FAT Christians

"What we need is some FAT Christians," says Jonathan-- pretty much on repeat during NYCUP. "Flexible. Adaptable. Teachable. FAT."

And when you're working with 50 college students in East Harlem or the South Bronx and things like bad weather, gang fights, and sickness happen, you realize how right he is.

It's Week 3. Ready, go! Or..... not so fast.... We're supposed to be outside this week, back at Padre Plaza in the South Bronx. But the forecast was 100% chance of rain as of yesterday, and we had to decide to cancel today's program or go for it. So Jonathan planned a LOGOFF (Local, Green, Organic, Fair, Free) scavenger hunt for some of the students, and the other thirty-five students were going to work with us to get everything in order for the rest of the week.

At least that's how I had understood the conversation. But I'm learning that not everyone thinks the way I do, and when I don't double check, sometimes I get part way through the day and find out that we've been thinking different things all along. Today I made this discovery as all but four of the college students filed past me excited to head out for their scavenger hunt.

Oops.

I found Jonathan and we quickly figured out that we'd been talking about different things each time we'd touched base about the plans for the afternoon. And the four remaining college students were standing at attention, ready for instructions about what they were supposed to do.... Yet everything I had planned for them required a lot more than four people to participate.

Flexible. 
Adaptable. 
Teachable. 

Even when you happen to be a Type A personality who likes nothing more than to have all her ducks in a row on the first day of an outreach. Some lessons are harder to learn than others. But sometimes it's good to test exactly how FAT you really can be.

Uncomfortable Heartbreak

If I'm honest, I often feel inadequate for the work that I've been called to do. I encounter a lot of need, and it's really hard for me to know that I can't meet all the need that I see. I know-- it's not up to me. But that doesn't change that I want to be able to fix the brokenness I see; and I struggle every time I realize how much I can't.

This week was no exception. As you know, I was pretty discouraged by our initial numbers. I was sure I'd read things wrong, that it had been a mistake to hold one of our outreaches in East Harlem. God, why did I think you were leading me to this? Did I misunderstand what you were telling me to do?-- kept going through my head.

And then as you know, kids started whining for camp. And on Thursday, God encouraged me by sending us 32 kids.

On Friday, he overwhelmed me by sending us 61 kids.

That's right. 61! They just kept coming. Eleanor and I were running registration, and we could barely keep up with the stream of kids coming through the door. And with the kids came parents who couldn't understand why we were only going to be there for one week. One mother made herself comfortable on the chair next to our table and proceeded to ask who she had to petition for us to make this camp a permanent thing. Other mothers joined their voices to hers, asking what they had to do to get us to stay. I had to keep telling them that we were working on it but that we couldn't start a permanent program in East Harlem just yet. And they kept telling me that I just didn't understand. One mom said, "Please, I need someone to teach my daughter more than 'bang, bang, shoot 'em up.'"

That's hard to argue with.

In fact, I can't argue with it. She's totally right. And my heart started to crack.

On Friday at 5pm, those 61 kids started streaming out the door, waving their Certificates of Participation and smiling like they'd just won the hugest prize. I watched from behind the registration table as hugs were exchanged, wishing so badly I could tell them "See you on Monday!"-- but knowing I couldn't. My heart cracked a little bit more.

And then the tears started. Not mine (those would come later), but from one of the little boys. Tears, sobs, wails. It didn't take me long to find the source of the misery; he was getting louder and louder. He had been upset the day before, too, and I'd held him until he stopped crying. But that day he wouldn't calm down even when I was holding him. He just kept getting more and more upset. His dad stood awkwardly next to him, making no effort to console him. The boy cried on, and the crack in my heart grew.

Shh, it's okay. You'll be okay. Don't be sad. -- I whispered softly in his ear. He kept crying, sobbing, wailing.

Shhh. Shhh. It's okay. You had fun. It's time to go home. Shhh. -- Now he was screaming and clinging to me.

Jesus loves you so much. -- He whimpered and wrapped his arms tighter around my neck.

You're gonna be okay. Here's your coat.... -- and he threw himself back and started screaming again.

It's okay.... shhh.... Jesus loves you. Jesus, be with him. Let him know how much you love him. -- and he whimpered again and relaxed in my arms, though tears were still streaming down his face. And my heart broke completely.

I wiped the tears from his cheeks and helped him put on his coat. I hugged him tightly and whispered one last time "Jesus loves you so, so much" before he left with his dad.

