Michael and Jessica moved in this week, and are staying for 1 year.
Mike is 32, from New Mexico, and is giving the rest of his life to missions.
Jess is 23, from Fargo, and is fresh out of the University of Nebraska...
Here is the new Outer Circle team picture.
From top to bottom (left to right): Claire, Michael, Paul, Mariah, Luke, Peanut, Jessica, and Courtney
As I grow in understanding the culture of the kids of Haight St., I see more and more that they are better known as ‘drifters’, ‘nomads’, and ‘pilgrims’ than they are just plain homeless. They don’t feel at home in America. They are looking for something different.
And know this: their way of life and culture is closer to Abraham’s, Moses’, and Jesus and his disciples’ lives than the stationary, wealthy, individualistic, and (boring?) culture of the majority of Western Chrisitanity.
“…having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.” Hebrews 11: 13-16
It is easier to convert someone to your own culture, and then introduce them to the Kingdom of God than it is to start with Jesus. “Therefore let us go to him (jesus on the margins?) outside the camp (mainstream culture?) and bear the reproach he endured. For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come.” Hebrews 13:13-14
This is from a great friend of ours who is doing time. He included this in a letter he wrote to us.
_____________________________________________________________
I wrote this after praying for my Street Family.
To Whom It May Concern:
It’s June 6, 2007 and I’ve just finished reading “Chicken Soup for the Prisoner’s Soul.” I was not disappointed in all of the stories in which I read. I’m sitting in San Quentin on a parole violation and for the first time I have been using this time to reprogram my self to look for the good in life rather than the bad. It’s not always easy to do in here where your race and muscle determine the level of your manhood. Where negativity is the most popular religion and violence is merely a tool in which we use to separate the weak from strong.
I always thought of myself as a badass before I was put in here. Even though this is my fourth visit I’ve changed in a lot of ways. I no longer see the world as those who are strong and those who are weak. Instead I see people who apply themselves to seek out solutions, and those who choose to cause problems. On a level 3 yard problem makers are the majority. Young kids come in here eager to prove their loyalty to what ever cause, even if it means senselessly killing another human being to gain that “respect”. I’ve met 18 year old kids who talk about getting their points high enough to graduate to a level 4 yard the way most college students talk about graduating college with a masters degree. This breaks my heart.
I also see people who enroll in school, or sign up to learn a trade they can use upon release. I see Lifers that will never see the outside world again encourage others to take parole planning courses to help them learn how to stay out of here. I’ve seen convicted murderers pray for God to use them to teach others not to use violence in order to gain “respect”. I’ve seen miracle upon miracle here in the depths of desperation and hopelessness.
What have I learned from these experiences? Life is what you make it and you are what you think. I’ve spent a lot of my life thinking I was stupid, mean, rebellious, violent, tough, above the law, and exempt from consequences of my behavior. Now I CHOOSE to see myself as loving, loveable, positive, peaceful, understanding, open minded, prayerful, and forgiven. I seek Jesus and try each day to respond to stressfull situations as if Jesus was standing next to me. I pray for the strength and wisdom as well as a forgiving heart. I pray to be a tool of light in this world of darkness.
I don’t know what the future holds for me but I know what it doesn’t hold. It doesn’t hold alcohol, drugs, violence, self-centerdness, hopelessness, or crime. Today I seek out people who live in the solution rather than bleed within the problem. It’s no longer what the world can give to me. Its what can I give to the world. I don’t care who you are, what race you are, what your sexual preference is, or what gang you belong to. I love you! And you are worth every blessing God longs to give you. But its up to you to reach out your hand to receive them.
Just a Forgiven Sinner,
............
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self control. Against such there is no law. And those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live in the Spirit let us also walk in the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking one another, or envying one another. Galatians 5:22-26
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.
For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Matt 11:28-30
i love the night on haight street.
it seems to bring out truth.
the farce of joy through drugs.
the lack of love in last nights partner.
the real questions of, "what am I doing here?"
when night hits the homeless friends i find left on the street are either so drunk they can't move or are so depressed they don't care.
that is when i see people who are open.and desperate no one is around to impress. they are simply there and sometimes ready for Jesus.
