after Joanna

...But then she rolled over and looked out of her window and up to the sky and realized something. No matter what had happened in the last few days, or how much she had cried and mourned, today was a new day. A new sunrise had given way to all of the pain she could now release, and begin to understand what he meant by the kind of peace that He could give. That it hadn’t been a peace like the world gives, because the world had hurt her heart. But peace that could be found in him. She realized that for every tear she had released, He was counting them, and they mattered so much.

For today, she truly understands what it meant when she heard the words, “Oh death, where is your sting,” because the One whose death mattered most had given her life again. It couldn’t undo all that had happened, still she found peace.

Praise God. He’s alive.

desperate

I’m just so desperate.

I’m desperate to see God revive His church. I’m desperate to see His people enter back into their church buildings; not because that’s where He is, but because of their want to share what He has been doing in their lives as they stay tucked away due to Covid.

I’m desperate to embrace a new norm, because it has shown me that it was never about the church building, rather about being the church.

I’m desperate to tell others of a God who poured into me during my loneliest hours and spoke.

I’m desperate to tell the story of how God never wanted anything but love for His people, but used this time to revive a generation who is crying out to Him.

I’m desperate for Him.

pantry

Week 2 is in the books, y’all.

Call me unoriginal, but I found myself at the Storehouse again yesterday, bagging goodies for the folks that came through the pantry and praying over them as they left. I am so blessed that God brought me to this place where the spirit of God is so thick that it could be cut with a knife. I am so blessed by this ministry and thank God for its existence.

Now that school is out for the summer, there have been lots of little ones coming through. Of course you know I am loving that though it does seem to bring some mixed emotions as they rip into the bag of food that they just picked from the shelf; happy that they have some food to eat yet somber wondering what they would have done if places like the Storehouse, Soul Food mission cafe, and Bethlehem House didn’t exist.

God, please continue to bless these ministries as they reach out to people who need to know that they are loved and that their life is important to not only the community of Conway, but moreso to you.

The best story of the day belongs to a young man who is 8 years old. *Jackson was there with his mom and after I had bagged up their groceries, I asked mom if there was anything specific she wanted to pray about and this sweet little voice said, “Pray? What does that mean?” As I explained to him what it meant to pray and how God hears us and how we are never alone, I asked him if he knew who Jesus was. He replied, “I’m not sure. I think I have heard of him before but would you tell me anyway?” With that question, the heart of this children’s ministry volunteer jumped with excitement as I told him that God had a son for us because he loves us so much and that Jesus was his name and he wanted to be our friend. I told *Jackson that God would listen to us as we prayed and sometimes he would talk back and he got real quiet and put his hand up to his ear and said, “I don’t hear anything,” and I said that sometimes he talks to us when we pray to him so Jackson said, “Well, let’s pray then!”

The prayers of this sweet little boy will forever be in my heart. He said,” God,I don’t really know who you are but this lady says that you had a son named Jesus who loves me and I think I would like it if you would live in my heart and leave with me today. I’d also like it if you would give me some Pokemon stuff, too.”

The tear that slipped down my cheek as Jackson prayed the first prayer of his life quickly gave way to a chuckle as I realized how important the faith of a child is to our Father. This week at VBS at my church, Conway First church of the Nazarene, we gave the kids in attendance a yellow bracelet that reads “Watch for God.” I gave mine to Jackson and as he left I thought about how good God was to allow me to see him move in Jackson’s heart. Scripture says, “My heart says of you, ‘Seek his face.’ Your face, Lord, I will seek.” (Psalm 27:8) When we seek God, he always gives us more than enough of his spirit.

I hear a lot of “Bible belt” talk and how because of where we live in this nation, we automatically must know who Jesus is and how to pray, but that is not true. God bless the missionaries that travel to the far ends of the world; also bless the ones that I am fortunate enough to have met along this path that God has led me; there are truly some amazing missionaries in Conway, Arkansas.

If you are willing to pray for *Jackson and his mom, thank you so much. If you are like Jackson and want a relationship with Jesus, please let me or someone else know. You can send me a message via messenger, or come boldly as you are and in the comments let me know.

Love to you all.

Through His lens

"I just can't take it anymore. I just can't go on like this. I just don't want to live. I just don't want him to hurt me anymore. I am scared. If only you knew how much it hurt. If only you knew what it was like to live this way. Please, God, take this pain away."

The last 24 hours of my life have been a whirlwind of grief, fear, anxiety, mania, brokenness, hopelessness, heartbreak, and I have privately cried more since yesterday than as long as I can remember. No, this pain is not my own, but it sits on me. My heart hurts for them. Not just one broken person, but many. So many hurting. So many desperate to have a life that brings any semblance of peace. Yet none can be found.

