September of this last year (2003), I moved from full time work on Polk Street, into studying at the AIM school and working part time. The transition I went through was more than I expected emotionally. I can’t really explain all the psychology of it... but it felt as though the heartache I had seen during my time on Polk Street, finally caught up with me and was processed. Living out there full-time, I couldn’t fully take in all that I experienced as it happened or I would have been useless and weepy 24/7. I know that God gave me grace to work and live as I did and that was much clearer after I was no long out there every day. The week after I moved out, I was working on our Pharos scrapbook and started crying at seeing a photo of one of our kids. At first I couldn’t really figure out why I was crying. I had look at those photos almost everyday for several weeks. I was weeping over things that had happened over a month earlier. This has happened quite a lot over the past few months. On top of that, other events took place that shook me up. Myself and a few roommates, got to know a 13 year-old girl that was on Polk Street. We saw God do amazing things in her life. Miraculously sobering her up from heroin and speed, with no withdrawals! She spent one week with a couple of us, at my house and another girl’s apartment... there was lot’s of prayer and good long talks that week as we “mothered” her. Toward the end of the week, we could see the affects of being off drugs and in a positive environment could have. She started acting more like a 13-yr-old kid, rather than a tough street kid. It was a very intense week, perhaps the most intense week of my life... but she was so worth it. This happened toward the end of October, and since then she has had some ups and downs.
Also, in the midst of crazyness with our little girl, I found out that one of the kids we’d hung out with on Polk Street had been killed. I also learned that his mother was staying at a house with people from my church, just up the street from me. I’ll never forget the night I visited her. She told me more about him, and showed me the things he’d had on him when he died, including a bus ticket home scheduled to leave just days after he was killed. I was amazed when I heard how she had gotten to this house. A man from my church picked her up in his cab, she was weeping and eventually told him why. He prayed for her and as he dropped her off at a hotel, he gave her his phone number to call if she need a place to stay longer. She called a few days later, and came to stay with them. Then, through the oddest means, she called Ronda (one of my roommates at the Pharos), who contacted me. But it was only by chance that I learned where she was staying. As I was walking home after seeing her that night, crying, not just for the kid that had passed away, but for the others still out there, I prayed, “God... I’m running low on hope. It’s not gone, but it’s running low.” The next afternoon, I took a walk, still feeling down. I was praying for more hope as I wandered up Fillmore Street... and eventually into a shop. Some bottles caught my eye (I like bottles), I looked closer and read, “HOPE: Caution, do not abandon.” I had to smile. ‘Okay, God... that’s cute. Thanks.’
After moving back to Wyoming, I’ve continued to grieve. I broke down Christmas evening, thinking about kids in San Francisco. It’s been a difficult season, but a lot of good has happened in the midst of it. My time at AIM was wonderful... It became very clear that God wanted me there for that time. I was sad to leave. When I was in Chicago for a conference, which I’ll talk about more later, God really encouraged me. I had a great week, and the last night I was in Chicago, while sitting around a little backyard campfire praying with some new friends... the song “Joyful, Joyful” (like from Sister Act), kept running through my head. I felt God say that my season of grieving was ending, and the next season will be joyful.
Wednesday, January 14, 2004
Monday, August 25, 2003
The "So Much"
The first time I was in San Francisco, against all reason I felt very much at home. I was only here for 1 week, but that started something. I remember as we were driving out of the City -- I felt terrible. I was arguing with God a bit, whining about leaving. Why did I care so much about leaving a place I’ve only known a week? Somewhat to my surprise, I felt God answer, “I want you to remember this feeling -- the feeling of wanting to be here, of wanting to fill the needs here, because one day I’m going to ask you to come back and you’re not going to want to... so, remember and obey or you will miss out on so much. That last part really stuck in my head... “‘so much’, Huh?” I filed that away in my brain, not expecting to pull it out so soon.
