The Best In You

“When we seek to discover the best in others, we somehow bring out the best in ourselves.”

-William Arthur Ward

              Over the past few weeks, I’ve been working hard to intentionally help the students at the rec. center to become stronger readers. I’ve made individual plans for each of them, and have been tracking their progress so as to better help me evaluate how I can help them best. We’re still in the beginning stages, and so it’s often a struggle with some of them. Most are still learning to read, which, in case you’ve forgotten over the years, is extremely hard and frustrating when you’re just beginning.

              We’ve been coming every week since the start of the school year, and so my heart has grown quite attached to each kid. I wholeheartedly want the best for each of them. Playing games with them and listening to their stories brings me so much joy. Laughing a dancing with them are always highlights. I want to be a part of their happiness, but because I care about them, I also want to be a part of their struggle. I want to enter into their process and fight to overcome, even when they don’t want to.

              However, part of wanting the best for someone, especially when they are fighting against it, is seeking to discover the best in them that already exists. Too often I find, even myself, falling into this mindset of service and superiority. I’m trying to help them. I’m doing them a service. They are lucky that I care. There’s a problem with that. I’m starting them out at a loss, and trying to give them more. It fails to acknowledge all the value and beauty that is already there. One must seek to discover the beauty that already exist in every person. And we must start with that beauty. Our approach much change to, “I see this beauty in you, and I desire to see it blossom in you even more.” “I love this beauty that I see in you, but I also see who you are becoming, and I love that too.”

              The crazy thing about this approach, is that it changes us, too; and brings out the best in ourselves as well. It starts by humbling us. No longer am I helping out of service, but out of genuine love. This mindset also offers grace in our own lives. It allows us to view ourselves in a new light. We can take our flaws and not be overwhelmed by them, but rather see them in light of who we are, and who, by God’s grace, He is continuing to make us into.

              These children have and continue to be such a blessing to me. They continue to teach and grow me in such beautiful ways. But what about you? Who are the people God has put in your life? How are you approaching your relationship and fellowship with them? Are you seeking to see the best in others? We are all flawed people who need a lot of work. There will be always be aspects in others that you wish would change, but how are you approaching that? Are you simply leaving it at just what they need and how they should change? Or are you also seeking to discover the beauty that already resides in them? I have given my students more grace since they are so young, but it is teaching me lessons that I need to extend to others. It’s humbling me in ways that challenge how I view others, and my need of His great grace in my heart. It’s showing the ugly in my heart, and my need to listen when Paul writes in Philippians 2:3 “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.”

Written Into The Story

There’s something about being a part of a story that is so thrilling. I remember growing up, my dad would always tell us these epic stories before bed, on camping trips, or just long car rides. They were all about these five kids who did awesome things and even though they had different names, they all represented one of us, his five children. Mine was the oldest sister named Ariel (yes, like the princess in the Little Mermaid, my dad is a genius at making his little girl smile) and before every story we also got to pick one thing we wanted to be in the story, like dolphins (my usual go to).

I’m all grown up now, and it’s been years since I’ve heard one of these childhood stories, but his knack for drawing in his listeners hasn’t changed. This past week, we got to read a few more of the books we bought, to some of the kids who weren’t there before Christmas break. My dad was reading with one boy, who wasn’t really into the story and my dad could tell. So he points to a blank section of the page, next to the illustration, and says, “they forgot to paint you in, but you’re in this story, too. You’re sitting right there…” and he went on to fill in how this boy was a part of the story. Well this kid starts beaming, asking with every page where he is, and what he’s doing. By the time the story is almost over this kid is basically co-writing this book with all his added dialogue. And by the time they finish, this kid is so excited, that they’ve now come to me, commissioning me as a co-illustrator to their revised story, and I’m taking pictures as this kid starts posing so that I can literally paint him into this storybook.

What can I say, there’s just something about getting to be a part of the story. The crazy, wild, beautiful thing is that we too are part of a story. God’s story. I love what Hebrew’s 12:2 says, “fixing our eyes upon Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith…” I love that the word author is there. It makes it feel even more like a story, with a writer and everything. A master story teller, who lets us co-write at times, to tell him that we want dolphins in this story, or to be painted in over here. So skilled that He can work with us, and still write a great story. In fact, it seems he finds joy in writing it with us.