My mind wrestles with the young woman who fled a relationship that nearly killed her, yet rests in knowing that she got away. That the fear that struck both of us when we saw HIM was crippling, yet she is now safe. That when she trembled as she cried tonight, it wasn't because she was still afraid, rather because she wasn't anymore. And that is where I saw God.

For the man who called me from the parking lot of the emergency room, ready to pull the trigger because he couldn't take it anymore: God sat with him, and he is now safe.

For the young mama so desperate to fill a hole that her children used to fill, yet continues to find a way to speak about her love for them even in their absence, that must be God.

And for the young woman typing this, who used to say to herself that if her family knew how much she hurt that they would surely understand why she decided to leave them, she was found by God, too.

And to anyone who reads this and finds themselves hurting, there are people who care. Reach out, we're here. More and most importantly, God has a way of restoring us in time and where you are now is not where you will be forever.

Weary

During the overnight hours, the town of Conway had an layer of ice poured upon it and I’m convinced that no one has felt the sting of cold weather like our local homeless population. The

Conway Ministry Center

began making special accommodations to be open extended hours due to the forecast. What a difference it has made.

What I have seen is that my unsheltered friends are tired. They have trickled in, weary and cold, hungry and hurting, and desperate to just be still. Many have simply slept, some barely waking up long enough to eat something warm before returning to the comfort of a bed with fresh sheets and a new pillow. Others eat so much, like they are preparing for the possibility of a day where they will have to leave and finding a meal won’t be so easy.

It is in this place where you will find the weary drag their tired souls to a place of refuge where I pray they know how loved they are.

So that’s where we will be. Soon the weary will be us, yet we will keep coming back, day after day, night after night: to the warming station. Like those that we are called to care for, to feed, to offer comfort to, to clothe, to shelter, to pray with and for, we will continue to do just that.

And maybe, just maybe, they will see Jesus.

“Preach the Gospel at all times. And when necessary, use words.”

Joanna

One year ago today, I lost a client. Her name was Joanna and man, was she something.

So many in the homeless community knew Joanna because she had a way of pulling people in need to the places where they could find resources. She was a regular fixture of the Ministry Center and could be found regularly giving out snack cakes or water bottle additives from the lobby. What she had, everyone had. That's just how she was. The day she died, something happened to me and it's taken this year to discover that healing from her death has been harder than I ever would have imagined. Truth be told, I didn't recognize that the trauma of the situation had caused a change in my heart. It would take a simple Sunday school lesson for me to see it clearly like I do now. Let me explain.

Joanna was used to asking me for rides. It happened atleast once a week where she'd hop in the car with me and I'd take her somewhere to get a meal or back to her hotel. The last day I saw her alive, I couldn't give her a ride. I had to tell her no. Joanna walked out of my office and within fifteen minutes, had been hit and killed by a tractor trailer. My mind immediately went to, "If I would have given her a ride, she would be alive." No one could tell me differently.

The change didn't happen overnight, but looking back, I can see how it touched every part of my life. At first, I thought I didn't deserve the right to claim to love and care for people because I couldn't care for her. Masked under the label of being "Covid safe," I withdrew and that started something dark and scary in my life. Before long, I was believing the lies that would tell me that my husband deserved better. My kids deserved better. I wasn't worth the job that I had, and didn't even deserve to carry the banner of Christ.

I thought I wasn't worthy of the love of God, and surely he loved the world enough to send His Son, but that couldn't be for me. I wasn't worth it.

It wasn't until I confessed to my inner circle how I was feeling, did healing begin. They began to send me scripture and songs that reminded me of the Father's love for me. Healing began and now I can't imagine not having my small group of friends, my family (work and home) and my church to lift my eyes back to the Father who was holding my hand through all of my pain and telling me that I was worth the saving that God so freely gives.

I guess I am saying all of that to say this. A year ago if you would have asked me if I had a firm foundation of faith, I would have told you yes, I did! I have experienced Christ in some of the darkest places of my life: in addiction, in the loss of a pregnancy, of my marriage; my God has proven himself faithful more times than I could ever count! But I truly know that there is an enemy of our souls and friends, he doesn't always come like a whirlwind, destroying everything in a big way. Sometimes he sneaks in when we don't see and plants something so small, by the time we are aware, it's huge. That's why we have to put on the armor of God and stay in his Word, because it is Truth. It is alive, and I'm thankful for its words for jumping off the page during Sunday school.

