The Healthy Ones

Sometimes we forget what healthy is, what it looks like, what it feels like. Living as we live, seeing what we see, hearing what we hear, I know what unhealthy is. I know what unhealthy lives like, speaks like, feels like, and smells like.

The past week we ran a normal MA group: lectures, homeless sack lunch, wordless sign outreaches, 2x2 evangelism. work duties and the like. We also had the opportunity to host a banquet. We opened our doors to our neighbors, welcoming them into our home, seating them and serving them. Our neighbors represent a variety of lives: moms, dads, children, homeless, prostitutes, students, drug dealers, drug addicts, and pimps. In opening our home to them, we provide a safe place, for many, this may be the only safe place they have been in months. Pimps sitting across from prostitutes, having conversation. Moms who have only served, being served for once, not having to worry about preparing a meal or cleaning up after. Children receiving a full meal: hamburgers, corn, salad, kabobs. Our eating room was filled with a mixture of smells: grilled meat, unwashed bodies, sweat from our servers, lingering cigarette smoke on clothes, and for me a shirt that a baby peed on.

"Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave- just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many."

Matthew 20:26-28

One girl in the MA group specifically asked me to not put her as a server because she does not like talking to people, she told me she is very shy and awkward. Naturally, I handed her a cutting board with bread, and sent her to serve. She came back to refill the bread, not happy, claiming no one wants dinner rolls. So I sent her out to make conversation. By the end of the night she was beaming, no longer shy or afraid, she was competent to speak and have fellowship. She overcame and broke the bondage to a lie.

The neighbor girl, Nana, asked me if I loved her at the
banquet, my response was an immediate, "Yes!!"

The joy of liberation for me was momentary. I was able to hold a baby girl, 8 months, for a while. Her mom was eating, leaving the hungry baby alone. I spoon fed the baby soft banana. She soon began to rock herself, pushing her chest and head far away from my body in a violent soothing motion. The reality of this young girl, Royalty, came to me. She was not being fed by her mom, she has learned to self-sooth by the age of 8 month, and she was seemingly more comfortable in the arms of a stranger than in the arms of her mother.

The reality of Royalty hurt. 

Friday night, three others and I made a spontaneous trip to LA for the Crossfit games. I was sleeping in the back seat when I was awoken to a cold burst of air: the windows were open. Fresh, cool air. Trees and grass. The place we spent the night was in a real neighborhood: houses with mowed lawns, flower beds, painted fences and windows without boards. 

The Crossfit games are designed to determine the strongest man and woman on the earth, essentially the Olympics of CF. Food vendors were a reflection of these elite human's dietary standards: avocado with egg, steak, salad, protein smoothies and apples. The health of community was present. In one of the men's heat, a competitor limped across the finish line far behind all the others, he received the loudest applause and was greeted and cheered on by all the other competitors. 

The CF games  facility was filled with some of the most elite humans on earth with fans equally as elite. They gathered together, were inspired by each other, and will go home, almost like a revival for the CF community. They will go back to their home and continue to workout in the community of their box. Their robust bodies, selective diet and bright dress attire set them apart from others on the street. They meet four or five times a week for an intensive workout of practical moves that enables them to better live in everyday life (you squat to sit down, you cling and press when picking a child up and throwing him/her into the air, the moves really are practical). Crossfitters were walking around with poise and confidence, maybe out of pride, but I saw a crowd of people who were aware of the bodies. These people worked hard, sweat, blood and tears, they sought out a higher standard of living because they knew their bodies were capable of more.

I saw a glimmer of the church. The games were similar to a conference: blow on the coals slowly turning into embers, and send the people out with a refueled fire. We are to meet frequently as a community throughout the week, allowing ourselves to be vulnerable and seek God out in our daily lives.Our faith is to saturate all areas of life, being something to aid us in every move we make, not simply an activity we do once a day.  The church is to be community and fellowship. When they see us on the streets, will they know who we are, or do we have to tell them? Are we allowing ourselves to move the way we were designed to spiritually, or do we conform to a rigid right and wrong mentality of what faith looks like?

The weekend challenged me to a higher standard of living. Spirit, mind, body. One CF competitor said the mind is over half the competition in CF. Do I limit God moving because I am scared to be radical? Do I rise to the challenge of living under a Heavenly citizenship (Philippians 3:20)? Or do I succumb to the limitations of an easier life? Will I allow the unhealthy around me move me to greater compassion, or will I defer to bitterness?

To live in Christ is a challenge to see the unhealthy, and remain healthy through His strength, so that we may heal in His name alone.

"So we are Christ's ambassadors; God is making His appeal through us. We speak for Christ when we plead, "Come back to God!""

2 Corinthians 5:20

MA: Week One

Week one of MA was refreshing. A youth group from Vegas and a youth group from New Jersey came together, formed a team of 32 and took to the streets of Vegas. With so many exciting stories, and a personal lack of blogging, I figured the best way to recap the week would be through photos!

Two staff members and I kicked off the week with a camping trip. Four significant things about this trip: grass, trees, stars, and cold air. 

First night with the MA teams we went to Sunrise Mountain which overlooks Vegas to pray for the seven spheres of society. Idea of the night is to introduce the groups to the reality of Vegas, both positive and negatives, and began to give them a heart for the city God loves.

My incredible small group for the week!

Wordless Sign outreach: Groups of three or four MA missionaries paint a sign to attract tourists' attention on the Strip and through their photo are able to share the Gospel. This particular sign was illustrating the love of God unbinding us from sin.

During wordless sign, these two boys were able to pray for a homeless man. This was both of their first times praying for a stranger. They both admitted to being nervous, but came away smiling, excited for their next chance to pray for a stranger.