Donald Miller writes a lot about our lives as stories, and more importantly, of our lives as part of God’s story. In his book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, he writes,

If I have a hope, it’s that God sat over the dark nothing and wrote you and me, specifically, into the story and put us in with sunsets and the rainstorm as though to say, “Enjoy your place in my story. The beauty of it means you matter, and you can create within it even as I have created you.”

This boy quickly picked up that he could create within the story, and that’s a beautiful thing that many of us often forget we can do. Too often we forget that God wrote us into His grand story, and even more often, we forget that He has not only given us the freedom, but also equipped us to be used in the creating of that story as well. 

Part of the writing process of my story has been telling God my desire to have inner city kids make up some of the crucial characters in my life story. Part of the beauty has been getting to look back and see just how He has chosen to write them in to my story. The most exciting part, however, is getting to continue living out and seeing how the story unfolds, expressing new story ideas along the way, like helping these children to realize the beauty that they too are a significant part of God’s story. The story is still being written, but every week it seems that God adds something into the week’s chapter that thrills me, and fills me with joy and hope.

Illogical Love

For the LORD takes pleasure in his people;

    he adorns the humble with salvation.

Psalm 149:4

The thing that always mystified me about God is the fact that He delights in us. For some reason, that has been the hardest thing for me to wrap my mind around. He didn’t just save us. He doesn’t just put up with us, or tolerate us despite our rebellion, flaws, disobedience, heck, our straight up annoying behaviors of worrying and doubt. No, He somehow genuinely loves us. Delights in us! Delight, like when you actually enjoy something, desire something, want something! Yes, I’m over-explaining a simple concept that you got the first time I said it, but are you understanding the full weight of this truth? Because it’s kind of insane!

I know that almost everything God does makes no sense by our worldly logic; but this one is my favorite. And today, I got to be a part of living into His kind of illogical love. Today, I, along with some of His other children, got to love on some kids in a way they weren’t expecting.

We showed up at the rec. center and started off our Tuesday afternoon like we always do, sitting next to students in a loud, slightly chaotic room, helping them with homework, reading books to/with them, and just listening to their stories. Then, when everyone was done their homework we each took a few of the students aside and read a few stories with them. Each unaware that those books were about to be given to them as gifts. We read them the book, asked them if they liked it, and then turned to the cover page where their name and a note was written. Most of them just stared at us in confusion as we handed them their brand new book. Smiles slowly began to form as they realized what had just happened. We let the excitement sink in and settle in, and then told them that we also had a present for each of them.

One girl just started laughing for joy, uncontrollably, for about two minutes, clutching her still-wrapped present. Others jumped up. Some screamed. One girl, who was in another room, and is usually pretty quiet, came running into the room I was in screaming and waving the new Rapunzel doll she just got. One of the girls in my group screamed, “You know me so well!!” as she unwrapped her’s.

The kid in me came out while I was shopping for these toys (toys have gotten pretty legit! since I was a 10 year old), but it was nothing compared to the pure joy that came from watching these kids with their toys. They would come up to me showing me what they got, and then go off telling me all about its awesomeness. Throughout my whole time there, there was this deep, inner, delight in me, as I saw these kids who have burrowed their way into my heart, smiling and laughing.  It was a delight to love these kids, even if there was nothing tangible they could give back to me.

They teach and show me so much. And God uses them to grow me in so many ways. So my relationship with them isn’t the same as mine is with God. God needs me a lot less than I need them (He doesn’t need me at all); but today His way of loving didn’t seem so illogical. Loving the way He loves, seemed like the best way there is to love. Delighting in someone else’s joy seemed as natural as any other daily task.

Linda, who oversees the children at the Rec. center, was blown away by today, too. She kept commenting on how nice this was, but also kept asking why we were doing this. To her, our actions were as confusing as God’s love is to me. It made no sense. But that’s the beauty of an unexpected surprise. And that’s part of the joy of living in and out of His great love. You get to experience a kind of love that doesn’t make sense, and find yourself consumed with joy by it. 