I'll end with this. One of my favorite stories from the Bible comes from Luke 8 and it's about the bleeding woman who was desperate to get healing from Jesus as he walked through a crowd of people. She's so desperate to encounter Him and I can look back and remember times in my life that I was this woman, craving for God to bring healing to my pain. Jesus's words, "Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace," have spoken to me before, but when I imagine Jesus's voice, it has always been soft, soothing. This particular Sunday, I heard those very words said back to me in a way that I believe God knew he had to express to me in a way that would get my attention. He said, "Daughter! Don't you hear me? I've given you healing before. I have delivered you before. Now go, and get the peace that only I can give you now." The soothing voice that I had once heard was now being boldly said to me in a way that would shake me from the darkness and bring me back into His light. I'm so thankful that the Word of God is alive, for that is the only place that I could have possibly found healing.

Dear God,

My heart goes out to the one tonight that is hearing something that is not from you and is believing it. God, I know you know their pain. Would you pour your light into the darkness that surrounds them? Would you remind them that they are precious to you? That you paid a price for them, too? That they are loved and a treasured gift. Thank you for saving me out of the darkness and for making a garden out of a grave for me. And thank you to the person reading this that gets to see their garden, too.

Amen

87Sue E Wilson, Lynetta Baker Williams and 85 others

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The Long Nights

 Pandemic. 

I'm sick of this word, and to be quite frank, have wished at times that I could just pretend like nothing was happening. For me, it's the isolation. Sure, I have been around people. I have continued to work. The Ministry Center continues to feed the hungry and care for people's needs, but the isolation I speak of comes when I am at home. When my kids and I, after months of being in close quarters for the last five months, have retreated. The little guy has taken over the living room, the teenager stays shut in his room, and my bedroom, which served as my work office for three months, has become my own apartment. We see each other, sure. I still cook meals. I still do the laundry. I am, after all, mom. But after so long, I have looked up to find that separation from one another has happened. Apparently, twenty-four hours of being around each other, at seven days a week no less, is a constraint. So the natural thing to do is get comfortable. We settled. They do them. I do me. And once every blue moon, we come out of our comfort zones to play Jenga or something. Or go to the pool together. Or play music together. Still, isolation is apparent. 

Something has happened during that time. To all of us. Our routines have been disrupted. There is no rise and shine and get kids off to school. My prayer time was disrupted, my devotional time was disrupted, all because all I did have, was time. Kinda ironic, isn't it? I lost time because I had too much of it. And when the slightest thing came up in my schedule and I needed to be somewhere or do something, I would get nervous thinking about how I could squeeze one more thing into my day when truth be told, time was all I had. Sure, there was a time when I was working twelve hours a day and since it was all from home for a period, there was that added feeling that I was always behind and that catching back up was impossible. I now see how unhealthy things began to manifest when I found myself checking voicemails from midnight to four am, just waiting for the next emergency to strike. I began to live in fear of leaving, what was coming next, and all of the things that creep into a mama's head when she is left to her own vices. I was streaming the news 24/7 as well, and watching youtube videos that were producing a less than fruitful harvest in my life. I was seeking my peace from the world, and the world had none to give. 

Last weekend, my family was going to start going back to the church in person. We have been watching online pretty much since April, but I felt checked in my spirit to let go of the fear that I was holding on to, and go. Not turn on my screen at home and tune in, but rather, go. Unfortunately, my husband had some work issues come up and we pushed our start backdate to today. A stomach bug hit our house over the weekend and just to play it safe, I went to church alone today. However, it wasn't before I battled demons all night, Saturday night. I was exhausted this morning, was cranky and unsupportive to my husband who already wasn't feeling good, and by the time I made it to church, I just sat and cried.

But, I worshipped. Somehow. 

Then and there, I threw myself at the foot of the cross where I barely had the words to cry out to God how sorry I was. How much I had missed him. How I had put my relationship with him in a tiny box that I could control based on my routine, instead of inviting him into every heartbreaking moment that had happened over the course of the last five months. The people I had lost. The internal struggle I had felt. The fear that hung over me. Fear that started off small, but would have reduced me to the shell of a person that God had saved me to be. Not because of who I was, but because of who he was. Yet, he beautifully reminded me that as I sank further to the floor, separated on that socially distanced altar, that he was right there beside me. That he had never left me, but that when I was weak and lacked the words to say to him, he knew my heart and still offered peace in the pandemic. 

There's so much more, and I plan to share it, but for now, I think I'll just leave this here. 

My God, how He loves us so.