1. Our first night in town, the group took a tour of the city and was informed about how we could pray for the city and its people. Although this was my third prayer tour of Houston, I become extremely overwhelmed with the amount of things to pray for:
-> The relationship between homosexuals and the church
-> The human trafficking industry
-> The human traffickers themselves
-> The poverty of the city
-> The homeless of the city
-> The fatherless children of Houston
-> The single parent households
The list goes on and on. I became angry. I questioned how it was physically possible to pray for all of the things that needed prayer. I questioned how to even pray for those things. What do I tell God? What do I ask of him? I felt frustrated that although I would pray for these things, it was likely that I will the never see the impact of those prayers. To be honest, I felt that some of those situations would never be solved in my lifetime. I guess you could say I questioned the value of my prayers and the willingness of my God to answer them.
2. I expected to reconnect with my friends, but that didn't really happen. Since I am student teaching this semester, I haven't been around my best friends a lot. Most of them were on this trip, and I wanted to rekindle friendship that I feel have weakened this semester.
The cards were not in my favor. I was with mostly new people. This seemed pure nonsense because I am graduating in May. Why forge new relationships when I won't be around to follow through with them? is what I was thinking.
I dedicated a whole page of my journal to three words:
The fringes suck.
3. Open Door ministry was my first site. I was blessed to sit and talk with a 23 year old man named Stephen, who was recovering from an addiction to alcohol and crack-cocaine. He began drinking and smoking Marijuana when he was 14. Our conversation started when I asked him about his tattoos. I could hardly believe that he was merely 2 years older than me and was already going through such crisis. It was scary.
He has been clean for almost 3 weeks. This was such a picture of hope for me. However, this hope would be questioned later in the week.
4. My last ministry site was Crossroads, a breakfast, lunch, and basic needs center for homeless men and women. I was lucky enough to sit at tables and talk with the people at Crossroads. After talking with Terry and various others, a new face sat beside me.
"Seth," he said, reading my name tag. "That's a Biblical name; a son of Abraham."
"Third son of Adam, actually," I told him, smiling.
"Ah. Well Matthew, MARK, Luke, John. My name's Mark, maybe you're familiar with that name," Mark said, smirking.
Instantly I knew he was a joker. After making me laugh a lot, Mark pulled out his wallet.
"I was panhandling on the corner this morning, and a woman stopped a gave me 30 bucks," he said, showing me three 10 dollar bills.
"What are you going to spend it on, Mark?"
"Crack," he spat without missing a beat.
His head tilted back and a cackle left his throat.
"How dare you," I thought. "How dare you spend that money that was given to you. You accepted it under false pretenses, telling this woman that it was for food and clothing."
"You see," he said, "I like to build clientele. If I stand in certain spots on a regular basis, the same people are sure to pass by. I tell a few jokes, make them laugh, and take their money."
Later in our conversation, I felt prompted by the Spirit to ask very honest questions.
"Why do you smoke crack, Mark?"
His head did a double take. He swallowed his coffee hard before responding. "To stop shooting heroine."
"Do you want to stop smoking crack, Mark?"
"Yes and no," he said as if he had thought about this before.
"Explain," I demanded.
"Well, Seth, I have no skill set. I have several felonies, and no one wants to hire a guy like me. Also, what else is there to do? I don't know how to do anything but smoke crack and take people's money."
He abruptly changed the subject and asked me about my family.
"Its interesting, Mark. My mother's side of the family lives in relative poverty, and many of my family members struggle with drugs and alcohol." I told him, giving him an honest response, much like the ones I anticipated from him.
"Oh, so there's no hope for them," he said, picking up his coffee and sipping it.
"I refuse to believe that Mark," I said sternly.
Just after that, I was called away from the table to work in the back room. Before leaving his company, I shook his hand and told him that it was a pleasure to meet him. Remembering my experience with Stephen earlier in the week, I looked into his eyes and said, "There is always hope, Mark."
"Meh," he said, shrugging his shoulders and turning away without returning the formalities.
I dwelled on his "Meh" and his body language for the rest of the trip. It was crushing.
5. The nonsense above about being upset by my group selection was dispelled on Friday. The above scenarios and experiences would have never happened had I been placed in a different group. Because I was in a different group than Tasha, she was able to have some really incredible and life-changing experiences.
I got to watch my best friend find herself. For the first time, she is discovering herself and her passions. I stand with her, and am on her side even when those closest to her are not. She is stability and support in my life. I am so proud of her, and I love her more today than I ever have.
So, as you can tell, it was a doozy of a week. God is breaking my bitter Spirit and crushing my recent disinterest in him. The most memorable words that came out of my mouth this week were:
"I can't wait to be different."
And its true. I physically CAN NOT wait. Waiting would be in direct opposition to the momentum of this week.
So, here's to changing.
Peace, Love, and Change, ya'll.
Seth
