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Miranda

by Kristen Musselman

Kristen was TOP’s intern in 2012. Here she shares a powerful encounter as we served homeless people in Richmond Virginia when we partnered with the Jeremiah Project a summer camp for middle-schoolers.

When I initially approached Miranda, the 34-year old sat alone on a bench. She greeted me with a cold stare and refused to introduce herself. Headphones intentionally shut her away from any interactions with the strangers surrounding her in Monroe Park. After an unsuccessful attempt to start conversation, I sat quietly next to her for a few minutes. I needed a water break anyways.

The pouting woman, alcohol in hand, seemed to be trying to prove to me that she needed none other than beer and headphones to make her happy. I couldn’t tell why I continued to sit with her; I felt awkward sharing the long silence together. Something kept telling me that, although this woman seemed to have zero desire to chat, I needed to stay with her anyway. Eventually, I took a second shot at starting conversation.

All morning prior to arriving at Monroe Park, I had prayed this prayer: “Lord, break my heart for what breaks Yours.” What was to follow was no-doubt an answer to that prayer. As I was asking Miranda questions, she blurted out that she’s been a victim of domestic violence for the past 16 years. She told me that she had never shared this with anyone before; I was blind-sided with her sudden openness. As she began sharing her story, her expression transformed from mistrust to softness, to buckets of tears.

Her story is repulsive, heart-wrenching. Her boyfriend has physically abused her in ways that I cannot even fathom. His most recent abuse was lacerating her whole thigh and groin, supposedly to prevent her from cheating on him. Miranda is 7 months pregnant, too, with her fifth child. I met her in her final attempt to run away from him.

Miranda and I sat together, crying, and eventually one of my middle school friends, Kayla, joined us. Kayla & I had no idea how to help her, aside from giving our ears to listen. Yet the Lord works in tremendous ways. One of our adult leaders had been through a similar situation with her ex-husband, and she was able to relate perfectly to Miranda, offering her wisdom and guidance that I would never be able to give. She shared with Miranda particular Psalms that were significant to her during her own past. Between sobs and the steady, repetitive phrase “I’m so scared,” Miranda listened.

We offered Miranda the practical help that she needed. Our adult leader drove her to the hospital, where she was readily admitted for prenatal care. As Miranda got up from the bench, she threw away her half-finished beer. Earlier she had told us that there was absolutely nothing to appease her pain and loneliness but alcohol; now she was hopeful for change.

After Miranda was driven away, I suddenly realized that about ten middle school students had been listening to our conversation and were deeply moved. We then started one of the most powerful prayer circles I have ever been in. I think we all felt so much love for Miranda that we practically stumbled over each other’s words to insert prayer after prayer. We finally stopped praying 15 minutes later. I have rarely seen kids bond so intensely, particularly over such selfless love for another person. My conversation with, and ensuing prayers for Miranda were by far the most rewarding part of the Jeremiah Project.

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Images

by Steve Jennings

Thirty four years ago this November, we packed a few teens, me, and a trunk-load of coats and sweaters in my 1976 Oldsmobile Cutlass and headed to the intersection of 15th Street and Constitution Avenue for the first of hundreds of “TOP Trips” that would follow.

Recently, as I reflected on that first night, my mind’s eye was flooded with images that have come from this ministry over the years. I was able to capture a few on-camera but most live only in my memory. I would like to share a few of them with you.

Ross

The old man pushed his grocery cart to a low wall in front of the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, DC and sat down with a grunt and a sigh. I sat down next to him and started a conversation. For the first five minutes or so, it was a friendly conversation with a delightful old gentleman. Then things began to change.

Ross started telling me how his blood ran through the steam tunnels in the Federal Triangle of DC and that he gave life to all of the federal workers. He went on to say that he was the father of “all the Indian nations”.