Only about a month later the day came. I was sitting in a small church service in Nepal, listening to music and words I couldn’t understand, looking at people I was completely falling in love with. I recognized a familiar tune, “Seek Ye First” being sung in Nepali. Then, unexpectedly an inspired thought entered my head -- “You won’t see these people for a long time”. My heart immediately sank -- What a terrible thought! It wouldn’t go away. “Seek first... something else, this will be added later”. That’s not the way the song goes!! But the message was clear -- I wasn’t going to live in Nepal right away. With that 1 piece of info, all, and by ‘all’ I mean many, of my plans were gone. “Where else would I go?” Now, I didn’t want an answer, especially at that moment, but I got it anyway -- “remember San Francisco?”. I ignored it. Hmmm... I’m going to have to pray about what I should do. Funny how we can spiritualize things to avoid listening. I looked in front of me at a squirming Nepali child. Something caught my eye -- the tag on her little blue jeans. They were “San Francisco” brand jeans... no joke. I was annoyed, but a little amused. The confirmations continued, for the next several weeks San Francisco was everywhere I turned. I know God was having fun... movies in Thailand, tourism specials on the plane, notes people had written. The week I arrived back in the US, I called up to the base in San Francisco and said the I needed a staff application, because God wouldn’t leave me alone.
So... here I am, with one month left of my two years on staff at YWAM San Francisco. God promised “so much”, and... well, I’m still trying to piece together all that He has done. He wasn’t joking about how much I would have missed. I don’t want to imagine how my life would have been had I not come here. I’m going to try to summarize some of it... knowing that even I have no idea how much being here has impacted myself and others.
I remember that after I returned from Nepal, I was upset about the condition of the kingdom... which had been shaken by a massacre. God used that to show me that prayer was more valuable in Nepal that anything I could do. I knew that if I had gone to Nepal immediately I would have gone alone, in my own strength. Perhaps I would have done a lot of “good” things, but unless God was in it... none of it would matter. Just last week I was looking back at this, and realizing that the reason I had to come to San Francisco before going to Nepal, was because I need to learn to wait on God, to depend on Him and not myself. I’ve learned a lot about myself these last 2 years... and the most important thing I’ve learned is that I don’t want to do anything without God. I know that I can choose to ignore Him in areas of my life, or ignore Him altogether... and He’ll allow me to, but the truth is that unless I’m right in the middle of His perfect plan... nothing is worth it. The Lord has brought me to Exodus 32-34 many different times the last couple years, and I’m finally seeing why. Look at Moses’ prayer, “If your presence will not go, do not carry us up from here. For how shall it be known that I have found favor in your sight, I and your people, unless you go with us?” Moses made it clear that, although God had told him he could go to the promised land, he’d rather die in the desert than go without Him. Two years ago I was more than ready to go to Nepal, but now... I don’t really want to go anywhere unless God is going with me. This is only the most valuable thing I’ve learned. God has grown me, blessed me, and used me in many ways. It’s been the most challenging 2 years, and also the most fun. I’ve found emotions I didn’t know I had... I laugh twice as much, and cry more easily. My vision is a lot clearer, my focus more undeviating. I’ve made new friends, arranged a marriage, and lived in tight community. I’ve been poured into by the most amazing teachers and leaders I know of, and I’ve been able to pour out to the most hurting and rejected people I know of...
I guess I’ll conclude there, because there is so much that I could write. God knows what He’s doing... I wasn’t to happy about coming here at first, it made no sense. I don’t want to ever be unwilling to do what God asks, because I see what can be missed otherwise.
Only about a month later the day came. I was sitting in a small church service in Nepal, listening to music and words I couldn’t understand, looking at people I was completely falling in love with. I recognized a familiar tune, “Seek Ye First” being sung in Nepali. Then, unexpectedly an inspired thought entered my head -- “You won’t see these people for a long time”. My heart immediately sank -- What a terrible thought! It wouldn’t go away. “Seek first... something else, this will be added later”. That’s not the way the song goes!! But the message was clear -- I wasn’t going to live in Nepal right away. With that 1 piece of info, all, and by ‘all’ I mean many, of my plans were gone. “Where else would I go?” Now, I didn’t want an answer, especially at that moment, but I got it anyway -- “remember San Francisco?”. I ignored it. Hmmm... I’m going to have to pray about what I should do. Funny how we can spiritualize things to avoid listening. I looked in front of me at a squirming Nepali child. Something caught my eye -- the tag on her little blue jeans. They were “San Francisco” brand jeans... no joke. I was annoyed, but a little amused. The confirmations continued, for the next several weeks San Francisco was everywhere I turned. I know God was having fun... movies in Thailand, tourism specials on the plane, notes people had written. The week I arrived back in the US, I called up to the base in San Francisco and said the I needed a staff application, because God wouldn’t leave me alone.