Picture for me a little blond haired boy, he just got into the city today, traveled all the way from the east coast, he is about 20 and looks like surfer. today he made a mistake in the park and dropped a needle. he got beat up 4 times for that today. his lip is bleeding. he didn't know better. they all look like they shoot up, but the truth is they just all hide it. "no needles in the park" is the street rule. he just didn't know it. now he is sitting on the side of the street crying into his big army surplus backpack hoping no one will notice and beat him up again and wondering what to do when his girlfriend arrives tomorrow. he is wanted back home for selling drugs so his mom bought him the ticket to the land of peace and love- Haight Ashbury. it was a long bus trip but he had made it and was excited to start his new life. well, that's all gone. he begins to cry again. "everything i have ever done has been screwed up!" he had met his girlfriend in the psych ward. he was there for heroin and she for cutting. smiling he had explained how they had helped each other get better and over come their addictions. he loved her. she understood him. he had been clean for 3 months, and the needle he dropped wasn't even his. "how will i be able to care for her here...everyone around here is so tough. there is no peace or love in san francisco. i can't do this. i can't even sleep in the park now that i was beat up. i don't know what to do. i am so tired. i just want to shoot up." he rolled over on the concrete and layed his head down on his backpack and then punched it. "i give up."
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.
For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Matt 11:28-30
We are
crying
sowing
weeping
scattering seed
Let us
reap
shout
joy
bring in sheaves
We are dreaming
You're restoring
We are laughing
You are moving
smoky haze
pipes of glass
hacking coughs
another pass
sacred herb
ganja treats
come bow before
a god that cheats
fading brain
glassy eyes
just cant move
believing lies
thief of life
slowly steals
clouding truth
of One that heals
great escape
forget pain
rich and poor
toke the same
Good Wind blow
fresh and clear
Cleansing One
please draw near
This is Sky...one of the most incredible guys I have ever met.
He loves Jesus, so much so that he has been living out God's call to him to live on the streets and minister to his brothers and sisters around him. Praise God.
growth, sun, san francisco I. Old waves sigh like farmers watching strip malls sprout from strawberry fields. Like farmers, each high tide remembers holding muddy earth in its hands, sowing among dunes and cliffs a peninsula. II. Once sowed, roots of a city planted on peninsula are bound between terra cotta pot sea walls. Growth is sunward, light a privilege forgotten by lead heavy blood pressed, pulsing through paved arteries of street life far below post card skylines. III. At the edge of Golden Gate Park a girl the streets call Little One, holds a potted baby rose blooming blood red. The rose, stolen earlier that morning, is a Valentine’s Day gift. Moving her face close to cupped petals she breathes in red bloom sweetness, growth, love for a moment, and says: “I think I’ll find a sunny spot and plant it.”
It's no surprise to me that street people start reconsidering their life choices in their mid-thirties. A flash of introspection happens at the magical turning from 29 to 30, but quickly fades. Later on, between 34 and 40, people start wondering if this is going to be it. A decade of heavy drinking, hard partying, camping on the streets, traveling by freight-train, and harassment by the cops: it's all a blast until that one day when you wake up bruised and vomit-covered at 35, and you wonder if there might be more to life.
In my years around this scene, all the major life decisions have happened during this vulnerable moment of conversion. When friends I know decided to wise up (and sober-up) and move in out of the park (often to live with us), it was often on or near a birthday in their mid-30's. That's when the contemplation moved to a deeper level . . . as if, somehow, the constant party had worn thin and they could picture, for the first time, the prospect of growing old this way.
It could easily be a mantra that we invest our lives in twenty-somethings so that they trust us when they become thirty-somethings.
When I was in college I met a girl who I wanted to be friends with. She was fun and had sparkles on her tennis shoes. We hung out at the new student retreat and were excited when we found out we shared a class. We sat by each other and passed notes and smiled our way through the first few weeks. One day early on she brought me a mango smoothie. No real reason, she just did. And I knew we were friends.
One day last summer I was talking to a girl I knew and someone came up and told her that her brother was here. That is how I met him. I was worried about his influence on his sister because he likes hard drugs a lot. He liked to dress all tough with a black leather jacket and brag about his habits. Today he called me. He is in the hospital. He wanted me to know he is ok. We got to talk for a while and laugh. I told him I would pray for him and asked what I could bring him aside from cigarettes (which I had already refused). He laughed. I am going to see him tomorrow and bring him a chocolate bar. No real reason, just cuz we are friends.
As God paints the canvas of the universe I focus on single bristles of the brush. Here is my bad day as a bristle, or here is the very essence of God's light as another bristle. Just bristle after bristle floating over a canvas that is forgotten with each breath.
However, as followers of Christ we are called to firmly plant our lives and worship in the brush of God, not the bristles. The bristles should only point us to the brush, and an understanding of the brush should be rooted in a trust of brushstrokes. These brushstrokes over a grand canvas become portraits of God's creative heart.
______
Ushered forward by the Holy Spirit, the divine masterpiece that you have been a part of hangs on the wall in front of you: your jaw drops to the floor and the electric pulse of creation jolts up your spine.