As he told me these tall tales, the look in his eyes changed. It seemed as though he looked through me as he spoke. That was my first encounter with a delusional person. There would be many to follow. But, despite his delusions, Ross became my friend. He would call me “Stevie.” The last time I saw him before he passed away, we had a wonderful, delusion-free conversation that lasted over 30 minutes.

The Guy on the Grate

We were serving homeless people in a little plaza at 21st St and Virginia Avenue in DC. As we carried our stuff to the park, we walked by a man passed out on the sidewalk. When I saw him, I decided to bring some food and water out for him just as soon as we set our stuff down. I returned to the spot less than 2 minutes later only to discover he was gone. I didn’t see him anywhere. Maybe God’s reason for all of this was to show us far homeless life can pull you down.

homeless man on grate
A homeless man lies on a steam grate in Washington, DC

Beautiful Connections

Esther had just finished her first semester of college and was ready to head to DC to minister with the homeless the Sunday before Christmas. I told her how her homeless friend of 5 years, Bob, was able to walk away from the alcohol addiction that held him captive on the street, get a job and move into a rented room. She was literally jumping up and down for joy at the prospect of seeing him. I called him to make sure he would be there.

It was gray and rainy at the park when we arrived. Esther was serving food out of a van. Bob found her and ran to the van. The two of them embraced. Bob’s back was to me, but I could see the smile on Esther’s face. For 5 years she shared his pain and struggles. Now she got to share his victory (which was a miracle, by the way). I wish I had a camera, but that image will be forever etched in my memory. Sometimes prayer and friendship are the two most important things to change a life.

Another special connection took place in Lynchburg about 10 years ago. Caitlyn’s youth group was serving in Lee Park. She joined several of us as we prayed for a young mother whose children were in foster care because she allowed them to stay in the house too long with her now-ex-husband who abused her.

After a couple of adults prayed, Caitlyn began her prayer with “Hey God, it’s me again.” By the time Caitlyn had finished praying, the young mother was sobbing. Caitlyn reached across the prayer circle and hugged her. The two of them spent the next half hour crying, praying, talking and finally laughing together. Both young women were forever moved and impacted by that moment. You may recognize this image from our Facebook page.

Teen comforts distraught single Mom
Caitlyn comforts a distraught young, single Mom

These are but a few of the images I carry of my 30+ years in this ministry. It hasn’t always been easy, and there have been some painful, difficult moments, too. But they pale in comparison to the joy of serving and teaching others how to share in that joy.

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It’s All I Remember

This year Teens Opposing Poverty celebrates 30 years of ministry!  As part of that celebration, we will share stories and insights that have helped to shape us.  Here is one from 2011.

Even when you devote your life to serving the poor, your priorities at times get skewed.  The true story that follows is in part a confession, but it’s also a lesson I learned: Never sacrifice the important things on the altar of the urgent.

My cell phone rang.  I didn’t recognize the number and debated whether or not I would answer it. It was the day before Easter.  My wife, daughter and I were having dinner with my parents and I really didn’t want to be bothered.  But for some reason I still can’t fathom, I answered it.

 The woman on the other end identified herself as Elizabeth.  She said that she and her husband lived on a fixed income and that they were almost out of food.  It was near the end of the month so the timing was right for a request like that.

 I’d like to say that my heart was filled with compassion for her at the moment, but it wasn’t.  In my role as the director of a ministry that works with homeless and poor people I get calls like this all the time, so I selfishly resented the intrusion on my family time and told her I would help her on Monday just to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

 Come Monday morning, I walked into my office overwhelmed by my “do list” with almost everything on it screaming “URGENT!” at me.  I rolled up my sleeves and dug in, hoping I could cross off at least a few things by the end of the day.  Right about the time I found my “groove” on a writing project, my phone rang.  It was Elizabeth.  I let it roll over to voice mail and forgot about it for a few hours.

 After lunch I checked my messages.  Sure enough, Elizabeth asked me to call her back as soon as possible.  Once again, I have to confess, my heart was not brimming over with compassion.  All I could think about was how much I had to do and how I really didn’t have the time to gather the food and drive ½ hour to Winchester to deliver it.  By the time I did everything, I knew I would lose nearly 2 hours out of my day.

