Spiritual attack or indigestion?

“Timothy, my child, I am giving you this instruction in keeping with the prophecies previously made about you, so that by them you may strongly engage in battle, having faith and a good conscience. Some have rejected these and have suffered the shipwreck of their faith.” (1 Timothy 1:18-19 HCSB)

I will write this post and leave for once my personal opinion out of it as much as possible. What happened is either spiritual warfare or simple self-piety…..or coincidence. You decide.

It was Thursday evening, the day after an amazing experience chasing after God for the entire day. It was an humbling experience to have God remove me out of the picture and then impose a ‘gag-rule’ by those in the team with me. I think that’s the longest I’ve ever been quiet since I learned how to make sounds into speech. He was faithful to show the wondrous plan He had made with Joan Bernard’s sermon and the effectiveness of her testimony….that coupled with the wonderful sounds of the Worship crew…and I thought it was a awesome worship that Lydia led as Nellie gave a sermon around a song she had written and Sarah added her voice to the echoes of God’s Word in the hallowed halls of the Bowery Chapel. Thursday morning was our final chapel that we were ‘responsible’ for and the whole house echoed with the men’s disappointment about that fact. Our time in the Bowery was winding down, so much more quickly than I realized.

The worship by the Mosaic Team and the Bowery Team went over and with Nellie’s sermon and Sarah’s the time rapidly disappeared……and it is very important as we have learned in our Bowery experience that everything end on time…they have listened to worship and service and are ready to eat. I passed on my ‘verse’ that I was going to read. I was a little upset about it, but realized that was selfish in nature and gave it to God. There really was no way to follow the powerful impact of Nellie’s gifting and offering. Which is why God ended the service as He did. I had spoke to Joan about my feelings and had them validated, that being a little jealous was not honoring to either my friend Nellie or God.

But for some reason I felt intense displeasure towards the evening and literally ran out of the Bowery Mission into the streets of New York’s lower Manhattan. I didn’t realize it then, but God removed His hand from me and left me to the wilds of the streets because I was burdened with self-doubt and uncertainty about my purpose and gift. Even if this is what God called me to, I didn’t feel equipped and purposed enough to do so, even though I was told I was more bold and confident in the pastoral end of the Bowery responsibilities than last year. Even though several members of the team expressed that they were blessed with the sermons and had been told by others in the Bowery the same.

A few nights when the duties of the Bowery were done, I wandered the streets of the area looking for homeless to invite to the shelter or to give some McDonald’s or to speak to so I could be immersed in the culture, the society and the experience. I felt it was important to God for me to do so so that I would be totally a servant to those who He had sent me and the team to minister to in the Bowery and the community who were served outside of the Disciple program that the Bowery runs. I was burdened heavily by the attitude of many New Yorkers towards the homeless; they were something to be ignored outside the community of the homeless shelters, something to be used for a sick type of entertainment in their environs and abused by those who were uncomfortable in the comforts of their lives that the homeless exposed as false satisfactions. It hurt and broken my heart to see these things. As Pastor Shannon said today, this is some of the things that cause me to pound my fists on the table with passion. I learned a lot about how the homeless perceive the ‘help’ and the ‘truthfulness’ of what they receive……………and some take advantage of while the core of them are simply surviving in grace.

One, constantly a source of amusement for both patron and employees at the McDonald’s across the Hudson Bridge I never got his name. He was one of the mentally challenged homeless that are scattered across the concrete environment of New York and a easy source of feeling superior to those around him. He was always being kicked out of the restaurant because he wasn’t buying food. He would sit there hunched over and very quiet, not muttering or making disturbing comments to patrons or even panhandling. But without fail, the employees would sent out the biggest and meanest looking among them to shame him into leaving. And the New Yorkers who were gathered there to enjoy their happy meals would watch. I approached him this night and asked him if I could buy him a meal….as I watched the employees gesturing and smiling at the thought of beginning the nightly eviction process. He swung around and pulled a switchblade knife on me. I guess I wasn’t too disturbed by it and we quickly resolved the problem. I bought him a meal and the employees hovered until he was done, promptly evicting him. Into the night he disappeared and I was never able to find him….I had followed him out as quickly as I could but he was enveloped into the darkness.