So... here I am, with one month left of my two years on staff at YWAM San Francisco. God promised “so much”, and... well, I’m still trying to piece together all that He has done. He wasn’t joking about how much I would have missed. I don’t want to imagine how my life would have been had I not come here. I’m going to try to summarize some of it... knowing that even I have no idea how much being here has impacted myself and others.
I remember that after I returned from Nepal, I was upset about the condition of the kingdom... which had been shaken by a massacre. God used that to show me that prayer was more valuable in Nepal that anything I could do. I knew that if I had gone to Nepal immediately I would have gone alone, in my own strength. Perhaps I would have done a lot of “good” things, but unless God was in it... none of it would matter. Just last week I was looking back at this, and realizing that the reason I had to come to San Francisco before going to Nepal, was because I need to learn to wait on God, to depend on Him and not myself. I’ve learned a lot about myself these last 2 years... and the most important thing I’ve learned is that I don’t want to do anything without God. I know that I can choose to ignore Him in areas of my life, or ignore Him altogether... and He’ll allow me to, but the truth is that unless I’m right in the middle of His perfect plan... nothing is worth it. The Lord has brought me to Exodus 32-34 many different times the last couple years, and I’m finally seeing why. Look at Moses’ prayer, “If your presence will not go, do not carry us up from here. For how shall it be known that I have found favor in your sight, I and your people, unless you go with us?” Moses made it clear that, although God had told him he could go to the promised land, he’d rather die in the desert than go without Him. Two years ago I was more than ready to go to Nepal, but now... I don’t really want to go anywhere unless God is going with me. This is only the most valuable thing I’ve learned. God has grown me, blessed me, and used me in many ways. It’s been the most challenging 2 years, and also the most fun. I’ve found emotions I didn’t know I had... I laugh twice as much, and cry more easily. My vision is a lot clearer, my focus more undeviating. I’ve made new friends, arranged a marriage, and lived in tight community. I’ve been poured into by the most amazing teachers and leaders I know of, and I’ve been able to pour out to the most hurting and rejected people I know of...
I guess I’ll conclude there, because there is so much that I could write. God knows what He’s doing... I wasn’t to happy about coming here at first, it made no sense. I don’t want to ever be unwilling to do what God asks, because I see what can be missed otherwise.
Friday, July 25, 2003
The Contrast of Life Without God
Over the years, we see our kids go through their ups and downs. Some, consistently make attempts to get off the street or get help... but it seems that often, just as things are looking up, they are jerked back onto the street. It almost seems as though the enemy has a leash on them... and if they do too well, he yanks on it. It can be discouraging to see them do so well, only to plummet back into their past. On the other hand, we see that each time they break away from the street, God changes them, and even if they return, the enemy can’t rob what God has sown in. One of our guys, we’ve seen go through this cycle again and again. We’ve seen him clean for 6 months, following the Lord, going to church... but we’ve also seen him at his worst.
A couple weeks ago, we were out in the evening and he was sitting on the street. It was obvious that the enemy was tormenting him... he was hissing at us and mumbling all sorts of nonsense. We sat down on the sidewalk not far from him. As we were sitting there, I kept pondering the intense contrast I’ve seen in his life. I’ve heard him pray and pour his heart out to God with such sincerity... and I’ve seen him completely deceived and yelling at us. I’ve seen him healthy, but also thin, worn, and dirty. It seems that if everyone could see the difference in following God and living in the world, especially like I did that night, that all would choose God’s life. We eventually moved even closer to him, and prayed silently. It was clear that the enemy didn’t like that. We asked him if he knew that we loved him and if he knew how special he was. We persisted, until he said that he did know that we loved him, but he was bothered by the idea of being special.