 I wished I hadn’t told her I would take her the food, but I said I would and, since I believe that integrity is a dying virtue in our culture, I was determined to make good on my word.  I left work 20 minutes earlier than normal to take my daughter, Lindsey, to ballet practice so I would have time to get the food from the outreach pantry at my church.  Having her help pack the bags saved at least a little time.

 I dropped Lindsey off at ballet and headed to Winchester, hoping to arrive by 5 pm.  When I got close to the address she gave me, I called Elizabeth.  As I parked my truck along the street I could see an elderly woman standing at the door, waiting. I grabbed the groceries thinking, “This is going to be quick.”  There was so much work to do.

 Elizabeth held the door open as I approached.  She was less than 5 feet tall and looked even smaller because of her stooped shoulders.  Her husband was sitting on the couch of their cluttered-but-clean living room.  He looked at me and nodded, but said nothing.

 I set the grocery bags down.  Elizabeth thanked me and told me they had not eaten all day.  Ah, there was the compassion, along with a healthy conviction about my misplaced priorities.  Someone was hungry.  I should have made getting food to them my first task of the day, not the last.

 All of a sudden, I wasn’t in so much of a hurry.  We chatted awhile.  After a few minutes her husband joined in the conversation, although he still didn’t move.  As we talked, I learned that on their meager income they not only had to care for themselves but their two grandchildren as well.  The end of the month was always hard for them. 

 I didn’t stay too long.  I knew they were hungry.

 For the life of me, I can’t remember any of the other urgent tasks that faced me that day.  All I remember is that I was blessed with the opportunity to take food to somebody who was hungry.  I guess that’s all that was worth remembering.

“And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart.” Gal 6:9 (NKJV)

Here’s to not growing weary.

God’s grace to you,

Steve Jennings

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Justice for One

Mahatma Gandhi was passionate about justice.  The young Indian-born lawyer found his way to South Africa after finishing law school in London.  When he saw discrimination against Indian people there, he fought for their civil rights.  After achieving success, he returned to India where he organized peasant farmers and urban laborers to resist excessive land taxes and discrimination.  After that, he spent most of the rest of his life securing the independence of India from Britain.

Gandhi fought injustice wherever he saw it and was able to rally an entire nation of people to peacefully challenge the status quo and achieve freedom.

If you look through history, you will find people who changed entire cultures by rallying thousands or millions to stand with them against injustice, bigotry and oppression.

Chances are you and I will never do that. For most of us, activism is limited to writing to our governmental leaders and voting our conscience.  We will, at best, play only a small part in transforming our society.

Does that mean we can’t do much to right wrongs and rid the world of injustice?  No.  Each of us can bring about enormous change… for one person.

I have spent 27 years working with people on the bottom rung of society’s ladder.  For them every single day is a struggle to survive. They are beaten down to the point where they have difficulty taking advantage of even the best opportunities presented to them.  They need advocates.  They need people to help them fight the injustices they face.

You can realize justice for one.  You can advocate for one.  You don’t have to change the whole world.  Just help change the world for one person.

That person may be poor, in prison, in an orphanage, a nursing home, or a hospital.  They may not be able to work their way through their situation.  But with someone to speak for them, they can triumph.

So now you know who to advocate for.  To whom do you advocate?

  • Start with the person you are helping.  They may not feel they are worthy or capable of a better life.  They may not think they have what it takes to fight that war.   It is our job let them know that we believe in them so they can believe in themselves. If their heads and hearts aren’t in the right place, anything else they do is more likely to fail.
  • Advocate for opportunity.  It may involve helping them find the opportunity they need, fill out applications, physically going with them to help them through whatever the next step might be, or just being there to answer questions or give counsel and advice.
  • Advocate for resources. Peter’s 1986 Ford conversion van (it was his home as well as his transportation) transmission blew.  We put out an appeal for funds to get it fixed.  He is now back to work and will soon move into an apartment.
  • Advocate for legitimacy.  Be willing to be a reference for jobs or entry into programs.  This means that you have to really get to know the person you are helping.
  • Advocate for justice.  I hate courtrooms, but I have been in more of them than I care to remember to offer moral support or to testify on behalf of someone I’m helping.  I have also helped them put together appeals for when they have been wrongly denied services.