I wandered the streets for a while and came across one gentlemen who was hiding in the recess of a doorway. There was nothing unusual about this man, his dress and posture spoke of nights spent on the streets of New York and he made no threatening gestures or words to me. I simply said hello and felt the hairs on my neck stand up as he whispered a few words that I hadn’t heard in years…..”So, pretty boy, wanna play?” It was a phrase I had heard in several bars in several cities over the years when I was unsaved and they were the harbinger of a fight. I quickly turned and headed back to the Bowery, but the feeling of peace didn’t return and I tossed and turned all night long. Maybe, I reasoned as I woke up the next morning, it was simply coincidence and nothing to be upset about. I was invited to go out with my friend Mantell to do outreach in the Bronx with ‘Drew and I jumped full-heartedly into such an adventure. We dropped off extra donations at a small church in the South Bronx and over near Central Park where Will Smith filmed the movie “I am Legend.” We dropped off the rest of the bread and took some coolers with wheels over to the “Rescue Bus”, a ministry that travels from New Jersey over to New York and parks at various areas in the city with soup, hot liquids and occasionally clothes. It was our intention to see if some of the men wanted to come back to the Bowery in our empty truck and get showers/clothes for themselves. We had fifteen takers. In the clothing room back at the Bowery, one of the guys had problems finding a jacket. I emptied my pockets and gave him mine. He refused, until I offered to ‘trade’ him his windbreaker for my new coat. He finally agreed…….once the showers were over, the guys left the Bowery equipped with a Metro card to get them back to the areas they wanted to be. It was in the clothing area that the second ‘coincidence’ happened.

Several of the community homeless, those who were not in the Bowery Disciple program, were getting into verbal fights as they fought over the meager offerings of clothing at the Bowery. We managed to control the situation to a degree, with the calming influence of our teammate ‘Drew. But there were a couple that shook me to the core and I fled in fear from the Bowery’s clothing room. They were trading verbal abuses and I told them they would have to stop or they would both have to leave the Bowery. This is the rules and the homeless whom the Bowery serves are knowledgeable of them. One looked at me in the eye and said, “So, pretty boy, wanna play?” and made a gesture like he was going to ‘come at me.’ Maybe this was something surprisingly simple, but to me it was a full blast from my past down to the very gesture. My nose in slanted to one side because of the experience I speak of…..I still get migraines from the broken piece of my skull bone that lies in the indent between my eyes. It wasn’t the ‘blast from the past’ that caused me to flee, but the feelings familiar to those days of my past life that were suddenly in full force………I wanted to respond with the force he ‘threatened’ me with.

Maybe I’m making too much of a simple thing, mixing in my feelings of insecurity and my burdened heart about the insensitivity of communities all over the United States about the homeless. But the unusualness of the events and the feelings that they invoked make me wonder.

Spiritual warfare or something else?

Opportunity knocks.....

“And it happened, as Aaron was speaking to all the congregation of the sons of Israel, they turned toward the wilderness. And, behold! The glory of Jehovah appeared in the cloud!” (Exodus 16:10 LITV)

God presents us with opportunities, opportunities in which if we step into the unknown and follow that one small voice. We spend our ‘due diligence’ in preparation for the service that we’ve surrendered to God and it is our best presentation. But, if we bring our best to the table, it will never be enough. We are a broken, disbelieving people even as we trust in Christ to deliver upon the promise that He has made as His hands were stretched out and nailed to the Cross. Even then, as we walk into the life of disciples following Christ, growing in faith and obedience, we are at our best a broken and fallen people undeserving of the best of the Gospel promise but given it the same.

In those opportunities, God takes our best freely and fully given to Him and amplifies it to become something far beyond our abilities to deliver; something so special that we can recognize the presence of the Spirit wherever it occurs. It happened last year at the Bowery Mission and it happened again today at the Bowery Street home we share with the men of the Bowery.