The next evening he stopped by, looking better. He asked if we had any food left from Bible Study, we didn’t, but Kerri took him some candy bars. He told her that he was really sorry about the night before, and that he’d had some really bad drugs. Kerri said, “Yeah, we know, that’s why we were sitting next to you. Do you remember what I said to you about being special?”. He responded with a “yeah” and a sad look. He said that he really need to get out of here because it was “killing his heart” and gave her a hug.
A couple days later he stopped by and said he was ready to go. We were able to get him into a short term place that afternoon. Early the next week, he called our house. At first I had no idea who it was, because he sounded so different. A few days of prayer and a good environment had changed him already. Again, I was struck by the contrast... he was talking about the Bible and what he was learning, and looking ahead at the future. I was a bit teary, especially when he brought up that evening from the previous week. He said that he had realized that the reason he was acting so strange toward us, was because the enemy was messing with him and telling him that we were bad. He said that the enemy must not have liked us praying for him that night. I told him that that was exactly why we had been sitting there. Then he got a bit sentimental and thanked us for “saving his life”. A day or so later, he was able to leave the city to a discipleship program. We spoke with the director of the program a few days later, and he’s doing great.
A couple weeks ago, we were out in the evening and he was sitting on the street. It was obvious that the enemy was tormenting him... he was hissing at us and mumbling all sorts of nonsense. We sat down on the sidewalk not far from him. As we were sitting there, I kept pondering the intense contrast I’ve seen in his life. I’ve heard him pray and pour his heart out to God with such sincerity... and I’ve seen him completely deceived and yelling at us. I’ve seen him healthy, but also thin, worn, and dirty. It seems that if everyone could see the difference in following God and living in the world, especially like I did that night, that all would choose God’s life. We eventually moved even closer to him, and prayed silently. It was clear that the enemy didn’t like that. We asked him if he knew that we loved him and if he knew how special he was. We persisted, until he said that he did know that we loved him, but he was bothered by the idea of being special.
The next evening he stopped by, looking better. He asked if we had any food left from Bible Study, we didn’t, but Kerri took him some candy bars. He told her that he was really sorry about the night before, and that he’d had some really bad drugs. Kerri said, “Yeah, we know, that’s why we were sitting next to you. Do you remember what I said to you about being special?”. He responded with a “yeah” and a sad look. He said that he really need to get out of here because it was “killing his heart” and gave her a hug.
A couple days later he stopped by and said he was ready to go. We were able to get him into a short term place that afternoon. Early the next week, he called our house. At first I had no idea who it was, because he sounded so different. A few days of prayer and a good environment had changed him already. Again, I was struck by the contrast... he was talking about the Bible and what he was learning, and looking ahead at the future. I was a bit teary, especially when he brought up that evening from the previous week. He said that he had realized that the reason he was acting so strange toward us, was because the enemy was messing with him and telling him that we were bad. He said that the enemy must not have liked us praying for him that night. I told him that that was exactly why we had been sitting there. Then he got a bit sentimental and thanked us for “saving his life”. A day or so later, he was able to leave the city to a discipleship program. We spoke with the director of the program a few days later, and he’s doing great.
A Glimpse of the Street
I can’t get his innocent face out of my mind. Sitting outside the bar earlier...
“It’s been a bad day.”
“What made it bad?”
“No money... well, no drugs...” He went on to explain how needing heroin and alcohol was the worst feeling ever. “You can’t understand how miserable it is.”
“Yeah, we don’t really want to, but we’ve seen others there enough that we know it’s rough”
“Yeah...” This lead into a conversation about kicking alcohol and heroin.
“I nearly died last time... Remember when I got arrested? At the hospital they were holding me down and I was thrashing around.” He acted it out a little.
In his case prostitution does keep him from death, or brushes with it. Alcohol is the most deadly thing to kick. One percent of heroin addicts are able to kick per year... and that’s when they try. We encouraged him that that he could make it through. He’s already heard the “we’re here whenever you’re ready” spiel.