We're only halfway through this month, but I'm learning a lot. I'm learning that it's okay not to have all the answers, that it's okay to sit in discomfort for a while and to wrestle with God about things that don't make sense. So I'll say it-- this week didn't make sense to me, and I'm wrestling with God about it.

So much need, and I don't understand what my role should be in meeting any of it. So much hurt, so much pain. I know I'm not the answer, but sometimes the need is so overwhelming that I don't even know how to tell them about the answer. I feel like I gave that community a glimpse of what could be and, in the process, made their hurt that much worse. And then there's this little boy who took a piece of my heart with him when he left wailing and sobbing. I know enough to know that something's very wrong with that picture; but I don't know enough to know what to do about it. I know God's heart breaks too, but I don't understand why he doesn't do something about it.

I've always loved the line in the song that says "Break my heart for what breaks yours"-- but as I sat at our closing prayer meeting on Friday night with tears streaming down my face, I thought God, I can't handle this. I can't handle my heart breaking for everything that breaks your heart. I'm just not strong enough to deal with all this pain and injustice.

This is the part where I'm supposed to wrap up neatly with some Bible verse that makes it all okay and makes sense of everything. But I'm going to sit in the discomfort for now, because I haven't found a Bible verse that makes any of this feel like it's okay. If you have one, feel free to share it with me. In the meantime, pray for the hurting hearts and those of us whose hearts are breaking as we try to serve them.

Whining for Camp

(It's late. I'm beat. And I have to be up early tomorrow. But I want to share this brief snapshot.....)

This week has been hard. I don't really know what else to call it. We've been inside again, so recruiting has been a challenge. You might remember how discouraged I was last week when we started with four kids. I thought it couldn't get worse than that. Really God? Do you have a cruel sense of humor? I mean, what else was I supposed to think when we had one kid an hour into our first day of camp? One kid. Twenty-seven volunteers and one kid. One. Not one hundred. One. Singular.

I wasn't the only one who was discouraged, but I was the one responsible for everyone else's discouragement. And I realize I'm biased, but I think that's worse.

So yeah, this week has been hard. Yesterday the majority of our volunteers got pulled to another project, and we faced a whole new set of challenges. Energy was dragging, enthusiasm was low. Discouragement, on the other hand, was running high.

Awesome.

We regrouped today. We prayed specific prayers. We talked about the importance of being excited for the kids. We prayed that we'd encounter Jesus. We begged God to send us kids.

He did. 32 of them. And when we debriefed at the end of the day, one of the college students said, "The other day Lud prayed a creative prayer. She said, 'God, would you make these kids whine so much about wanting to come to camp that their mom finally gives up and lets them come?' I didn't think much of it, but today there was a mom who brought her two daughters upstairs. I asked her how she found out about the camp, and she said, 'We got a flyer a couple days ago, but I threw it away. I got another flyer today, and my daughters saw it and whined so much that I finally gave up and brought them.'"

My eyes filled with tears. Because not only was it an awesome account of a specific answer to prayer, but it was also a much-needed reminder to ask him for specific things. Because I can't faze him by asking for something to big or too specific. He's in the small stuff. And it's all small stuff.

Deja Vu, NYCUP Style!

It's NYCUP, Week 2! The next round of college students arrived this afternoon, and our second outreach begins tomorrow! It's supposed to rain tomorrow and be cold later this week, so we're indoors once again. Thank you, Lord, that we have a space to hold it inside this week. This week's event is in East Harlem, and we have a couple special guests who have joined us for the festivities. Tim is an intern from Germany who will be with us for this week and next week; Eleanor is from last year's original Padre Plaza team and is spending her spring break with us to help out!

The students did a prayer walk in the neighborhood tonight and started handing out some of the flyers. They said people were excited; and I think it made them start to get excited, too!

So here we go again! Prayers appreciated.... and oh, so needed!

I Saw Jesus

One of the best parts of our debriefing session each day after camp is the part where the college students answer "Where did you see Jesus today?" And then they go around and say where they saw Jesus in their teammates. I said one today, but I didn't want to hog the conversation. So I thought I'd put my list here. That way you can be encouraged, too, about all the ways Jesus showed up in our midst today.

