Driving Towards a New Year

Have you ever driven across Western Texas? Don’t. The view isn’t very impressive and the towns are hundreds of miles apart. Kent and I are heading from Biloxi, MS to Tucson, AZ for Christmas. We look back on where we have been and feel amazed and blessed. Our journey has certainly been more varied than the West Texas landscape.

After departing Birmingham we spent a few days in Montgomery, Alabama reflecting on what we learned and experienced. From there we stopped in Pensacola, FL to see some family friends (and the beach) before settling in to a week of Katrina reconstruction work.

Camp Sea Shore sits a stones throw from the Gulf of Mexico in Biloxi, MS. I imagine that it occupied a prime piece of real estate when there were other buildings along the coast. The former United Methodist camp now hosts volunteers from the United Methodist Committee on Relief and from Samaritan’s Purse, a disaster relief organization lead by Franklin Graham.

In the beginning of the week Kent and I worked on the house of an elderly woman who had taken a fall and was in the hospital. Our long work days were only punctuated with meals and our very competitive games of ping pong. Catherine and Greg (Eric’s girlfriend’s uncle and cousin-yes I know it sounds like The Jerry Springer Show) joined us for the latter half of the week and together we installed two windows, painted and did some drywall mudding and sanding.

Our experience in Biloxi was unique. We didn’t really tell people about our journey and enjoyed serving as regular volunteers with little notoriety. We were able to meet some of those whose homes we repaired but didn’t need thanks, we simply came to help people rebuild their lives.

Since getting up at 6 AM is not a routine that Kent and I relish, we’ve been taking our time traveling to Tucson. We spent a day in Austin, TX and an afternoon in San Antonio to help break up the driving. Kent’s family will meet him in Tucson and I will fly home for some time with mine. Both of us are looking forward to seeing our families and girlfriends after so much time apart.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, Eric :p

A Compelling Story

Every time I see Alex he tells a compelling story.

The first day we met he told me how his life was trash. He said he had a history of making mistakes: alcoholism, drug addiction, casual sex… the list went on and on. But despite these mistakes, Alex told me he was ready to move on. He said he wanted to make things right with the Lord. He wanted to go into rehab.

The next time I saw Alex, he told me it was too late. He told me he just found out he has HIV. Tears rolled down his face. All hope was gone. He wanted to repent but he believed it was too late.

The very next day, Alex was mugged. His eye was black and his face was cut. He said he never saw it coming–he was hit from behind. He told me he feared for his life.

Five days later, Alex stood healed. He wore a suit, spoke with a smile and his face was smoothly shaven. He said God had blessed him. He told me he had been to Florida to visit his mother. Alex wanted to say he was sorry for his past and let her know of his future struggles. It was the story of the prodigal son. His mother welcomed him back with open arms. Both his mother and sister said they would follow him back to Birmingham, take care of his illness and pass forward the $17,000 Alex’s father had left for him before he died.

Later that week Alex knocked on the door at 11:30 at night. He said he had an emergency. He said his mother needed money for a bus ticket and he needed money for a place to stay.

Three days later, Alex came again at night. He said he was without a bed again. He had a friend who would take him in. But the friend wanted payment. Alex asked if he could burrow $20 to pay for the room till Monday.

Alex called at midnight last night. He said his sister and mom were in town but had no where to stay. RG, the pastor we live with, told him he had no more money to give. He said if the mother and daughter wanted to sleep in his bed he would welcome them. But he simply could not handout anymore money. They talked for 30 minutes. Alex never gave up hope; he insisted he needed the money.

Alex’s story has always been compelling. The problem is I am not sure if Alex’s story has ever been true.

After talking to Alex last night, RG was visibly upset. He sat in the rocking chair–eyes glaring, tears held back. I told him I was sorry. I said he was placed in a very difficult situation. RG explained how difficult the situation was. He told me how every time Alex calls or comes over he asks for money. RG said at first he gave it to him, breaking his own self-imposed rule. But after a while, he became skeptical. So much so that after giving him money Thursday night, he waited outside and followed Alex’s car. He said he followed him to the liquor store. RG said Alex used his money to buy booze.

Meeting Alex makes me wonder who I can trust. Part of me feels used. I feel like I have been spit on.

It makes me wonder if this is how God feels. He always shows me grace and I continue to screw-up. I wonder if God thinks I spit in his face. I wonder if God still trusts me.

When I first met Alex, I felt sorry for him. Today, I think finally know what it means to love him. In all likelihood I will probably never see him again. But I will never forget him. His falsehoods have made me appreciate the compassionate story of God’s love; the unconditional reality of grace.

 

Shades of Grey

If I had to pick a shade to describe Birmingham it would be grey. It is a combination of black and white folks. I found it to be a city of extremes. Not that one side is light and the other dark but rather that both elements exist in each of us.

The questions I’ve encountered here are also very grey; there is no clear answer. I’ve learned that it is living and wrestling with these questions that defines ministry. How do you embody hope to people who live with poverty, addiction and violence? How do you love someone who is addicted to drugs, on the street, and has no interest in changing either situation?

The ministers we’ve worked with here believe in the power of the Gospel to change lives. They’ve seen it happen again and again. With the Gospel, however, there has to be food for the hungry and clothes for the naked. One is not interested in Jesus when they are hungry and freezing on the street.

Beyond basic needs, however, the real challenge comes in healing the sick. We can feed people who are on the street, but how does this heal them? Where is the cure they seek?

There are no easy answers to this question; it dwells in grey. I am convinced that faith and hope are a part of the answer. But so are good public policies and individuals who serve because of the human spirit in each of us.

As Kent and I prepare to leave Birmingham the city is still grey. Maybe a lighter shade but the questions remain. In the midst of our experiences I have again found my call to ministry. It is a call to live each day with God and to wrestle in the uncertain.

God’s Peace, Eric :p