“I’m a completely different person when I’m sober... it’s weird... I don’t know who I am. But... well, I guess I don’t know who I am like this either.” It’s those words and his small, sweet face as he shrugged it off that I can’t get out of my head.
“That’s why I just lie to myself... Then it’s okay” He said with a laugh. Moments later... a dealer, a date... and he’s gone.
Not unusual really -- maybe some of the “kids” aren’t as blunt about it, or as obviously out-of-place on Polk Street, but the problems are mostly the same... ‘I don’t know who I am, but for the next few minutes I’m going to forget, to cope... I’ll become heroin, speed, alcohol, even pot... as long as I’m not me.’
“It’s been a bad day.”
“What made it bad?”
“No money... well, no drugs...” He went on to explain how needing heroin and alcohol was the worst feeling ever. “You can’t understand how miserable it is.”
“Yeah, we don’t really want to, but we’ve seen others there enough that we know it’s rough”
“Yeah...” This lead into a conversation about kicking alcohol and heroin.
“I nearly died last time... Remember when I got arrested? At the hospital they were holding me down and I was thrashing around.” He acted it out a little.
In his case prostitution does keep him from death, or brushes with it. Alcohol is the most deadly thing to kick. One percent of heroin addicts are able to kick per year... and that’s when they try. We encouraged him that that he could make it through. He’s already heard the “we’re here whenever you’re ready” spiel.
“I’m a completely different person when I’m sober... it’s weird... I don’t know who I am. But... well, I guess I don’t know who I am like this either.” It’s those words and his small, sweet face as he shrugged it off that I can’t get out of my head.
“That’s why I just lie to myself... Then it’s okay” He said with a laugh. Moments later... a dealer, a date... and he’s gone.
Not unusual really -- maybe some of the “kids” aren’t as blunt about it, or as obviously out-of-place on Polk Street, but the problems are mostly the same... ‘I don’t know who I am, but for the next few minutes I’m going to forget, to cope... I’ll become heroin, speed, alcohol, even pot... as long as I’m not me.’
Wednesday, September 25, 2002
"Welcome to the Pharos, Sarah!"
My second night at the Pharos, at about 1am, the phone rang. I heard Kerri scramble out of bed to answer it. It was one of our "kids". After a brief conversation over the intercom, Kerri determined that he was ready for help to get off the street. She told him to wait downstairs a minute till we could let him in. When she hung up, I asked groggily if I was supposed to do anything. "No, you're not on call this week," then she kind-of laughed, "Welcome to the Pharos, Sarah!" It was an appropriate welcome. Probably the most valuable thing we do at the Pharos is to provide a place for the street kids we work with to come, anytime - day or night, when they need help. They know that we're here, they know what we do, and when they truly realize what they need, they know where to come.
Maybe a more fitting scenario to welcome me to the house came this week, when another kid spent the night before going to detox. On nights like that, we often choose to take shifts praying for them through the night. I got the 4:20 to 7am shift. It was much easier to stay awake than I expected, and the next morning when he shared over breakfast, the obviously significant dreams that he had during the night. I knew it was more than worth it! We dropped him off at the detox center as soon as there was an opening at around noon.
We always work at least 8-hour days, which 8 hours is rather hard to predict because we never know what will come up. We also do the shopping, both for our house, and the Tenderloin location. Shopping usually takes nearly all of the 8 hours of our Thursday workday. Any extra time we spend on Polk Street or doing logistical work for the house. Every Tuesday night we host a dinner and Bible Study, and nearly every weekday we do a Bible Study on Polk Street, which consists of sitting on the street with Bibles and reading a few chapters.
