remorse, but in joy at the incomparably deep, deep love of the God of the universe, who loves me enough to call me His child.

Having a snowcone day

Sometimes I think the best way to understand how God must feel is to be a parent. How many times have we bent over backwards to spoil our kids, only to have them complain about what they didn't get! I took the kids to a carnival the other day (one of my least favorite places on earth) and bought them dinner there. Instead of a thank you, one of them pouted because I said they couldn't get a snow cone. I wasn't too happy with my offspring right then. There I was giving them an evening full of fun, but instead of being grateful, the focus was on what they didn't get.
I thought of that today. Today's been a rough day for me. Lots of memories are associated with this day and my heart hurts. I was looking through some pictures, seeing people I haven't seen in months, people whom I believed were some of my best friends but disappeared from my life when things got really rough, and I cried. I cried for the good times of old. I cried for each stab to the heart I took over and over. I cried in shame and anger for the abusive treatment I put up with for too long because I so desperately wanted to belong. And I cried because I couldn't go back to the days when I thought everything was ok, when the magic of what I wanted to believe blinded me to the reality I refused to accept.
Then I realized I was crying over a snowcone. I have such a beautiful life right now. Take tonight as an example. We were invited to spend the evening with friends tonight, not because they want anything out of us, or because they are paying us back for something, but simply because they love us. 
We just got home from a camp where love was showered on us. Everywhere I go, I am loved just because. I'm loved by people who KNOW the love of God and because they know it, they LIVE it. They don't just talk it, they walk it. I am in a much better place. I'm healthier than I've been in a long time. 
God has brought me to my carnival and now I can decide if I'm going to enjoy it, or cry over frozen teeth-rotting sugar.

West Side Park

God has placed me on a journey. I have agreed to go on it, but I do not understand it and I'm frustrated! I know my frustration is part of the journey, and that I need to learn to trust God one step at a time. I wish I could learn the lesson quickly, but I tend to take a long time wrapping my head around life's lessons to the point that they sink into my heart and they stick. So onto this journey I go, knowing that it will be painful at times, frustrating at others, and miraculously amazing at still others.
Even before I left Church in the Park (a ministry to the homeless of Modesto that Jason and I were heavily involved in for two and a half years), I felt drawn to West Side Park. I thought maybe I was just trying to create my own "CITP" because I was frustrated with the one I was involved in and didn't act on my pull toward that park. Then we left CITP and I found out I had cancer. My life took on a whirlwind of its own and working with the homeless in any way, shape or form was out of the question for awhile. Then I started to feel better and the draw to West Side Park returned. I prayed and prayed and prayed about it, at times excited to see what God wanted to do there, and more times than that asking God to please ask someone else because I was definitely not qualified to "run" any type of homeless ministry. I kept remembering the story of Moses, telling God he wasn't the right man for the job, that he wasn't a good speaker, etc. I used to find that story strange. I mean, after all, if God tells you to do something, why in the world would you argue?! He knows what He's doing, right? He's not going to ask us to do something and then not enable us to do it, so why in the world would Moses be afraid, or feel inadequate? Now I understand because I too found myself arguing with God, telling Him that I really didn't think this was a good idea.
Then I found myself wondering where we would get chairs and canopies and sound systems and volunteers and food and...and...and...and how in the world does someone start something like that?? "Pray. Walk around the park and pray." Repeatedly, I felt the Lord prompting me to walk around the park and pray for it and for the work that He wants to do there. I'd love to say I obeyed, but I didn't. I prayed, but I didn't walk. I prayed from my room, not the park. To be honest, I don't know how to go about something like this, trying to serve in an area I've been told is too dangerous for me to go to alone. Is this one of those times when I trust God will protect me and just go, or do I need to use some creativity and find people to come and pray with me? I don't know. One of the things about this journey is that God seems to be guiding me in HIS time and HIS time is much, much slower than mine. I want to take giant leaps and He's taking me on baby steps, really, really slow baby steps, teaching me to trust and wait.
As I was praying, we got hit by a heat wave and I felt drawn to take ice water bottles to West Side Park and hand them out. A couple friends and I went down and did this and I was flying so high by the time we were done! I felt like I was finally home again and couldn't wait to do more. I decided that for every day the temperature in Modesto reached 100 or more, I would take water out. I started putting the word out and the water donations started pouring in. Several people dropped off cases of water and others donated money. The man-power, however, has been slim. It's the week of July 4th and everyone is busy. So again, frustration sets in and I am reminded HIS timing. HIS timing. HIS timing, not mine.
Yesterday, my friend Stephanie and I handed out twenty four water bottles and could have handed out more, but that was all we had brought with us. I was so excited about today, but unfortunately, the person I had lined up to go with me had something come up and couldn't go, and I had forgotten my phone at home, so I didn't get the message until later. I drove by West Side Park three times, hoping to see someone I knew so they could help me pass out the waters. There were so many people there in the heat, but I couldn't stop because I was alone with the kids. Since I had forgotten my phone at home, I couldn't call anyone else to join me either. So I drove by with 48 bottles of ice water in my trunk wondering how stupid it would be to just stop and hand them out on my own. But there's a difference between risking my life and risking the lives of my children, so we went home.
I know it's not a huge deal. The homeless go without water all the time and it's not like our 48 bottles would have made an earth shattering difference, but I'm really sad about it. Ironically, I listened to a sermon last night just before bed and one of the points in the sermon was that when God gives you a task, a dream, and you set about to do it, you will invariably come across road blocks.
I don't know what God has planned for West Side Park. I don't know if this is a personal journey for me, about letting go and trusting God, or if He has something bigger up His sleeve. Honestly, I have NO clue. I'm trying really hard not to panic about failing, about dropping the ball, about doing it "wrong". Instead, I'm focusing on listening to His voice and following it, one step at a time, and I think that means it's time for me to get my butt down there and do some praying, like He told me to weeks ago.