It’s not easy to “beat the street.”  The road to a better life is full of obstacles and setbacks.  I know dozens of people who have succeeded in moving out of the homeless life. They faced the same setbacks as others, but they never gave up.  Lots of people throw up their hands and say, “What’s the use?” but the ones who make it keep pushing forward.  When they get knocked down they pull themselves back up, scraping and clawing for any advantage they can find.

Denise and Lavelle pursued every avenue they could to find affordable housing.  They left no stone unturned. It reminded me of Jesus’ parable of the persistent widow who pestered the judge until she got her justice.  Bob (homeless for 30+ years) worked for a landscape company that paid cash under the table.  The first week his boss didn’t pay him, he left.  For the next month, he wore out a pair of shoes walking the streets, looking for a job.  Finally, he landed a good job as a plumber’s helper for a big contractor.  He still holds that job 14 years later and is still off the street.   

After reflecting on the conversations I had with these friends who have overcome homelessness, I concluded that three changes happened in their lives and in the way they saw themselves.

• Somebody believed in them.
• They believed in themselves and saw themselves worthy of a better life.
• They had something bigger than themselves to live for.

Somebody Believed in Them

People trapped in poverty too often believe they can never make it.  When they reach deep inside themselves for strength and determination, it’s not there.  They need someone outside of their peer group to look them in the eye and say, “I know you can make it.” Here is where I have seen young people shine in their ministry with the poor.  For Bob, it was Esther.  For David it was a group of girls who he came to see as his little sisters.  In my experience, this is the foundation for a new life.  It can still take years, but we can plant that seed of hope.

They Believed in Themselves

It’s sad and frustrating to see someone so close to making it off the street they can touch it, only to push their self-destruct buttons and fall back into homelessness.  Rob, who was just two weeks from a new job and a new life, succumbed to the temptation to revert back to drugs.  A few weeks later he told me this: “I gotta start seeing myself the way you all see me.  I’m a good guy.  I deserve better.  I guess I just haven’t believed that yet.” At some point, homeless people need to “own” the words of encouragement they get from others.  Once they believe that they are worthy of success, they have taken a huge step toward a better life.

They Had Something Bigger than Themselves to Live For

It’s important to have a compelling reason to push through the disappointments and setbacks the homeless experience as they work to beat the street.  That “something bigger” can be a significant other, children, or grandchildren.  But for most of the homeless people I know who have made it, that something bigger was Jesus.  When Jesus defined His own ministry with the poor, it was to preach the Good News.  We should take every opportunity to follow His example and introduce people to the One who can pull them through those times of discouragement and disappointment.

Building on the Foundation

Once the foundation of these three essentials is in place, we can build on it to overcome the other obstacles poor and homeless people face: lack of education, life skills, interpersonal skills, job skills and work ethic, as well as entitlement mentality and addictions.  But that’s a topic for another day.

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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.

The post It’s All I Remember appeared first on Teens Opposing Poverty.

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.

The post Beautiful Connections appeared first on Teens Opposing Poverty.

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.

The post The Guy on the Grate appeared first on Teens Opposing Poverty.