The canvas before you is so whole, so large, so complicated that you begin to understand the need for eternity. This is no afternoon visit to the art museum. Look up. The masterpiece covers the ceiling. Walking the streets, oily rain water on sidewalk becomes the canvas. Among the change at the bottom of a beggar's cup, you see the canvas.
This masterpiece, shining with brilliant color and composure, is showing up everywhere now. On your knees you reach out and touch the surface of the canvas. Only by the lightest running of your fingers over the paint can you feel the remnants of smoothly blended brushstrokes. There are no traces of the brush bristles now, just brushstrokes, masterpiece, and eternity to take it all in.
A couple Saturdays ago, my teammate Luke and I were walking through Golden Gate Park. Like usual, prayerfully asking God to guide our steps and enable us to connect with people and communicate his love. We came upon a big pile of street kids sitting on the hill in the sun, warming off the chill from the previous night. As Luke talked with some guys, I sat down next to ..., a 19 year old girl our whole team has been getting to know over the last month and a half. She sat on her skateboard, resourcefully patching the holes in her pants with scraps of fabric and dental floss for thread. We chatted as she sewed. When she finished patching a hole, there was a small piece of fabric left with no hole to cover. Most people would throw it away, but even the smallest scrap of fabric is useful when you where the same pair of pants every day. She gave the little one square inch piece of fuzzy leopard print fabric to me to sew on to my pants...a seemingly small gift, but very meaningful to me. I'm currently eyeing the holes in my jeans, determining which one is worthy to be adorned with her patch.
She had gone out for ice cream the night before with Luke & Courtney. She had had a rough evening and needed to talk so they treated her to ben & jerry's, talking over cookie dough about the many struggles of her life. I asked her if she had a good time etc. A few minutes later in the conversation, after thinking quietly for a few seconds, she looked at me and said, "You didn't get to go to ice cream last night and you really like ice cream. I have money today and as soon as I finish sewing these patches on, I want to take you out for ice cream." My empty pockets seemed to burn as I realized I had no money with me to pitch in, but I said okay. It was really precious to watch over the next hour or so her hospitality in hosting me and Luke for ice cream. It's better to give than to receive....and sometimes it's better to give someone the chance to give, that they might experience it's joy. I was blessed to see this girl, who has no earthly reason to trust or like anyone, treat us with much kindness. She asked if we would be okay with McDonald's because it wasn't very expensive. We said that was great. We told her to get one hot fudge sundae that all three of us could split. She bought two...and made sure we were enjoying it before she partook herself. When she spilled a few peanuts from the package and noticed the birds liked them...she poured a bunch out for the birds, because they should have some too. She made every effort to make sure that we were enjoying our ice cream, like any good hostess at a dinner party, even cleaning off the trash at our table as we sat. Jesus said when we do something unto the least of these, we've done it unto him....and I wonder, when the least of these does something for us, is Jesus giving us a gift? Oftentimes I come expecting to give, and God asks me to be ready to receive.
She has an incredibly sweet disposition after living through the hardships that she has. She has made many bad choices. But the choices she had to choose between and the choices I had to choose between were worlds apart. I am glad to serve a God who is sovereign and just, but who is near to the brokenhearted and whose heart is saddened by the profound pain in our world. It's not okay that she had the childhood she did and that the foster care system wasn't much of a help. As a girl so affected by her surroundings, it not okay that her surroundings have consistently been life-stealing rather life giving. The thief did indeed come to steal, kill and destroy and it is painful to see his theft, murder and destruction at work. But I rejoice that there is one who came that we might have abundant life, and that she might have abundant life. Please pray for her, that the longings within her she seeks to fill with boys, drugs, and the adventure of the open road...would be found fulfilled in the deep deep love of Christ. Grace that is far deeper than the depth of human sin and need. I long for she to hear the Father tell her that she is his daughter, that he has adopted her into his family and clothed her with robes of salvation and given her a new name. Pray that she would respond to God's pursuit of her and that the other things she pursues would be found lacking.
This week in Second Helping we studied chapter 14 of Genesis, when Abram rescues Lot and then meets the great Melchizedek.
We talked about how most of us identify more with Lot than with Abram's great faith; always making wrong choices and needing to be rescued over and over again. Unfortunately, we know that Lot will return to Sodom, and will need to be rescued again--seems that he just doesn't get it. But God is merciful, using his uncle Abram to rescue him time and again.
Paul writes in Ephesians 2 "And you were dead...But God, being rich in mercy...even when we were dead...made us alive together with Christ...by grace you have been saved"
God is a rescuer, a deliverer, a saver. Let us never forget that, even while we strive to be like Abram in faith, that we are still rescued like Lot, and that it is only God's mercy.