It shocks me, because it’s not what I would expect from a God. It overwhelms me, because I can’t believe that I mean this much to someone like Him. It’s a happy surprise, and I guess that’s why I love this aspect of Him so much.

When People Matter

 Maybe I’ve watched too many chick-flicks, but the idea of being seen, sought out, from a crowd, has always had this beautiful appeal to me. To stand out to someone, to matter. It could just be me, but something tells me that this desire to be seen and to matter has been felt by countless others.

I try not to let all the Rom. Coms get to my head to much, but I sometimes can’t help but hope that some movie-esk moment would happen in my life.

I suppose that’s why I’m drawn to the stories in the Bible; they just seem to be filled with them. Stories where a young Jewish girl captivates the heart of a Persian king. Or the youngest shepherd boy of 12 is chosen as king. Remember the time when the King of Kings notices the touch of sick woman amidst a crowd? Or the time the Son of God came to earth to save the life of His beloved. It’s good stuff, and it gets me every time. It’s story after story of the kind of moments we all seem to hope for.

This past Saturday we had our Christmas party for the students that come to the recreation center every Tuesday for help with their homework.  We invited every student and their whole family, including distant relatives and close friends.  We had everything ready.  Food.  Gifts.  Games.  Music.  Decorations.  It was going to be a great party.  The only problem was that none of the children that we tutor or their families came to the party.  Not one.

But one family did come.  We didn’t know them and they didn’t know us.  They happened to see one of the invitations to the party lying around at the recreation center and they just showed up.  Mom and Dad and their five year old son.  And suddenly this family became the star attraction.  We tried not to be too abrupt in the special attention we showed them; but they seemed to be enjoying it.  We had plenty of food and very pleasant conversation around the table, while their son played with the other children and some of the adults from Northeast Bible Fellowship.

For that time, those three mattered a whole lot.  All our efforts to host a party were focused on them.  Pastor Alonso shared a short but very warm presentation of the Gospel and included an invitation to trust Jesus.  For those two hours that one family mattered a lot.

Pastor Bryant waited outside in the cool evening for nearly half an hour looking for them, hoping they would attend our Tuesday Community Bible study.  They didn’t.  But our hope is that the love focused on them for two hours Saturday night will be a small sample to them of the far greater love that Jesus has for them.  For they matter greatly to Him.

One of the other guests that also attended our party was a man from an organization called Graffiti, in New York City. He came to see what we were about. His ministry is based in a pretty rough neighborhood up there, and while I was talking to him about it, he said a really cool thing. He gets a lot of comments from others about how challenging his work must be.  But his response is, “where some see challenging, I see hopeful. The city is filled with so much hope.” And it’s true. Walk down any street in Philly and you will find hope seeping out of its crevices, waiting to be grown, wishing to bloom.

I love movie worthy moments, and to be honest, it can get discouraging working in the city. But every time I stop, every time I look around me and see the lives unfolding around me, I’m blown away by the story. Because all around me are great people being used by God to pour into the lives of those around me, as they take the time to build relationships and see people in the crowd. From the kids who do their homework because they have someone who cares enough to ask them to pull it out and then sits down next to him to help him, to the family who saw one our invitation and came to our party, even though they didn’t know us. In small but beautiful ways, God has been letting us be his eyes and heart for moments in the lives of those in Frankford. He’s been using us to see others, and show them they stand out by the way we love on them.

Let Thanksgiving Be Our Dialect

Patience, humility, thankfulness, recognizing my weaknesses and His strength, surrendering inadequacies and trusting His exceeding proficiency. Lots and lots of lessons to learn.

I am an impatient dreamer. A visionary who lacks mundane faithfulness. I have a complete inability to remain in encouraged thanksgiving amidst the pragmatics of a daunting situation.

Working with the kids at McIlvain fills me with so much joy every week. I love being around them. But it has been hard to write about them each week, because even though I care about them, the whole program is rather chaotic. Our partnership with this afterschool program hasn’t been what we expected, and our efforts have seemed so inefficient. Sure, we were helping; but it has been so small. I couldn’t help but think, who wants to read about our small, seemingly insignificant efforts? Won’t it just be repetitive? It is an annoyance, really, to send the same thing out every week. So I stopped. But today two things happened.

