Cosmic Search Party

"Happy Valentine's Day," said the man on the sidewalk as we walked past.

I paused. Was he homeless, or was he just being friendly? I couldn't tell, and I didn't want to offend him if I guessed wrong.

Guys, I think we need to go back. I think he was homeless-- I said to my teammates.
"What do we say?"
I don't know what to say, I told God. Can you give us the right words?

"You are about to participate in a cosmic search party," Josiah (the man leading the training) had said. "God is inviting you to go out to those streets and find the one that he's looking for.... leave the 99, and go look for the one." Don't Walk By is an annual street outreach during which volunteers canvas all of Manhattan, looking for men and women living on the streets who might need a meal, medical attention, or other help. I showed up thinking I was participating in an outreach; I learned that I got to be part of God's search party.

I don't know if you've ever had the experience of looking for someone who was lost. I hope for your sake you haven't and that you never have to. This fall one of my kids was missing, and I spent three of the scariest days of my life looking for her. If I could have gotten people to hold hands with me and canvas every inch of New York City with me, I would have. That image flashed into my mind when Josiah invited us to join God's search party. God was inviting us to search with the same earnestness that I had felt looking for that girl in the fall.

Hi sir, would you like a hot meal? 
"I just want to wish you a Happy Valentine's Day. I don't want to hurt anyone. I'm telling you the truth."
I know sir; we just thought you might like to be warm.... Would you like to come get a hot meal and a bed for tonight?
"I'm Carolyn. What's your name?" -- said my teammate.
"William. William Banks," he replied.

We stood there with William for the next half hour, talking to him while we waited for the transport team to take him to the anchor church for a hot meal and medical attention. We learned that he used to be a chef until he had an accident that cost him the use of his left hand. Cooking was his passion, but he can't do it anymore and has yet to find work that he can do. A half hour later, we helped him into the transport van and they drove him off to the church. As we started to close the van door, he paused--

"Ladies?" he said.
Yes? -- and he looked us in the eyes.
"Happy Valentine's Day."

**
We saw William back at the church. He was sitting at a table with hot food in front of him, and he was going to get medical help as soon as he finished eating. I hope he is in a warm bed even as I type this.

God, thank you for letting us be part of your cosmic search party. Thank you that you wanted us to meet William tonight, and that you were just as happy as we were when he came back to the church with us. Please keep him safe, and please let this be the first step he takes toward a new life and a new personal relationship with you. Thank you for the reminder on this Valentine's Day that you love each of your children that bear your image-- whether they live in a penthouse on Fifth Avenue or on a street corner in East Harlem. Help us to have this attitude every time we go out, that we'd participate in your cosmic search party that longs to extend your love to the poor and vulnerable we walk past every day. Amen.

The Least of These

I have off from work this week. For the whole week. As in, I didn't have to go to work yesterday or today, and I don't have to go to work tomorrow or the day after that or the day after that. Life. Is. Good. I love my job, but it's exhausting. And boy, am I ready for some R&R.

And then today as I was moseying around the city on my self-imposed staycation, I texted Gretchen who is now working at the same organization as me. She didn't have off this week, poor girl. And not only that, but her day was going horribly. Her volunteers didn't show up and she was trying to prep dinner for 300 people by herself. So I did exactly what she would have done had our roles been reversed-- I got on the subway and went to help cook!

She thought they hadn't shown up for cooking but that they'd come for serving the meal, but for whatever reason, they didn't. She told me I could leave, but she said it with that "unless you want to stay and help" that always suckers me in. And so I served my first meal at the Bowery's soup kitchen. I've worked in a different part of the organization for over four years now, and it was the first time I've gotten to participate in this side of things.

When you stand behind the foodline to serve the guests, you look out to the dining room. There's a saying painted over that doorway that says, "Serve like you are serving a King." I kept catching a glimpse of it and then looking at the faces across from me holding their plates out for the salad I was in charge of serving. And with each person, I would hear "in as much as you did for the least of these, you did it for me" going through my head.