Two weeks ago, I was prompted by God to go up to Joan Bernard and tell her, “You are going to preach one sermon at the Bowery.” No ‘please’, no ‘would you consider’ but rather a direct ‘command’ from God. She agreed and it has been a blessing to watch the transformation. When we got to the Bowery and I was given our ‘chapel responsibility’ schedule, I gave Joan the choice of when she wanted to do her sermon. She chose Wednesday afternoon.

But God had other plans.

Last night, after my sojourn of eight miles through the ‘wilds’ of New York, I came back with my cold in full effect to the point where I was losing my voice. And anyone who knows me knows there's not that stops me from talking….except losing my voice. I tried to get some good sleep and medicated myself as best I could. I even went to sleep earlier so that I’d get extra recovery time. And when I got up this morning, it was better but not good enough apparently for God’s work.

So I was given an opportunity to literally step out of the way of the work that God was doing and allow someone else He had selected to be the momentum to His glory; Joan.

And was able to sit back and watch God glorified.

As a daughter of the most High King and a son of the same walked into the leadership roles He had prepared for them to glorify His name. John stepped into a leadership role in the worship, singing the song “My God” and I knew my stepping back into a supportive role was God-designed rather than self-imposed, because as Joan stepped up to the pulpit and began her sermon…..God walked in the room and joined the Spirit which had come in during John’s presentation of worship.

And, as we well know, God rocks the house.

Once again, as I sat there praying over Joan’s service God showed His pleasure in His daughter by amplifying her best and making it the awesome and inspirational presentation of His word. And the glories that arose were all His.

Of course, He gave me an affirmation of what He had planned all along….for what Joan spoke of this morning, God’s given me the ‘closing’ statement on it for this afternoon.

Powerful indeed are the works of the Lord.

A lesson in humility though, first, before I can present God’s word this afternoon. The team, concerned for my voice, have imposed a ‘gag-rule’ on me until 12:15 when chapel starts. I cannot say a word, giving my voice a period of time to rest. I am not worried, though about being silent…….

God’s provided me with enough paper to ‘speak my peace’ well into the afternoon.

As they say here at the Bowery, “God is good!” All the time, everytime!!!

Boldness

“Then having such hope, we use much boldness.” (2 Corinthians 3:12 LITV)

Its been hard trying to get some time since I walked through the Red Doors again for the Bowery Mission 2011; in terms of wind-down time, no Wi-Fi access and Bowery living. It makes me glad that I’ve got the opportunity today to sit down at the Central Library, just down from Central Station and rest my very aching bones and feet with some ‘modern conveniences.’ When we arrived at the Bowery after 14 hours of busing, walking, train-riding, walking, subway-ing and more walking, it was with delight that we found the volunteer rooms had undergone transformation. Installed were blinds (nice ones), and painted surfaces with some modern looking and feeling metal bunk beds with extra thick mattresses. Bill, the supervisor who was such a great friend last year, was on duty and couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear. It was the beginning of the process for me, opening myself to the wonders anew that God would present here at the Bowery Street Mission.

Of course, our arrival in New York wouldn’t have been complete without Ray’s Pizza…….as a group we trouped back up Prince Street and sat down inside the tiny little ‘to go’ part of the business. 15 people quickly claimed that space as their own.

My heart has been broken anew even as my eyes are opened to the things I missed before, the very humanism of the Bowery and the dynamic flexible intense relationship it invites and demands of us all. The all too real agenda side of some of the members of the community here and how it is dealt with with the disciples of the community…..not in anger but with patience and understanding. It is not the perfect and ideal place, rather it is a place where God walks and is dynamic and fluid and attentive to those who would listen and that specialness is lost on those who refuse to see it.

I miss having Shannon Carey here because I could decompress and unwind with her, discussing those things I’ve seen and the experiences (yes, it has been ONE day) that I have been confronted with. The discussion of the preaching on Monday morning, the first time I’ve ever seen anyone preach with Ali, one of the supervisors of the program there, and just the connection of two men who shared only a cup of coffee had with bringing the Word to the Community. It was as if we had discussed the balance and synergy of the preaching to use---it was that blended and supportive of each other with the power to drive one of the disciples in the program up to surrender the rest of what he was holding back to the community. Sheldon, gentle warrior, got it all. Since that time, Ali has been walking around calling me “Pastor” even after I spend all day yesterday telling him no, I’m just Jim. But there is a boldness about my steps and a big grin on my face. I am indeed 'home.'