One day last week, after having our Bible Study on the street, we invited one of the guys over for lunch. We realized after he got there, that his B-Day had been a couple weeks ago, but we hadn't been able to find him, so we fixed him a brownie with a few candles and sang "Happy Birthday" to him. He laughed with a bit of embarrassment and said, "Do you have any idea how long it's been since I blew out candles"; then he calculated, "I think I was 15. I'm 22 now." That same guy, at another time, said to me, "Do you know what I do?! I hustle. I sell myself to get drugs. That's sick! I hate what I do!” I think that sums up what most of the guys on Polk Street feel about their lives. The shame that they get from what they do causes them to be shocked when we are willing to let them come into our home and eat with us. By far the best part of our job though, we were able to do last Friday. Here's how it happened:
One of our kids, Jonathan, ran into us as we were coming home for the night after the Hot Chocolate night we lead for local fellowships. He was holding a tan macramé belt, which he was coming to give to us. He said that he had found it that morning and had been wandering around most of the day trying to decide what to do with it. He intended to sell it, but then he remembered how we had invited him over for warm cookies and ice cream last week and thought, “I have to give it to those girls for being so nice to me!” We accepted it graciously, then asked how he was doing. He said he was doing much better and had decided to get into a program and get off of drugs. We asked how soon he would be ready to do that. He said "Well, right now!". So, we asked if he wanted to come with us and talk about some different places. He was a little shocked at the offer, but was excited to accept it. We visited with him about the different places that we refer people, and eventually decided on "The Land", which is a discipleship program a few hours north of the city ran by Prodigal Project. We made some phone calls, and one of the Prodigal Project workers said he could come over right away and visit with him, then take him to the Land on Sunday (that is very unusual, so we were blessed and knew that God was up to something!).
While we were waiting, we asked Jonathan if he had ever committed his life to God. He said that he didn't really think so, so we explained what that meant. When we asked him if that was something he wanted to do, he quickly said yes. So, Ronda and I each prayed for him, then he prayed. I think listening to him talk to God with such deep sincerity was one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard. This is something that I've heard several times before, but never like that. When he was done, Ronda told him that God had been waiting since the moment he was created to hear those words and that there was a party going on in heaven because he was just adopted by God. We all were a bit teary-eyed. The Prodigal Project people (there were several actually) arrived a short time later and hung out for awhile. They eventually left, taking Jonathan with them.
On Sunday, I saw the Prodigal Project guy and asked how things were going. I found out that Jonathon had left the night before and not come back. My heart sank. "No!" Apparently his sister had come to visit him and they went out for coffee and never came back. They were all surprised. I was told that they were leaving for the Land at 8pm, and were still glad to take him if he showed up. I prayed that wherever he was that God would protect him, that the enemy wouldn't be able to destroy him with guilt, and that he would come back before they left. My prayers were answered a few hours later when Ronda ran into him. She told him that he could still go if he went to their house by 8. He said, "But aren't they mad at me. I got high". She said, “no, they aren’t mad. Just worried about you. They still want you to go." We got a call from Prodigal Project later that night saying that he had returned, and that they had decided to leave on Wednesday instead. He made it there fine and is doing well as far as we know.
Some rather interesting work happened a couple Sundays ago. About 30 minutes after I woke up Kerri and I heard the rumble of motorcycles passing by outside. After it continued several minutes, we realized that something was going on. Around 700 bikers were gathering, less than a block away, at one of the stops on their Poker Run (they draw cards at 5 locations, the best Poker hand wins), put on by the Hell's Angels. We were able to watch as they all pulled away in front of our building. We discovered a few bikers, one apparently broken down, directly outside our back door. We were able to bless them with some coffee, and I got to talk with them about CMA, which my parents are a part of.
My first month at the Pharos has been amazing and I think I'm still trying to get over the fact that I'm really here.
Maybe a more fitting scenario to welcome me to the house came this week, when another kid spent the night before going to detox. On nights like that, we often choose to take shifts praying for them through the night. I got the 4:20 to 7am shift. It was much easier to stay awake than I expected, and the next morning when he shared over breakfast, the obviously significant dreams that he had during the night. I knew it was more than worth it! We dropped him off at the detox center as soon as there was an opening at around noon.