Some of the people that came through the line looked just like me. You wouldn't think they'd need a free meal. Others obviously hadn't showered for days or were under various influences. I served a few kids, and my heart hurt for them in a whole different way. But it didn't matter if they were smelly or clean or rude or polite or thankful or picky.... Jesus cared about each person I served tonight (and the ones who wouldn't take my salad, too!). After each person went through the line, He said, "thanks for feeding me tonight and for making me feel welcome and safe here."

It wasn't quite the day off I was expecting, but I got to help serve almost 300 kings tonight as we served The King with each meal we gave to "the least of these." And that's kind of hard to beat.

Without You I Wouldn't Have a Voice

I have words for everything. My staff makes fun of me for using big words that no one else knows. (I tell them "I'm expanding your vocabulary-- you're welcome.") I write to make sense of things that don't make sense. Words are my healing balm. And yet, I don't have words for this today and right now. Not because there aren't words, but because I can't find them. Nothing seems adequate. Words don't express the thoughts, the emotions, the fears that are coursing through my mind and heart. It feels like any actual words will trivialize the depth of what I'm feeling, like something will get lost in the translation and will erase the validity of my experience.

I've learned that being speechless is one of the most defeating feelings because it makes you even lonelier. I heard a subway performer recently, after presenting his spoken word piece, who said, "Thank you for listening, because without you I wouldn't have a voice." I thought then how terrible it would be to be mute-- if you couldn't communicate with those around you. But what happens if you're not mute but you still can't be heard... What happens if you take a risk, use your voice, and it falls on ears that didn't really listen? What if you find out that what you're saying can't actually be heard by the people you love the most? What if, when you try to use words, you find out that you don't actually have a voice...

I'm thankful that even as I write this, the Proverb comes to mind that says "Speak up for those who have no voice" (31:8) because it reminds me that God cares about the speechless too. That he hears the cries of my heart when I have no words to articulate the feelings. That Jesus is telling God what I need even right now, when I can't find the words to tell him myself.

Growing Out and Growing In

I've been MIA for a while now. Apologies to all you blog readers who anxiously check every day waiting-- breathlessly, no doubt-- for a new blog post to appear. And for a whole year now, you've been disappointed. And I'm sorry for that.

If it makes you feel any better, I've missed it too. It's not that I haven't had things going on inside my head; it's more that I haven't been able to figure out how to get them out of my head and into any sort of coherent word formation. But I've underestimated how much blogging helps make life feel coherent-- there's something therapeutic about it. I remember when I first moved to New York and nothing made any sense-- I remember when I walked around the city and desperately looked for something (anything!) that would give me a clue to where the pieces of the puzzle were supposed to go. And I found clues and new pieces to the puzzle that I didn't even know existed. This blog helped me make sense of those as I turned them over and over again and tried to figure out what they meant and how they fit and how to cope with the insanity of this puzzle we call life.

I wish I had a neat update to give. How I've finished my puzzle and achieved lasting joy and contentment in the process. I wish I could tell you that I never struggle with doubt or fear or insecurity anymore-- that I never question God or his goodness and care for me anymore, and that since he's been so faithful to me in the past I'm always unfailingly confident in his faithfulness in the future. But alas, the puzzle's still not finished, and I'm still human.

This year has been more of the same. I've had my heart broken-- again. I've questioned God-- again. I've felt abandoned and alone-- again. And maybe that's why I haven't blogged about it. I want to be able to say I've conquered these things or grown out of them. But I'm realizing it's okay that I haven't grown out of them, because I'm growing in them. I've had my heart broken, but I'm still capable of love. I still question God, but now that looks like asking him questions to his face and having real and honest conversations with him about the things I don't understand. I've felt abandoned and alone, but that's one of the things I talk to God about too; because the feeling doesn't have to be the reality.

