A little girl of about 5 years old asked if she can sit next to me on the bench. Without waiting for answer climbs up.
A few minutes pass and she tells me her name is Angela. “That’s a pretty name,” I said.
Then Angela takes my hand looks me straight in the eye and says in a matter of fact voice, “My mom is in jail for selling and doing drugs. My dad is dead. He died in some war in the Middle East I live with my Grandma but my Grandpa is dead. Grandma is really old and is sick, if she dies I will have no one, would you be my daddy?”
About that time a woman on a scooter with oxygen tanks rolls up. In a gruff almost angry voice asked if she has been bothering me?
“Nope not at all.” She gives the little girl a nasty grimace “You see I am a Pastor, and she was just sharing a prayer request for the desire of her heart. And I am going to have a little chat with God and see if we can’t make her prayer come true.”
Grandma scrunches up her face and spits out her words, saying, “I don’t believe in God.”
“Well that’s too bad, but ya know what? Your unbelief doesn’t count, this is between Angela and Me and God.”
Angela’s face was grinning ear to ear and I got a hug. Then Granny croaked, “Come, it is time to leave.” And with a wink and a wave they left.
At that time my number was called and the service manager comes up and says, “You really a Pastor?”
“Yup,” I said.
“Think God was listening?”
“He was standing in the room taking notes the whole time.”
The service manager chuckles and says, “So how can I help you?”
This post was written on May 27. Jeff and Yvan leave for Coos Bay permanently today. They have been our friends, co-workers and supporters for almost a decade. They have helped some of the most needy in society. They have been accomplished artists, both visually and verbally on this website and elsewhere. When I really needed someone to unburden on, they were always there. We will miss them deeply. -Pastor Steve
Down to 76 hours. Tomorrow we transport the last of the studio to Coos Bay and leave the the truck at the R V Park……sigh,
First time I left friends and family was when I entered into the Military. But there was the thought of coming back. The second time was when I was going to war and the thought of Never coming back was on my front burners always, BUT I did come back.
Then the family moved to Oregon and I was left behind. Now I back to leaving friends and family again, and starting over in a town and part of the state that I know no one, have no contacts, no one to reach out to except the Lord.
Once upon a time I was in a jail cell with Randy Alcorn and Ron Rohman and about 15 other men. A jailer walked into the cell and says,”Awk! a bunch of Christians! Too bad they won’t let us take them out and just shoot them.” I looked at Randy and said, “Well, the apostles have nothing on us.” And we laughed and then burst into song of praise. I share that because this is how the brothers and sisters of the first church were thinking and feeling, being forced to move to a place where they only have each other, and have to start over again. It is also how the refugees must feel.
I find it amazing how the Lord is teaching Yvan and I things we may never had thought about……We need your prayers more than ever now……..
And on that day a great persecution began against the church in Jerusalem, and they were all scattered throughout the regions of Judea and Samaria, except the apostles. Acts 8:1
A woman driving a brand new $54,000 Truck walks up and drops a few coins into a container and walks over to her truck which is decorated with the cross and shadows kneeling before it, gets in drives away.
She is followed by a man wearing a large silver cross and he drops a few coins into the woman’s can and walked over to a 2016 Mercedes Roadster, with a big Christian Gold Fish that had the word “Pastor” in the middle, gets in drives off.
Several others come read the sign and walk away.
I was so ashamed and I got out reached for the billed fold pulled out some bills and put her in her hand……….
And we wonder why the nation is under judgment.
I see a city that would welcome the homeless as neighbors and equal citizens
I see a city that would create space for everyone to live, without harassment, without fear.
I see a time when parents would no longer use the poor as a warning against laziness, but use their teaching time to spread compassion.
I see green spaces where the poor may sleep and the housed move freely among them, without fear, without anger.
I see a place where those who cannot be hired can work and be paid in a balance between their ability an their liability.
I see a time when no one is measured by the size of their paycheck, or the value they give an employer, but by the beauty they create and the depth of compassion they show.
I see a county that places people before property, that puts need before power, equality before class prejudice.
I envision a place that will first ask, “what do you need?” before, “This is what we will do.” An elected body who has lived with the poorest so that they might truly represent all the citizens and not just a select group.
I envision a law enforcement that stirs respect and not fear. Officers who will only respond to crimes, not whines concerning people they refuse to understand.
I see a city where the highways are used to bring food to the hungry, warmth for the cold, shelter for the wet, bathrooms and showers for those who lack hygiene. I see a government who will freely provide this, because their citizens are in need, and for no other reason.
I speak into being a community that loves, that provides, that does not hold to an arbitrary distinction of “deserving” and “undeserving” but is generous because they want to be known to the world as a place of giving and grace.
You have a work history, but something went terribly wrong. Perhaps it’s nothing physical, but you are no longer able to function. You do all you can to fix it, but you end up on the street anyway. You hear from someone to apply for disability. You apply. You are denied.
Then someone tells you that everyone is denied disability at first, so you appeal. You get a lawyer– if they take your case it’s likely you will win your appeal. They put you through a psych evaluation, they gather up witnesses, the look at your work history. After three years, you get your day in court.
The judge is kind, but he has his business to do. He listens to your supporters, perhaps a friend or two. They all say the same thing: “Can’t function” “Can’t work with others” “Can’t be on time”… Failure, failure, failure. You hold your head high, not listening, not believing, because you can’t accept that this is you.
But the judge believes the reports, the testimony. He approves your disability. After the trial, when you are alone, you weep, because now it is legally proved what you had heard from those who never believed in you: you are worthless.
After a number of months you get the money. You get an apartment. You escape some of the dreadful, deadening stress. And you realize you can do something with your life. You volunteer, you do something positive in your life. You spend the rest of your life disproving what was spoken about in that room.