Speaking with boldness, expecting without timidity and demanding in earnest that God break me again and again in His wisdom and direction here.

We went to Tromley Park for outreach yesterday with my dear friend Mantell who was a student last year when I was here and now is a supervisor of Outreach for the Bowery this year. It is the first time that a volunteer got to drive the Bowery Outreach truck and I must admit that I kept the experience as true to the original I had last year as I could. Hearing the exclamation “I’m airborne” after we headed back proves that I got it right. There is nothing like New York roads and New York Drivers……and giving the keys to a Michigan boy probably isn’t the best idea they had. :D

This morning I was introduced to Pastor John who was delivering the message at morning chapel since we were off for the day. When we went into chapel, Ali insisted I sit up on the stage with Pastor John and he ‘because you are one of the leaders in this house this morning….’ I was told. When I remarked that I wasn’t, that Joseph was, he laughed and pointed to the chair…..

Tomorrow morning and afternoon, we’re responsible for the Chapel and Thursday morning as well and that will conclude our chapel ‘responsibilities.’ Please keep Joan Bernard in prayer as she shapes and molds her sermon for Wed. Afternoon carefully with prayerful insight and questions. Keep Nellie in prayer as she expressed some need for some time on Thursday’s service to answer God’s call. Keep Jay, Casey and Sarah in prayer as God shapes and leads them this week….they were the first God called to be prayed over by the group at our meeting last night.

When I woke up yesterday morning, it hit me like a ton of bricks……”this is home.”

Oh, not the Bowery Street Mission or even the environs of New York City…..

But living in the intensity of God’s work, being a small part of the larger picture He calls us all to join in as His children, His redeemed and His saved.

This morning, after serving breakfast and helping the Bowery guys clean up, we headed out to a restaurant to have some breakfast before we departed as individual groups to our planned (or in my case unplanned) outings. It was a great time of fellowship.

But then I got the ‘hair-brained’ idea to go with one group down to the Statue of Liberty at Battery Park. After the group was ‘settled’ in, Drew and I spilt from them and headed out……..

From Battery Park to Central Library.

Can someone come help me get back to the Bowery???

I don’t think I can walk anymore………..

God's calling......

“Coastlands, listen to me; distant peoples, pay attention. The LORD called me before I was born. He named me while I was in my mother's womb.” (Isaiah 49:1 HCSB)

I can remember last year at this time, tossing and turning in my bed as I pondered the question presented to me, “Why do you have to go to New York to work with the homeless?” I can remember finding the answer to that question behind the Red Bowery Doors in lower Manhattan, near Ground Zero and the Statue of Liberty, in the land of the ‘no-eye-contact’ people and cast systems that defy even the logic of their own thinking; Upper East Side, Bronx and so on. I can remember that special someone who helped me stay the course and travel to a place I’d never would've gone on my own. I remember and am humbled by her strength.

Shannon helped God awaken in me a realization of a future where the work wasn’t quite what I had thought and is definitely more extreme and more challenging and more terrifying. By encouraging me to go into that place, far from where I could effectively and quietly escape, she helped God present me with His purpose, His challenge and His mercy. And as much as I’ll miss sharing that teammate feeling with her and will miss the energy that consumed her and all those around her while we worked in the Mission last year, I look forward to the new teammates that are undertaking this adventure to be a part of the work God’s doing in the Manhattan bough of New York City.

I have a charter to do for the University today, a short three hour shift and then its off to collect a donation to support this trip from my Pastor of the church plant I attend on Sunday night . After that, its off to see my children for a few hours since they’ve been gone visiting their mother during their spring break and I’ll not be seeing them for another week as I go off on this mission’s trip and they get an extra week off work because babysitting didn’t come through as expected. Then I’m going to explore the relationship that I left hanging with Vineyard Church by participating in their “Rotating Shelter” for the homeless of Washtenaw. After I get home, I’ll pack the borrowed bag I’m getting and get a few hours sleep before I go to Trinity to ‘catch the bus’ over to WCC to get the rest of the team with Dino and Joseph, the other two drivers and teammates for this journey.