We always work at least 8-hour days, which 8 hours is rather hard to predict because we never know what will come up. We also do the shopping, both for our house, and the Tenderloin location. Shopping usually takes nearly all of the 8 hours of our Thursday workday. Any extra time we spend on Polk Street or doing logistical work for the house. Every Tuesday night we host a dinner and Bible Study, and nearly every weekday we do a Bible Study on Polk Street, which consists of sitting on the street with Bibles and reading a few chapters.
One day last week, after having our Bible Study on the street, we invited one of the guys over for lunch. We realized after he got there, that his B-Day had been a couple weeks ago, but we hadn't been able to find him, so we fixed him a brownie with a few candles and sang "Happy Birthday" to him. He laughed with a bit of embarrassment and said, "Do you have any idea how long it's been since I blew out candles"; then he calculated, "I think I was 15. I'm 22 now." That same guy, at another time, said to me, "Do you know what I do?! I hustle. I sell myself to get drugs. That's sick! I hate what I do!” I think that sums up what most of the guys on Polk Street feel about their lives. The shame that they get from what they do causes them to be shocked when we are willing to let them come into our home and eat with us. By far the best part of our job though, we were able to do last Friday. Here's how it happened:
One of our kids, Jonathan, ran into us as we were coming home for the night after the Hot Chocolate night we lead for local fellowships. He was holding a tan macramé belt, which he was coming to give to us. He said that he had found it that morning and had been wandering around most of the day trying to decide what to do with it. He intended to sell it, but then he remembered how we had invited him over for warm cookies and ice cream last week and thought, “I have to give it to those girls for being so nice to me!” We accepted it graciously, then asked how he was doing. He said he was doing much better and had decided to get into a program and get off of drugs. We asked how soon he would be ready to do that. He said "Well, right now!". So, we asked if he wanted to come with us and talk about some different places. He was a little shocked at the offer, but was excited to accept it. We visited with him about the different places that we refer people, and eventually decided on "The Land", which is a discipleship program a few hours north of the city ran by Prodigal Project. We made some phone calls, and one of the Prodigal Project workers said he could come over right away and visit with him, then take him to the Land on Sunday (that is very unusual, so we were blessed and knew that God was up to something!).
While we were waiting, we asked Jonathan if he had ever committed his life to God. He said that he didn't really think so, so we explained what that meant. When we asked him if that was something he wanted to do, he quickly said yes. So, Ronda and I each prayed for him, then he prayed. I think listening to him talk to God with such deep sincerity was one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard. This is something that I've heard several times before, but never like that. When he was done, Ronda told him that God had been waiting since the moment he was created to hear those words and that there was a party going on in heaven because he was just adopted by God. We all were a bit teary-eyed. The Prodigal Project people (there were several actually) arrived a short time later and hung out for awhile. They eventually left, taking Jonathan with them.
On Sunday, I saw the Prodigal Project guy and asked how things were going. I found out that Jonathon had left the night before and not come back. My heart sank. "No!" Apparently his sister had come to visit him and they went out for coffee and never came back. They were all surprised. I was told that they were leaving for the Land at 8pm, and were still glad to take him if he showed up. I prayed that wherever he was that God would protect him, that the enemy wouldn't be able to destroy him with guilt, and that he would come back before they left. My prayers were answered a few hours later when Ronda ran into him. She told him that he could still go if he went to their house by 8. He said, "But aren't they mad at me. I got high". She said, “no, they aren’t mad. Just worried about you. They still want you to go." We got a call from Prodigal Project later that night saying that he had returned, and that they had decided to leave on Wednesday instead. He made it there fine and is doing well as far as we know.
Some rather interesting work happened a couple Sundays ago. About 30 minutes after I woke up Kerri and I heard the rumble of motorcycles passing by outside. After it continued several minutes, we realized that something was going on. Around 700 bikers were gathering, less than a block away, at one of the stops on their Poker Run (they draw cards at 5 locations, the best Poker hand wins), put on by the Hell's Angels. We were able to watch as they all pulled away in front of our building. We discovered a few bikers, one apparently broken down, directly outside our back door. We were able to bless them with some coffee, and I got to talk with them about CMA, which my parents are a part of.
My first month at the Pharos has been amazing and I think I'm still trying to get over the fact that I'm really here.