I saw Jesus...
... in Josh when he helped the kids who came in late open their water bottles and bags of Cheez-its
... in Brenna when she had endless enthusiasm and joy about recruiting outside even though it was frigid and windy outside.
... in Isaac when he sang his heart out-- and lost what was remaining of his voice.
... in Garrett when he lit up when the little boys from yesterday came back again today and ran straight for him.
... in Dan when he pitched in and helped set up chairs even though he technically was just there to observe.
... in Vianne and Heather when they took pride in their task of registration and went the extra mile to make sure we had a good record of each kid that came to our program.
... in Molly when she showed love to Tina so much that this girl who came to us scared and fragile returned today laughing and smiling about being there.
... in Hunter when he talked about how much he was blessed by interacting with the people from the community.

I prayed to encounter Jesus today. And I did. He looked an awful lot like a bunch of college students from Virginia.

Upside Down Ratio

"Upside Down" is the theme of our camps this month-- showing how Jesus turned worldly wisdom upside down and did things differently.

Well, today was Day 1 of Week 1. And our ratio of kids to adults was upside down, too. When we started we had 36 leaders. And 6 kids. So much for that goal of 4:1, kids to adults; we were 1:6. And I was discouraged.

I want to say that there was a great moment in there of surrender and faith. And that God showed up in huge ways and suddenly we had 100 kids. But that didn't happen. I got discouraged, and I felt guilty. For not having advertised more, for deciding to do it inside where we were less visible (it was sunny today, but I'd had to make the call earlier in the week), for not praying more and praying harder.

I want to say that several hours later, on this side of it, that I can look back and see what God was trying to teach me in that moment. But tonight after camp I had to lead a mentor training for my current mentor staff. We were talking about suffering and how God enters into our suffering-- into every aspect of our lives-- no matter how major or minor we (or others) might think it is. And what we kept coming back to was the importance of being honest with God in those moments. When we have the answers or we don't have the answers. When our hearts are full of praise or our hearts are full of questions and doubts.

It did get a little better... Eleven more kids came by the end; we had 17 kids total to go with our 36 adults. But if I'm really honest-- with myself, with you, with God-- tonight my heart is still full of questions and doubts; and I don't have any answers. I wonder if it's a mistake that we thought we could pull four of these camps off. I wonder if I should have done something differently in the planning. I wonder if I should have prayed differently or prayed better or prayed harder. The college students around me didn't seem discouraged in the least, and somehow that made me feel even worse. It makes me wonder if I'm even the right person for this; if my faith just isn't strong enough for the task at hand.

So there it is. My honest feelings at the end of my second 15-hour day. Unpolished and unglamified (is that even a word??) so you can know how to pray for me at this stage of this Month o' Madness. Tomorrow I'm sure we'll have more kids. And that's exciting to me, but it scares me somehow too. I don't want my faith to be dependent just on how many kids show up. One of my prayers leading up to this has been that all of us adults will encounter God-- that we'll know God is with us and that we'll experience him in whole new ways. That our joy and sense of his presence will be the same if we have 6 kids or if we have 60. That I won't feel guilty or inadequate because the outreach doesn't meet my standard of success, but that I'll find joy in the privilege of participating in what God is doing in these neighborhoods.

Blessed with Anger and Tears

March Madness started today (NYCUP style-- not the basketball type). College students from James Madison University arrived in East Harlem, ready to run our kids camp in the South Bronx starting tomorrow!

Tonight we had an all-too-stark reminder of the need for God's gospel to penetrate these neighborhoods. When the students were walking around and praying for the neighborhood, a group of them encountered a man viciously beating his wife. Cops came and arrested him, but (understandably!) it shook the students up quite a bit to see this kind of violence and injustice firsthand.

NYCUP has certain prayers that they pray together through every session they do. This benediction has been one of my favorites since the first time I heard it, but tonight it struck me in a new way.

May God bless you with discomfort
At easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships,
So that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger
At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people,
So that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.

May God bless you with tears to shed for those who 
Suffer pain, rejection, hunger, and war.
So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and to turn their pain to joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness
To believe that you can make a difference in the world,
So that you can do what other claim cannot be done,
To bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor.

When Jonathan prayed this over us at the end of the time tonight, I really appreciated the reminder that God was angry tonight, too. And he cried tonight, too. When that man was beating his wife, God wept because that's not justice. That's not the way he intended his world to be. He sent his Son into this world to redeem situations like that-- to see his kingdom come on this earth. So when we encounter those who are oppressed or suffering, it's okay to be angry and sad. God is too. But it's also okay to be hopeful-- what the world might call foolish-- that change can come. That justice and kindness can come, because that's the way he taught us to pray, isn't it?

"Thy kingdom come, thy will be done-- on earth as it is in heaven."