In a little more than twenty-four hours, the Mosaic A2 team will depart the environs of Ann Arbor Michigan for the distant, coastal lands of New York State. Some are old hands; Joseph, the team leader and Dawn, a few others. The majority are ‘newbies’ who bring talents and skills to this year’s team that make it as unique and God-designed as last year’s was.

Keep us in your prayers, both for the trip there and the arrival.

I think I hear the faint call of God beckoning me to those Red Doors.

Team Mosaic Bowery bound

“Call to Me and I will answer you and tell you great and wondrous things you do not know.” (Jeremiah 33:3 HCSB)

It is three days and a wake up call before the Mosaic A2 group departs the Michigan boundaries for the great state of New York and the lower Manhattan bowers where the Bowery Mission is to serve for a week in the homeless program there. Last year, being the ‘naïve’ innocent I was, I wasn’t ready for the impact that God would deliver in that place…..where I was confronted with His love, grace and mercy in such ways that I was humbled and broken by the time I left. This year, knowing the power of God to transform lives and hearts makes me nervous and challenged.

“Be the change you want to see in the world” was nicely stickered on the back of a vehicle in front of me on the way from the VA. It’s a quote from Gandhi, that Indian Philosopher that is celebrated for his non-violence doctrine and is oft quoted in context to Christians about how he likes Christ but not Christians since they are so unlike Christ. I think most of the time we are more focused on the change that we don’t realize that we have to be an embodiment of that change before we can vocalize it to the world. I have spent most of my Christian life arguing against the establishment of the human church to be a voice in the work that God has called me to. There have been those who have heard my ‘cries’ and seen the anointing and there are those who look first for a piece of paper and then the ‘signs’. I have given up arguing, for there is plenty of work to be done even without that calling.

Lately, I’ve just been stepping out in confidence that whatever God wants me to do, He’ll provide the proper credentials to do it.

‎"Such is the confidence that we have through Christ toward God. Not that we are sufficient in ourselves to claim anything as coming from us, but our sufficiency is from God, who has made us competent to be ministers of a new covenant, not of the letter but of the Spirit. For the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life." 2 Corinthians 3:4-6

I have written a few posts about the Bowery and the verses that God is laying upon my heart, knowing with anticipation that these are the things that He wants me to broach at the chapel sessions and totally clueless yet on how He wants me to do it. All in due time, my God is a God of last minutes because in the last minutes is where I tend to give up the reins and let Him do His work with my hands. After all, I am fully aware of how man can screw up even God’s handiwork. If you don’t believe me, look at His bride, the church.

We are leaving this year without a few of the dynamic personalities that made last year such an impacting trip but we carry with us new faces that have accepted the challenge of God to go into this place and be His ambassadors. We have no chance of repeating the major impact that the team had last year at the Bowery on that Thursday night chapel service where the walls were shook and the foundation quaked. Nor would I expect our team to do so. No, I expect that God will make a bigger and more personal impact on the lives and direction of those whom we come into contact at the Bowery and the team mates who are serving with me there. I am eagerly anticipating how God will shake a city block and rock the foundations of all who reside there.

Saturday night, I will be serving at the rotating shelter that is at Vineyard Church this week. Then its home to pack up and get a few hours shuteye before I go to pick up the bus that Trinity is letting us take to travel to New York to meet the team at the WCC for a departure of 7am. We’d love to have those who are so inclined either begin to pray for us or come to WCC to pray us off as we depart on this grand adventure for the Kingdom.

Maybe this time I’ll even come back with all my clothes……..

