I'm reeling today...with thankfulness. Yesterday was filled with events that allowed me to see again the hand of God working through people, touching lives in some special ways.
The first event took place (actually, it culminated) during the afternoon. The local 7-11 down the street from the church had been conducting a canned food drive for our Pantry ministry the last couple of weeks. It was one of those "Bring a can, get a free hot dog" kind of thing. And they got rid of a lot of dogs! The owner, a gracious man named Ranji (on left, wearing turban), asked if I could come to receive the cans and join in the festivities. Ranji is generous and wanted to give back to the community. He decided to hook up with us because he knew that we provide food regularly to people in need.
When I got to the 7-11 parking lot, people were everywhere, and plastic tubs of food were piled high. A DJ spun music at an extremely high decibel level, a jumper consumed small children, and free food and soft drinks were being devoured everywhere. Ranji hugged me as he excitedly showed me the food that had been collected. Kids kept arriving with more cans, and the inside of the store was as full of people as the outside.
Ranji told me that his dream was to see the community helping its own, and that he wanted to develop an ongoing partnership with us. As I mingled with people, I was reminded that there really is only one race on earth, the human race. That we have the ability to lift each other, strengthen each other and make a difference in each other's lives. And I saw again the great value of a church that is connected with those around it. Our involvement with people at basic life levels helps them understand God's concern for them, and gives us a platform to continue sharing life with them.
A short while later we gathered at the church for our monthly Community Supper. November's Supper is special, as we serve a full Thanksgiving dinner, thanks to the generous donations of our congregation. The evening was outstanding as more than 200 from the community arrived to a special set-up in the main auditorium. Scrumptious dinners were served by almost 100 volunteers from the church. Lots of sharing, lots of interaction, lots of connection. And everyone was thankful. Very thankful. One woman told me upon her arrival that she was so lonely. At the end of the evening she assured me that loneliness was no longer an immediate concern.
My heart's full. People giving their possessions for strangers. People giving their time in service. People giving their lives for others. And I'm thankful as I see so many blessings around me. It's easy to become cynical in my world, and much of what I see and experience has the capability to color it with some pretty ugly hues. But Friday reminded me that good blossoms in even the grayest of situations, and that people have the ability to do good when need presents itself. And why not? It goes back to image in which we were made, doesn't it? That image is a good one, always initiating, always giving, always blessing, always connecting. And that gives me hope.
And it makes me thankful.
I visited a neighborhood not long ago where crime is rampant. Several houses in the community were boarded up, some of them burned out, and most tagged with graffiti. No one is on the streets after dark because the possibility of trouble with local gangs is so likely. Tennis shoes and blue or red bandannas adorn telephone wires throughout. The two primary gangs vying for control? Crips and Bloods, of course. Alcohol and drugs are a staple for adults and kids alike. Abuse of all kinds is a regular part of life, especially among the youth. Unemployment is far too high, most residents exist in survival mode, and the concept of hope is almost nonexistent.
If you were to guess where I visited, you might have thought of Detroit, Chicago, or New York. The urban issues I witnessed are common in cities like Atlanta, St. Louis or Dallas. But I was close to home than these places...and not nearly as urban. My destination was the San Carlos Apache Reservation (via Arizona Reservation Ministry) outside the town of Globe in eastern Arizona. I've been to this place many times, and each visit overwhelms my sensibilities. So much despair, so much struggle, and so much destruction of human life and possibility. And the other factor that never ceases to astound me is the existence of the complex urban issues that seem so out of place here.
All this makes ministry here doubly difficult. Not only do workers need to understand Native American (and Apache, specifically) culture well, but they must also know how to deal with urban culture, and all the facets associated with it. Either one of these is a full-time undertaking, but this is one place that both must be carefully considered.
In all this challenge, our team witnessed hope. Many of the kids with whom ARM works were different than they used to be. They were responsive, positive, polite and expressive. They interacted with us more deeply than they would have a couple of years ago. They were smiling, laughing, enjoying. As simple as these things are to us, they can be major accomplishments for those of San Carlos. And we were encouraged.
