Unwanted or Welcome?

I take it for granted all too often, but I'm blessed to have parents who understand my calling to work with inner city kids. I realize this blessing usually when I see the look in people's eyes as I explain what I do or the neighborhoods I sometimes spend time in. Those same people usually ask hesitantly, "How do your parents feel about this??" and I can look them in the eye and say confidently, "They are fully supportive." And I want to explain to them how my parents understand that, ultimately, I'm just as safe on a street corner in the South Bronx as I am on a porch in the middle of suburban Maryland. Because whether I'm in the South Bronx or South Philly or England or Maryland or Haiti, Jesus holds my life in his hands. And he loves me even more than my parents do. And that's saying a whole lot.

I've said all that because some of you might be concerned when you read the rest of this story. Don't worry, I'm even going to call my 'rents before I post this story so they don't have to learn about it on my blog. But it's kind of cool, isn't it, that I know they aren't going to encourage me to start looking for a different line of work or tell me to pull the plug on this ministry? Don't get me wrong; I'm sure they're going to pray even harder for our safety. They'll probably urge me to be careful and not to walk alone. But they know, as I know, that Jesus holds my life in his hands.

I tell myself that all the time, but I'll still admit that today made me a little nervous.

A couple saw Isaac setting up our sound equipment today. Isaac had gone ahead with a couple of the guys to start setting up before the rest of the team arrived. We're not really sure what made this couple so angry-- if they'd seen us there before or if they were just making assumptions about what we were there to do. But whatever sparked it, they were less than happy to see Isaac and the other guys preparing for our event. They told him that we weren't welcome in the community, and they told him we'd better watch ourselves lest we end up with a bullet in the head. After a few more curses and racial slurs, they eventually left when they didn't get a reaction from Isaac.

When Danielle and I arrived with the rest of the group a few minutes later, Isaac was still a little shaken. When he told Danielle and me what had happened, we were a little shaken, too. I'm not just responsible for myself anymore. Am I putting these other people in danger? kept going through my head; and I started looking at passers-by with suspicion and fear that I just haven't felt before.

As Isaac processed what had just happened, he saw a dad standing on the edges of the park. This dad, Ralph, had brought his daughter for the second day and was standing there happily watching her play with the volunteers and other children. Isaac struck up a conversation with him, asking what he thought. Were we hurting rather than helping? Were we meeting a need at all? Or were we somehow being selfish and just making ourselves feel better at others' expense?

Ralph's response was reassuring to all of us. He told Isaac his own story, told what the neighborhood had been like over the past 30 years he'd lived there, and told him that he was so, so thankful that we were there to provide this camp for the kids. Isaac thanked him and explained how grateful he was for the conversation. "No," Ralph said, "I'm the one who is blessed to have met all of you."

I don't know about that; but we were blessed by Ralph today. We told Mike (who runs Padre Plaza) about the first incident, and he reminded us of his favorite truth: "when the light turns yellow, you can step on the brake or step on the gas!" He reminded us that there will be opposition wherever we go, and the test is whether we're going to back down or keep trusting Jesus.

He's right. South Bronx, South Philly, England, Maryland, Haiti. There will always be opposition. And I'm not immune. I know I'm where God wants me; but I get scared, too. And now that I'm responsible for other people, I feel a certain weight that hasn't been there before. But Jesus holds my life (all of our lives!) in his hands and asks me (us!) to trust him. And I do. Imperfectly at times, but those are the times I'm most thankful for friends to hold up my arms. So pray for us. Pray for our ministry. Pray for our effectiveness. Pray for our safety. And pray for our faith. Because I think that Satan would like that to be shaken more than anything else, and if we lose our faith in God's love and protection over us, we'll know fear in whole new ways.

(P.S. I just got off the phone with my 'rents, and I was right. My dad said "Maybe this is just proof that you guys need to be there all the time"; and my mom said "It's a good reminder to pray for your safety." So like I said, I'm blessed that my parents not only understand my calling but are also part of the team that holds up my arms!)