A noble work

"This saying is trustworthy: "If anyone aspires to be an overseer, he desires a noble work." An overseer, therefore, must be above reproach, the husband of one wife, self-controlled, sensible, respectable, hospitable, an able teacher, not addicted to wine, not a bully but gentle, not quarrelsome, not greedy-- one who manages his own household competently, having his children under control with all dignity. (If anyone does not know how to manage his own household, how will he take care of God's church?) He must not be a new convert, or he might become conceited and fall into the condemnation of the Devil. Furthermore, he must have a good reputation among outsiders, so that he does not fall into disgrace and the Devil's trap." (1^st Timothy 3:1-7 HCSB)

These verses were given to me to ‘chew on’ and seek some answers to some questions prompted by my mentor. The thing that hits me first is that anyone aspiring to be an overseer (pastor, elder, leader in the Christian body) is seeking a noble thing, something that is of worthy note and trustworthy to say of those whom have this ‘affliction of the Spirit.’ And, that prompts me to ask the obvious question of who wouldn’t want to pursue ‘noble’ work in the community of Christ. It strikes me though, as I remember the reading I’m doing of Timothy Keller’s “The Prodigal God” that sometimes our intention in doing the ‘noble work’ is nothing more than a ‘what can I get’ elder brother entitlement.

Of course, immediately around this corner of praise for the desire to do ‘noble work’ comes the roadblock I’ve dealt with most of my life; the ‘above reproach’ or ‘blameless’ in other translations. I am far from being blameless in my eyes; I still struggle and commit sins (I will never be totally perfect). I am far from an ‘ideal’ overseer if this is the case, well beyond my ‘nobility of purpose.’ And it depresses me. The Free Dictionary defines blameless as an adjective meaning free of guilt and not subject to blame. The Thesaurus adds inculpable, irreproachable or unimpeachable to the words similar to blameless. Vincent’s Word Studies give what I think is the best definition…. “without reproach: one who cannot be laid hold of : who gives no ground for accusation.” Can I say that I have given no ground for accusation? There is a difference between being accused and giving a reason to be accused.

The husband of one wife is an easy one, even with the divorce in my life from my ex. I am grounded in biblical basis for the divorce and that is enough said. A friend has asked me if I saw a reuniting in the future, ever, and I had to disagree because of the differenting paths of belief that we’ve both taken since that time. But I believe that God can do all things and right now He has shown me in powerful ways the idol I have made of an intimate relationship with a woman that destroys His rightful place in my life. So, I can feel relatively ‘safe’ in meeting the requirement of being of ‘one woman.’ There isn’t any.

It is the continuing list that has me alternating between ‘respectful yes-s’ and ‘shameful no-s.’

Thinking about this verse, and the ones that are usually ‘thrown’ up with these in support (see Titus 1:6-9), just makes me wonder why I bother and why I even seem to not learn to stop beating my head against the wall of improbability and impossibility when it comes to the vision I have been given and the vision that many other see that doesn’t even come close. Why do I dream of lofty places when most people think I belong down in the valleys? Not saying that my mentor does, but that’s the context in which these verses have been presented to me in the past.

I am not overseer material, apparently.

I do not dream of buildings with my name upon the entrances, plaques strewn about the hallways of commerce or avenues of merit. I don’t think of books with my names on them that become the literary staple of college courses. I don’t dream of millions upon millions that lift my name up as the one major factor in realizing the hope of their future, the joy of their life and the meaning behind the mysteries that float in the skies of their dreams at night. I do not envision a multi-sited, mega-sized and incorporated entity bearing my character in its motions and meetings.

I dream of nobility.

When I think of a noble work, I think of a soup kitchen line of hungry people clad in clothes that are too threadbare and worn to be considered for sale at the Salvation Army and the greatest honor of being able to ladle food on a plate with a smile and a kind word. I think of clasping a new friend on the back of the shoulder, the prelude to a hug (for brothers don’t shake hands, they hug). I think of faces breaking into cracks as smiles light up their faces because they have the inescapable feeling that they are loved, that they are cherished and that they have been seen.