So I just wanted to let you know, I'm back. Maybe not as frequently as I was before; but I need this blog. I need to process the things God is showing me throughout the days here in NYC. Early on I wrote about the similarities between blogging and photography, because both make you look for beauty in the ordinary. I haven't been good about taking pictures lately, and I haven't been good about blogging. As a result, I've stopped seeing the beauty all around me. And that's just not okay.

Steadfast Consolations

I wish I had something profound to write. So many thoughts spinning through my mind, and I can't make sense of any of them. But this verse comes to mind, again and again....

"When the cares of my heart are many,
your consolations cheer my soul" (Psalm 94:19).

Tonight I am thankful for a God who holds me up with his steadfast love (v. 18) when my foot slips and my heart is anxious. I am thankful for friends and family that love me. I am thankful for a place to call home, even when my heart can't decide where home really is. So maybe instead I should say that I am thankful for many places to call home. And I am thankful for frequent reminders that I don't have to bear the cares of my heart alone.

Sleep well, friends.

Lessons from the Learners (Part One of Many, I'm sure)

Background: If you remember our month of outreaches in March (affectionately referred to as "March Madness"), you'll remember that we partnered with New York City Urban Project (NYCUP), part of InterVarsity. Well, this summer we're partnering with them again for their Summer Immersion Project, and as a result of that I have a team of six awesome interns! They're here to serve and to learn, but I'm already learning loads from them...

Today's lesson:

God doesn't just love me. He likes me, too.

Mind = blown. Think about it for a while.

I hope it encourages you as much as it encouraged me.

No Doubt about It!

"No doubt about it: children are a gift from the Lord" (Psalm 127:3).

One of our team members read this verse today during our debrief, and I heard it differently than I ever have before. To be honest, I think every other time I've read it or heard it I've thought, yeah, a gift I'm missing out on because I don't have children of my own. But today I thought, they really are. Thank you, God, that I get to work with this most precious gift all the time.

This month has been awesome. Tiring, hard, exhausting, emotional-- yes. But bottom line, it has been absolutely awesomely incredible. Each week has had its own highlights and its own challenges, but this fourth and final week was unlike any of the others on so many levels. We went into it knowing some of the challenges: we'd be short-staffed on Monday, we wouldn't be allowed to talk about Jesus, and the children we'd be serving would be some of the most at-risk kids we'd seen all month. But we couldn't have known the highlights, and we definitely couldn't have known how most of those highlights would be because of the challenges.

- The extra program day on Monday allowed Isaac, Danielle, and me to take more active roles in leading groups and activities. Leading groups meant that we got to know the kids better than we would have otherwise, and it was a blessing to each of us personally to watch those relationships grow throughout the week. I think that our personal connection to specific kids gave us extra energy and enthusiasm for our final week.

- I asked our volunteers how it had been for them not being allowed to speak about Jesus. They said they'd been struck by how much easier it is to talk about Jesus than it is to act like him-- and that they'd learned so much more about him in the process.

- We had braced ourselves for the challenges of working with kids in or at risk of being placed in foster care. We expected behavior issues and anger issues. But I don't think any of us expected kids who loved to be loved and loved to love back so readily and enthusiastically.

Today was the last day of "Brain Camp" (the program at the school). All week we've wondered what the school thought of our program. Today the vice principal came up to me and said "would you keep us in mind to do this again next year??" Oh lady, you have no idea how much we were hoping you'd say that!

We invited the kids to come to Padre Plaza tomorrow. I drew maps for every kid in the red group because they were so concerned that their parents might not let them come if they didn't know exactly where it was. I'm nervous that their parents still might not let them come. Pray with us that their parents will bring them, that they will come, that they will hear about Jesus, that they'll sign up to come to camp, that this will be the beginning of a long-term relationship with Jesus and with us.

There's another verse in the same chapter that says "Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders' work is pointless" (v 1). That's been so true of our March Madness month. He's shown us again and again that he's in this, that he has been building this outreach and building the relationships with these children. We serve a big God. So we're asking him big things. Can you ask him with us? There's no doubt about it that he loves these kids even more than we do-- and that's saying a lot!