Cross walk outreach is one of the tougher outreaches because the cross automatically strikes emotion inside of people, especially a large wooden cross being carried down the Las Vegas Strip by teenagers. 

Groups typically go out nervous, receive many harsh comments and foul language thrown their way, and somehow always walk away with crazy stories of God encounters with strangers. 

I was able to talk to a man who was very perturbed by the cross walk outreach. He was mad we were doing this, telling me Christ died on the cross, we are all sinners, religion divides people, and we do not need to do this. His theology began well, talking about the freedom in Christ, then he began mentioning aliens, hot spots over cities, the true reason for space shuttle explosions, California falling into the ocean and a world inside of our world. He suggested I stop believing all the lies government tells me through public education and watch the YouTube....

My personal favorite outreach of the week was partnering with Foster Connect and babysitting for different Foster Care families in Vegas. The family my small group babysat for was able to celebrate their 14th wedding anniversary without their five children, something they said they would not have been able to do if Foster Connect had not arranged a date night for them. I left with so much love after snuggling with these girls!

Other outreaches included video surveys, homeless sack lunches, trash pick up, free prayer and 2x2 where groups of two are sent out to proclaim the Good News just as Jesus sent out His disciples.

We ended the week with another camping outing, this time 14 of us. 

Me, Hannah and Vacheral, all three returning from the Best DTS Ever to staff YWAM Las Vegas. Oh the places we have gone and the mountains we have climbed together! 

Camp site of the night. No tents needed.

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."John 16:33 

San Francisco: Check!

View from YWAM SF doorstep

I was excited when informed Mission Adventures staff would spend a week in San Francisco working at their YWAM base. There was much talk about going to the Tenderloin. In my naive Iowa mind, I was confused. What is so good about this Tenderloin joint? I thought we were going for mission work. Yes, Goldie's in Monroe is a big deal with their tenderloins and milkshakes, but to only talk about tenderloins was a little strange to me. Finally, someone explained to me, no, the Tenderloin is an area of San Fran, not a sandwich joint, in fact, they do not even have tenderloins on the West Coast. 

Best hot chocolate evangelism crew in the Tenderloin

The Tenderloin is infamous for their high-crime rates, illicit drug sale and use on the streets, prostitution and homelessness, not their sandwiches. I found myself living a week right in the middle of it. The building we stayed in was once used to shoot porn videos and as a gay club. 

We did many outreaches to the homeless, easy with them literally sleeping on our doorstep. One afternoon we made two sack lunches, one for our self and the other for a homeless person who we would share a meal and conversation with. We served a few meals at a shelter across the street from YWAM SF; one meal I put silverware inside of cups for 500 people, the other meal I scraped plates, tedious and unattractive jobs. We did prayer outreaches, hot chocolate evangelism and hosted a meal in which we brought people in off the streets, sat them at a table inside the base and served them.

Of all the things I learned in school and church about poverty, missions and life, they forgot a few things. They forgot to teach how to love the woman who offers to share her needles with you as you try to share the Gospel with her. They forgot to teach how to respect the transvestite making derogatory comments about your body. They forgot to tell me what to do about the youth safer on the streets than in their homes and how to pray for the man preparing his crack in front of you.They forgot to tell me how alone, desperate and forlorn I could feel on the mission field.

One of the days we were "homeless". We slept on the cold, basement floor of our building, then from 6 am till 4 pm we were on the streets. We had to survive a day searching for public restrooms and eating at shelters. My pride was rocked when we ate breakfast at a homeless shelter. The food was tasteless, I was served by a cheerful volunteer and I identified as homeless. It was pretty obvious the group I was with was not homeless, but I felt different. I struggled to make eye contact with the volunteers. I felt a little less purposeful, worthy, and human. 

The day after our "homeless" experience, the sky was gloomy and overcast. In an already spiritually dark neighborhood, the dirtiness of buildings, people and streets became all the more apparent in the sunless sky. I struggled to find hope. 

Homeless shelter across the street from base

Through all the missions I have been on, not one of them emotionally shook me like this one. The openness of drugs, alcohol, sex and poverty rocked me. The mangled, drug ridden bodies lay lifeless on the sidewalk. There was not much I could do for them, I could not save their life. After each encounter with a person on the street, I walked away a little heavier, a little more hopeless, a little more angry. I did not know what to do. 

The song, Nothing I Hold Onto by Will Reagan, based off Proverbs 3:5, became the theme song for the week. The lyrics say: I lean not on my own understanding, my life is in the hands of the Maker of Heaven; I give it all to you God, trusting that you'll make something beautiful out of me.

What I see I can only understand to an extent, I can only trust. I can only have faith, being confident in what I hope for and put my assurance in Him whom I cannot see (Hebrews 11:1). 

On the nine hour car ride, God, being the good good Father that He is, met me where I was. He is never intimidated by our emotions or angry with our thoughts, He will never abandon us. I learned there is a mercy only the streets and the Spirit can teach us. Yes, there is darkness. No, I cannot save every person. No, I cannot end human suffering. No, I cannot make people choose a better life path. No, it will not always be easy, fun and glamorous. But I can obey God in the moment. Out of obedience I can bring Him glory. I can choose to surrender and worship. In recognizing Him I will find hope. Just as the YWAM San Francisco building was once used for desires of the flesh, it has now been redeemed for Him. Out of obedience and prayer, miracles happen. 

In all of His faithfulness, He reveled His majesty most in the sunset as we drove across the desert back home to Vegas. The clouds glowed purple, pink and blue over the mountains flushed in reds and browns, all screaming of His greatness. He is the Maker of Heaven and Earth. He has the name of every prostitute, drug dealer, pimp, business man, barista, student and unborn child tattooed onto the palm of His hand. That, is love.

I will extol the LORD at all times; his praise will always be on my lips.

Psalm 34:1