I have been there, where the people of the Bowery Mission are and what they have faced. I have seen addictions like they have, I have experienced sorrow so deep it transforms a life once so full of joy as they have and I have been homeless as some of them still will be. I have been at the wits end of my life, trying suicide to stop the pain and watched the world gang up on me to consume me and I have swallowed the bitter pill of realizing that I cannot even do that. I have been where they are living and what they have going through.

I dream of them experiencing the hope I have found and seeing the transformation of the world as I have through the eyes of a Savior. I dream of seeing the hope renewed daily in their eyes as they feel the big, hairy and massive arms of a Father wrapped around them as His robe is thrown over their shoulders and a fatted calf is sacrificed for a big party.

I dream of standing outside the Pearly gates of Heaven and smiling as they pass by to feast at their Father’s banquet, not for some recognition in their faces or a kind word in passing but to see them once again coming home to their Mansions and no more wants. I dream of rattling off their names; Raymond, Cuba, Johnny, Peter, Marvin, Chris, Jose, Joshua, Irvin, Bobby, Ernie, Carl, Sory, Allen, Ezequiel, Cyde and Johnathan and seeing that hope dawning forever in their faces as they are greeted by Jesus and surrounded by those who love and cherish them.

Titles and positions can be thrown into the dirt over the chance to do such noble work. The rest is relative.

A canvas

“But you are our letter, and you are in our hearts for everyone to read and understand. You are like a letter written by Christ and delivered by us. But you are not written with pen and ink or on tablets made of stone. You are written in our hearts by the Spirit of the living God.” (2 Corinthians 3:2-3 CEV)

The time grows closer when I’ll be returning to New York’s lower Manhattan to be part of the continuing work led by Tom and the people of the Bowery Mission to reach out to the homeless community in the New York area. I grow alternately excited and nervous, joyful and fearful, as it approaches. There will be friends made from last year still in the program there and there will be new faces flushed with the acknowledgement of God’s hand upon them. Some of the community that is served at the Bowery will be the same, a year older and worn by their experiences on the streets and some will not be returning…..their time on this world having passed. That is why I experience such range of emotions and feelings.

When I am praying at my desk, pondering over the words that God has given me today or the thoughts of a mentor, a friend or the words of my children; I stare at the red apron displayed on the wall above it. Listed are the names of the workers and the men in the program and some of those in the community who were served during our time at the Bowery last year. Joshua, Martin, Marvin, Jose, Cuba and so many others. The apron, which only had “The Bowery Mission: Rebuilding Lives since 1879” on it, is covered now in black marker with very little space left to display only red cloth. It reminds me of the sins redeemed by the blood of Christ, it reminds me of the men and women of the Bowery community who have begun a journey towards home and it reminds me of one other thing……a canvas, a blank sheet of paper and a empty picture frame.

An artist friend of mine in Australia doesn’t see a blank, white canvas before her when she begins to transform it into a work of artistic expression (I hesitate to say “work of art” because she tends to disagree, but they are). The ‘emptiness’ that stares back at her isn’t something that needs to be filled with nonsense, it beckons her to bring its unique expression out for those of us ‘blind’ to the wonder of its art to see. It is the artist’s talent and passion that brings it out with clarity for us to appreciate. In much the same way, the photographer doesn’t look at the picture and select any old frame to put it in but rather looks for the unique and most complimentary frame to surround the picture to which it has been selected to hold. Not so that our eyes are drawn to the frame to express the appreciation of its borders but to draw our eyes inward to the picture and the story that it tells.

To a writer, the blank page (lined or unlined) is not simply something in which to write randomness on, to draw simplistic renderings of the world around them but to write a story…a letter to those whom they know of a beautiful story of events, people and places to take the reader upon a journey into that story so they may enjoy the beauty and splendor of it as well.

The beauty of the canvas, the blank sheet of paper and the empty picture frame is that once they are filled with the essence of what they were meant to convey, they can be viewed by anyone and the expression of the joyful story explained by the artist is open for everyone to enjoy.

I don’t go to the Bowery to write my own story of what is going on there in the boughs of Manhattan….I go to read the story of God’s redeeming love and grace as expressed on the canvases of the community there.

To be transformed, to be humbled and to be challenged by the writing hand of the Father.