It sounds like a lot and it can be taxing. If you pick up this mantle, don’t be surprised if there are times when you will grow “weary in well doing.” But if you are willing to step just a little out of your comfort zone you can bring about justice for one.   Then their world (and yours) will never be the same.

God’s grace to you,

Steve Jennings, Executive Director

Teens Opposing Poverty

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Church Needs Better Infrastructure to Expand Ministry in Low Income Neighborhood. Really?

Part 1 of a series of blogs on Messy Ministry

A well-heeled congregation began an outreach to a low income neighborhood.  They started a food pantry and began meeting other physical needs for that community.  They started well.  Working with two local churches they were able to provide things that were truly needed instead of just guessing.  Their assistance provides families enough food to get through the month, and if they do nothing else, they are making a difference.

I was talking with a leader in the church about whether they planned to expand their involvement in that low income community.  Do they have any plans to get involved with people on a personal level? The answer was a “Yes, but…”

“Yes, but we’re not sure which way to go. There is no infrastructure for more involved ministry.”

The answer struck me as odd, but I didn’t have a response to it during the meeting.  As I drove home I pondered that phrase, “no infrastructure”.  What kind of infrastructure does it take to get to know people?  The first step in relational ministry is to get to know the people you are serving. Address their perceived needs.  Don’t assume you know what they’re hungry for.

Is there a place where people hang out in that community?  A park or playground?  If so, you have the infrastructure you need to get started.  Take a cooler of cold drinks there on a warm day and hang out with them.  Make friends.  That’s a great start.

The church in ministry works with two churches in the community. Do those churches have sanctuaries, parking lots or lawns?  If so, you have the infrastructure you need to get started. If there are no options with the local churches, is there a vacant lot in the neighborhood or a parking lot for a business you can use on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon?  If so, you have the infrastructure you need to get started.

Begin with a community gathering.  A block party is a great way to open doors.  To register for a door prize, a person has to fill out a survey.  From that survey and the conversations you have with people, you can assess where to move next in ministry.

Transformational ministry doesn’t need great infrastructure.  It needs people who are willing to make unlikely friends. It needs people who are willing to spend time with other people.  It needs people who are willing to risk broken hearts and disappointments in order to experience the shared joy of transformed lives.  It needs people who are willing to be transformed themselves.

God’s grace to you,

Steve Jennings, Executive Director

TeensOpposingPoverty.org

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I Have Failed

Yesterday was Good Friday.  When I was a kid, I used to always wonder why they called it “Good”.   After all, it’s a story about betrayal, pain, and death.  Now I understand that what Jesus went through was good for us.  It was VERY good for us.  His suffering and sacrifice paid the price for our sins and gave us the path to fellowship with God.

Every year around Good Friday, I reflect on His suffering and ask myself where I have failed Him.  He did so much for me.  Where have I let Him down?  This year, that reflection has turned my thoughts and my shame to one glaring failure.

Just a few years after giving my life to Jesus, God called me to serve homeless and poor people. [I hate using the terms “the homeless” or “the poor.”  They are people, not labels].  I teach youth how to be the hands, feet and loving arms of Jesus for “the least of these.”  Over the last 26+ years I have been humbled by the ways God has used me to transform the lives of others.

There have been successes, both with the youth I have trained and the people they serve.   Some of our youth grew up to become missionaries, pastors and social workers.  Others haveCrucifix on a Wall continued their ministries with poor people into adulthood.