The first was that when we arrived, the kids rushed with hugs, as usual. But amidst the noise little Antoine came over and simply said, “Can you read with me?”  Antoine! The boy who never wants to do homework, or anything even remotely academic. Antoine, who for the first time read with me last week, and now is asking me to read with him! Asking as soon as I arrive!

It caused me to stop and see that others were getting their homework out on their own and sitting next to us asking for help when needed. Others were getting out the books I brought and were reading them. Pulling out the flash cards I had brought and were excitedly competing with each other to solve the addition and multiplication problems before the other. So much had changed in these few months.

It was still loud.  There were still kids whose teeth had to be pulled to get them to take out their homework and actually work on it. There were still tons of things that could have been done better; but there were also a lot of really great things that were happening.

The second thing to happen was the Bible study. The message hit on a lot of things, but throughout there was this call to thanksgiving. The need to let thanksgiving be our dialect. To praise Him with thanksgiving continuously. “Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with thanksgiving.”

It might be one of those, you had to be there, for it to make sense, but throughout the message I kept thinking, I’ve lost my thanksgiving for this ministry. I don’t doubt that my love for the children continued, but my faith in His work there did. Somewhere along the way I stopped relying on Him, and began looking at our efforts from my perspective. I began relying on my competency. But seeing the dire situation for a better program for the children, I let myself become discouraged by my own inadequacy. The best I could do wasn’t good enough, so none of it was.

There’s this quote by Mark Batterson that I love, “go after a God-sized dream that is destined to fail without DIVINE INTERVENTION.” Going into this, I knew that my efforts would never come to fruition without Him. I knew that I was utterly inadequate to take on any aspect of improving the Philadelphia public education system, but that He was more than enough, to do more than I could imagine. I knew I would have to go into this with complete dependency on Him, and yet somewhere along the way I stopped. His timing, the situation, everything caused doubt, and I starting relying on myself instead. God is teaching me, He’s using this to show me so much. But what is even more unbelievable, He’s still using me.  What He is able to use to accomplish what only He could still astounds me.  And there is thanksgiving for Him, and gratitude that against all odds, He still wants to use me here.

I guess this post is more an explanation of my absence in updates, than an update.  But if you want to know how the program is doing, all I can say is God is at work in these children’s lives. He’s using inadequate us and working through us even when we let our own efforts get in the way.  He is present and I am thankful!

But continue to pray for us all. Pray for each of the students, that they would see His love and that it would transform their lives. Pray for their parents, teachers, the staff as McIlvain, and all the adults that affect their lives. And pray for us. Pray for a humble thanksgiving to grow in our broken, limited lives, that we would obediently and joyfully let God use us as He wills, and not let our own flaws form a resistance to His will and His timing.

I hope I can do a better job of keeping you all updated on what God is doing here in Frankford. But thank you for your steadfast prayers. 

Hope For Change

“I want to change!” Rick said to me, his opening comments as he came back to talk.  “There is something about what’s happening here that maybe this is a place where I can actually hope for change.”  It was the fall Community Party sponsored by Northeast Bible Fellowship, last Thursday at McIlvain Recreation Center.  About 100 people showed up. There was plenty of food, games for the children, beautiful fall weather and a contagious spirit of joy that caught everyone present.

Rick has six children.  He struggles with alcohol addiction.  He also spent six years in juvenile prison.  He is an engaging man and I believe he is looking for a place to fit in.  For encouragement.  Someone to just listen for a while.  A place of hope.  Love.

There’s only One who can deliver all that.  But our Father God regularly uses us clay vessels to join with Him to deliver hope and love and community.  Rick had left the party and then returned.  He said his heart was churning to come back.  I prayed with him.  And we talked about getting our families together for dinner at his house in a week or two.

Mary was there with her two daughters.  She said she is afraid for their safety every day, as her six and eight year old girls played in the field in front of us with all the other children.  Jacquie said she wishes this kind of community event could happen all the time in this neighborhood.  LaShant wondered if we could help her run a block party on her street.