So the next time you think about urban ministry, see tagging along a wall, or shoes dangling from a wire, remember that urban doesn't just happen in cities anymore. That there are kids struggling to survive mean rural streets that are teeming with urban challenges. And that we need people willing to commit their lives to understanding multiple cultures all wrapped up in the same neighborhood. It's a crazy world.
And it's getting crazier all the time.
Early this morning I made my way to the location allocated to receive my vote. I considered it a landmark occasion, not because there are so many important people and issues up for consideration, but because I'm afforded the right, the responsibility of the vote.
I grumbled under my breath at what I considered to be poor marking to find the voting area, thinking how it might have been made better. I then discovered that I was listed as a mail-in ballot person, which would have been fine except that I never received any ballot by mail. There was a provision for that, but it was quickly obvious that the workers were unfamiliar with the process. Heck, it was early and they were volunteers, and I grumbled a little more.
I cast my ballot (computerized now- cool), turned in some paperwork (part of that special provision), pasted my sticker proudly on my chest and beat a hasty retreat to the rest of my day. Pretty simple, pretty straightforward, pretty easy. But then I thought of people in countries like the Philippines who are willing to risk their lives for the vote. During our years there, school teachers were usually required to stand guard over local ballot boxes. Often, because of violence and corruption, those teachers gave their lives to protect the votes. In some countries, goons wait outside voting areas, seeking to intimidate, injure or even kill those who come to vote. And in far too many countries voting is not even an option. Hmmm, why had I been grumbling again?
I'm concerned that we too easily assume that our vote means nothing, or that the hassle somehow isn't worth our time or effort. I can't believe that those who risk or give their lives for this privilege would find our excuses compelling. I hope you made time to exercise your responsibility. And if you didn't (for whatever reason) that you'll commit now to do it next time. Really. If not for your voice to be heard, then because you'll remember that someone somewhere in this world wishes he had it as good as you when he steps into that voting booth. Or that she's willing to take a chance with her life because the ability to vote is as precious as life itself.
And she probably doesn't even grumble.
The first event took place (actually, it culminated) during the afternoon. The local 7-11 down the street from the church had been conducting a canned food drive for our Pantry ministry the last couple of weeks. It was one of those "Bring a can, get a free hot dog" kind of thing. And they got rid of a lot of dogs! The owner, a gracious man named Ranji (on left, wearing turban), asked if I could come to receive the cans and join in the festivities. Ranji is generous and wanted to give back to the community. He decided to hook up with us because he knew that we provide food regularly to people in need.
When I got to the 7-11 parking lot, people were everywhere, and plastic tubs of food were piled high. A DJ spun music at an extremely high decibel level, a jumper consumed small children, and free food and soft drinks were being devoured everywhere. Ranji hugged me as he excitedly showed me the food that had been collected. Kids kept arriving with more cans, and the inside of the store was as full of people as the outside.
Ranji told me that his dream was to see the community helping its own, and that he wanted to develop an ongoing partnership with us. As I mingled with people, I was reminded that there really is only one race on earth, the human race. That we have the ability to lift each other, strengthen each other and make a difference in each other's lives. And I saw again the great value of a church that is connected with those around it. Our involvement with people at basic life levels helps them understand God's concern for them, and gives us a platform to continue sharing life with them.
A short while later we gathered at the church for our monthly Community Supper. November's Supper is special, as we serve a full Thanksgiving dinner, thanks to the generous donations of our congregation. The evening was outstanding as more than 200 from the community arrived to a special set-up in the main auditorium. Scrumptious dinners were served by almost 100 volunteers from the church. Lots of sharing, lots of interaction, lots of connection. And everyone was thankful. Very thankful. One woman told me upon her arrival that she was so lonely. At the end of the evening she assured me that loneliness was no longer an immediate concern.