Scores of those we have served have also seen their lives transformed.  I have witnessed miracles of deliverance from addictions, opportunities for housing, and jobs that seemed to come from out of the blue.  It has been an honor to play some part in these transformations.  All of that is good.  But it is not good enough.

I have failed Jesus in a lot of ways, but as I ponder my shortcomings, one failure stands out above the rest.  I blew my chance to share the Good News of Christ with people who desperately need Him; not just once but over and over again.

I take no comfort in the fact that this failure is widespread among American Christians.  I feel sick that someone may be eternally separated from God because I failed to say something.

I am convinced that Satan is perfectly happy for me to help homeless and poor people all day long.  He is perfectly happy for us Christians to fight culture wars and care for our environment.  He loves to see us do those things as long as we don’t tell people about Jesus.

I pray that my failure ends here.  I pray that it ends today.  Job #1 for every follower of Christ is to preach the Good News and make disciples.  I will no longer hide under the cowardly veil of tolerance but will search out divine appointments to share the greatest story the world has known.  I know the Gospel is offensive to many, so I will offend.

Jesus sacrificed Himself for a reason.  He did not fail us.  I ask you to join me in resolving not to fail Him.

God’s grace to you,

Steve Jennings, Executive Director

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When My Heart Stops Breaking, It’s Time to Leave

For nearly 26 years I have worked with people who have pushed their own self-destruct buttons, fought without success to break the fetters of addiction and suffered from the callousness of a society that prefers to keep its distance from them.

For nearly 26 years my heart has been broken over and over again. With each new crisis in the life of a person we serve, I re-live the heartbreaks of the past.

As I prepare to visit yet another friend going through a tragedy of monumental proportions (sorry, but I can’t tell you about it right now) a part of me can’t help but pray for a healthy dose of “professional detachment”. That part of me yearns to be able to seal this sad situation in a box that I open only when necessary. The rest of the time I can go on my merry way oblivious to the anguish as I perform the more mundane tasks of ministry.

But is that what I really want?

Is it better to keep that emotional distance, or is it better to feel the pain?  I confess that sometimes I “grow weary in well-doing” and even dream of days without a phone call or vision of someone’s suffering or desperate need,  but over the years I have made a discovery:

Walking with people through their pain, sharing grief in their defeats and joy in their victories is the fuel for my passion.

God’s vision for this ministry is the engine and the Holy Spirit is the spark that gets things started every day. But it’s my passion for the people we serve, our staff, volunteers and donors that keeps the engine running on what has become a very long trip.  And I think I have enough fuel to go just a little farther.

God help me if I lose that passion.  God help me if my heart stops breaking.  When that happens it will be time to leave.

God’s grace to you,

Steve Jennings, Executive Director

http://www.TeensOpposingPoverty.org

 

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An Outrageous Challenge to Christians – What If?

I read a portion of a letter dated March 1, 1775 from John Wesley that struck a nerve with me.  Here is what it said:

As to the public affairs, I wish you to be like minded with me. I am of neither side and yet of both… Private Christians are excused, exempted, privileged to take no part in civil troubles. We love and pray for all with a sincere and impartial love. Faults there may be on both sides but such as neither you nor I can remedy; therefore, let us and all our children give ourselves unto prayer and so stand still and see the salvation of God.

Our country is in strife, although it has seen worse strife.  Remember that time about 150 years ago when a half million of us died at each other’s hands?  Or that time about 240 years ago when we took up arms against each other?

Wesley wrote his letter during a time of great strife and made a bold request to the Christians of the age. Most did not heed his counsel, but the proposition got me to thinking about what would happen if we did that now.

What if we as Christians took a break from fighting battles on issues to focus on prayer?

What if we as Christians sincerely prayed for those who oppose us, not asking God to destroy them or even see our way, but to somehow discover Jesus?

What if we as Christians held our tongues for just a season and gave God a chance to make His voice heard above the din of disagreement?