Refuge. Encouragement.  Community. Hope. Love.  Can our Father God really deliver all that?  Are we promising more than can actually be handed out?  Do I have faith to trust God to use me to deliver those precious goods?

Last Tuesday evening at our weekly community Bible study we looked at Paul’s statement in 2 Corinthians where he said, “When I am weak, God is strong.”  I know I am too weak to provide such hope and love, even when I’m teamed up with the great folks who make up Northeast Bible Fellowship.  But our Father God is strong, very strong, infinitely strong.  And He loves all of us more than we’ll ever understand.  Because of His power and love people like Rick and Mary can have hope and peace.  And through faith in Him, I will be part of His love for them.

Barren to Beautiful

I had an hour before I needed to head over to the tutoring center, so I met up with a good friend of mine for a late lunch. When I went to leave there was an empty parking spot where I had parked. What started out as a quick lunch with a friend turned into hours of subways, buses and walking out to 61^st Street (that’s the out in the middle of nowhere section of Philly, if you’re unfamiliar) to get my car. Needless to say, I wasn’t able to make it to the recreation center yesterday. 

But I got to spend a lot of time with this friend, and get into things we wouldn’t have been able to if I had left when I had intended to. I talked about my frustrations and sadness over the number of close people in my life who have left their faith. My uncertainty of what to do, and my own struggle with my faith walk, now that I have lost the support and fellowship I once had with them. She shared with me parts of her own thought process as a girl who grew up in a Christian home, but no longer considers herself a Christian. Parts of me recognized the good in being able to spend this extra time with her and have these conversations. Part of me wanted to say look how God is using this. But mostly I was tired from thinking my car was stolen, to realizing it was towed and going who knows where to pay who knows what. I was exhausted from confiding hard struggles, and then adding another one to the list. Part of me wanted to find a purpose for the past four hours, but a bigger part of me just wanted to give up and not think about any of it.  

We said goodbye, and I drove over to the church for Bible study, tired, hungry, and feeling pretty defeated. The best I could do was joke that I ended up having a pretty expensive lunch that day. We shared prayer requests, prayed and then dove into the lesson. Pastor Alonzo choose to speak on John 15, the passage about Christ as the vine and us as the branches. In light of the day, it was just another passage to me. Another passage that wasn’t going to help me in my faith walk, that wasn’t going to tell me what to do about all my “ex-Christian” friends. Until it did. Alonzo asked what we thought was meant by the beginning statement of the verse 2, “Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away…” At this point my attention perked, but my heart remained discouraged. The words “taken away” aren’t the most encouraging. The discussion wasn’t giving me much comfort until Alonzo stepped in and offered a new thought. He read an excerpt from the book, Secrets of the Vine, where the author, Bruce Wilkinson, is having a conversation with an owner of a vineyard.

“New branches have a natural tendency to trail down and grow along the ground,” he explained. “But they don’t bear fruit down there. When branches grow along the ground, the leaves get coated in dust. When it rains, they get muddy and mildewed. The branch becomes sick and useless.”

“What do you do?” I asked. “Cut it off and throw it away?”

“Oh, no!” he exclaimed. “The branch is much too valuable for that. We go through the vineyard with a bucket of water looking for those branches. We lift them up and wash them off.” He demonstrated for me with dark, callused hands. “Then we wrap them around the trellis or tie them up. Pretty soon they’re thriving.”

As he talked, I could picture Jesus’ own hand motions when He taught in the vineyard that night. He was showing how the Father makes sure Hs crop comes in full and sweet. When the branches fall into the dirt, God doesn’t throw them away or abandon them. He lifts them up, cleans them off, and helps them flourish again.

As I listened, holding back my tears, I knew that those words would not have been as powerful to me had I not gone through my afternoon. I knew my heart wouldn’t have been as vulnerable and open to receive comfort, had it not been still tender to the hurt of the day. I may have thought I had an expensive lunch when I walked in, but sitting there last night, I knew I had gotten a cheap, safe, but powerful lesson. A gift really.