What if we as Christians could put aside our human tendency to “get even” and offer that undeserved merit we call grace?

What if we as Christians really got to know our opponents to find those things on which we can agree and build a dialog from there?

What if we as Christians started a national “Offer Grace Day” where we made a concerted effort to offer kindness to our enemies? Jesus said something about that, didn’t He?

I know this is extreme. And I have no idea how the world would respond if we did this en masse or even if they would notice, but God would notice. We would notice, and perhaps, just perhaps, we might be changed.

God’s grace to you,

Steve Jennings, Executive Director

http://www.TeensOpposingPoverty.org

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Extraordinarily Ordinary

I love living on the edge, pushing the envelope of my faith in my service to Jesus through Teens Opposing Poverty.  I can identify with those who make a call for “radical Christianity.”  But my chosen vocation and avocation are not for every Christian.

Each year, we see over 1,500 youth and adult volunteers serve the poor through our ministry. The vast majority of them won’t choose full-time ministry as their vocation.  The adults have normal jobs and the youth are getting through school.  When they graduate, most of the youth will get jobs and raise families, just like their unbelieving neighbors.  Hopefully, they will stay in the church.

In other words, they will live ordinary lives.

Kristen is an adult volunteer with one of the groups that is involved in our motel ministry. She met a couple at one of the motels and they became close friends.  Kristen has advocated for them, helped the wife get a set of dentures, visits them on a regular basis and invites them to special occasions in her life.  She leads and ordinary life, but by just becoming a caring friend she has done something extraordinary.

If you follow Jesus, you will be anything but ordinary.  The Holy Spirit can guide you to those wonderful, small acts that can impact the lives of others. Living a life filled with righteousness, love, grace, mercy and justice will make you stick out like a sore thumb even if you don’t abandon the ‘burbs for a radical life with the rural or urban poor. You can be a disciple maker and witness for Christ right where you are. Just be true to Him.

People everywhere need a dose of God’s grace, a friend, a listening ear, wise counsel from the Bible, a word of encouragement, a smile on a really bad day and…well, you get the picture.  It doesn’t take much to be extraordinarily ordinary.

God’s grace to you,

Steve Jennings Executive Director

http://www.TeensOpposingPoverty.org

 

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Emotional Gas

Two churches were sharing the duties of the ministry trip for Teens Opposing Poverty on a cool Sunday afternoon.  One brought the hot dogs. The other brought the chili.

We served about 30-40 homeless people in McPherson Square, just a few blocks from the White House. There were no long lines, no rush.  They just kind of trickled in for food.  The atmosphere was relaxed. Our volunteers had lots of opportunities to connect with the people they served..

As we transitioned from mostly serving to mostly talking and visiting, David, Oliver and I stood between the chili and hot dog stations.  Oliver was bringing us up to date on his decision to propose to his girlfriend and told us how good he was feeling right now.  He suffers from a number of chronic health problems.

After some unrelated small talk, the discussion turned to household bills.  David shared the recent break he had gotten on his gas bill.  Oliver was lamenting that the gas company estimates his bill every other month and they always overcharge him. One month he will have a huge bill, the next month he will have a huge credit.

As they continued their conversation, a wave of emotion swept over me.

I have known both of these men for over 10 years. They both used to be homeless, trapped in the prisons of their addictions.  I watched how God used our friendship, relationships they formed with our volunteers and other influences to get their heads and hearts in the right place so they could endure the rigors of overcoming their homelessness.  It wasn’t an easy road for either of them.  There were setbacks too numerous to mention, but they persevered. They beat the streets.

And now they were talking about their gas bills.

I put my hands on their shoulders, looked at them, smiled and asked, “Ten years ago, could you have ever imagined you would be having this conversation right now?”

They they looked at me and at each other. In nearly perfect unison they smiled and said, “Never.”

Who would have ever thought someone could be grateful for a gas bill?

God’s grace to you,

Steve Jennings, Executive Director

http://www.TeensOpposingPoverty.org