Worship with Homeless Friends

I've never heard him sing out this strong. He wasn't nervous or intimidated by the environment. Last night Noah led worship with Chrystina at Safehouse Outreach. It was surreal to watch Noah on stage doing what he already feels is God's calling on his young life. Grayson and Holden (friends and 2nd Wave bandmates) played in the worship band. The adults in the crowd had a blast. What joy it brought them to see these kids up there rocking their hearts out. Holden was too sick to sing so he played electric guitar with all he had. Grayson played the drums like he owned them. People sang and worshipped and smiled and yelled for more. I'm sure Danny will be posting today from a dad's point of view. What a blessing to worship along with my son. As a mom, I watched with tears in my eyes as Noah shared all that what was inside his heart with a room full of hungry and hurting men and women. After the service, we served up 300 boxes of food. Jesus was there. I'm glad I was too.

Happiness Party

Dovie likes to throw Happiness Parties. When asked what it is, she replies, "A party to celebrate my happiness!" How do you like that? Dovie is surely the happiest kid I know. Her spirit is such a reminder to us to be happy wherever we find ourselves. She adorns the walls with her handmade decorations and constructs a kid-friendly snack menu. Tomorrow she has one such party planned because she knows Danny will be home all day. I have been commissioned to bake brownies for the event. I hope Dovie is always this happy-go-lucky! Thought I'd share this idea in case you need to spread a little cheer this week!

God in the Details

Back in October I asked people to pray this prayer for David: Quick, Get Up. My friend Katie did it. You've got to take a look at what God did. It will blow your mind and strengthen your faith.

Received this message from Katie on facebook:
Several months ago you posted something either here or on your blog about "Quick, get up", and God smacked it right on my heart. I have been driving in the car, been taking a shower, and have woken up in the middle of the night with the need to say "Quick, get up, David" out loud, and I do every time. I don't know if David feels that, but it has blessed me immensely. I love it when God calls me to pray specifically for something. Sorry it has taken me so long to mention it to you. I think that you are a special lady and I feel privileged to pray on your family's behalf.
That's all : ) Hope you are having a good day.

Read this post: Quick, Get Up. Now look back at David's Letter to me. David did feel Katie's prayer. David wrote: "he...was told to get up." Someone named Tim commented on that October post. He prayed David would see that the chains had already fallen off. You should read it. I don't know who he is. But I hope he reads my blog again and sees how God is answering his prayer for my brother. I am so thankful that God is into details.

God Didn't Do It

"It's not God's fault," he said with a laugh that was sincere as anything I've heard him say. David happened to call the night I had gotten the letter and artwork. I was a heap of emotion. "How can you not be mad at the God who allowed this to happen? He didn't stop it," I say feeling a lump rise in my throat. To which David answered, "I can’t explain it. But if I am going to be angry for this, I would have to be angry at God for all the children starving in the world. God didn't do it. Anyway, that is what people who don’t believe say." I had to laugh. He’s right.

David continued, "That’s not what concerns me. I want to know the reason I am still alive when I didn't want to be. I’ve got to learn how to stop the cycle. Every time a tough thing happens to me, I do the same thing. I want to grow up." You are wondering how I have such an impeccable memory? I took notes. He started saying this stuff and I grabbed my notebook.

How does this happen? Why is the victim able to view this more rationally than the observer? I would propose that it is the work of the Holy Spirit. There is so much action happening just beyond our sight – a world of energy, healing and strength. We get so wrapped up in our temporal responsibilities that we sometimes forget the spiritual realm, the undercurrent of our lives.

God gives strength as need arises. Look closely at Isaiah 43:2:
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.”

We are going to walk through junk, struggle through some pretty deep waters. It might splash in our face and cause us to choke, but it will not fill our lungs and steal our life. God is not going to let it overtake us. God knew David was going to need a lot more grace than the average joe to handle what is coming to his mind these days. And I can’t explain it to you any other way. That is not my job anyway! My job, my joy today is to praise the Wonderful Counselor who is holding David’s head above the current. I am witnessing a healing for which I have petitioned God for 20 years. I am grateful that God gives grace as it’s needed.

David's Letter To Me

Dear Cindy,
I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed our visit. It was so nice to see you and touch you. I love you so much and I can’t help feeling sorrow for not being a better brother to you. I know you say the same thing but I was non-existent and hollow. I truly want to make up for the time that I’ve wasted. My tattoo is dark in it’s imagery but light in it’s meaning. My inner child is the dummy. It is broken because I was molested. It is not hanging in the store front window with shiny new clothes on it because no one would want to buy those clothes. So he is alone, maybe in a storage closet. But broken as he is and being a dummy, he became alive and was told to get up. Someone raised him, told him he was loved and wanted. So he sat up. Unable to stand on his own two feet, he listens to God with a band-aid over his mouth because it is time to stop talking and start walking. Bruised but not broken.

Well, I made it through that without tearing up. I want you to put that with the picture on your blog as part of my healing. I got to know that I’m not hiding anymore. Will you do that for me?

Break the silence! I am not ashamed of who I am anymore. Prison has made me grow up in a way that was unexpected. But make no mistake; it was all God and His Holy Spirit that did the work. I’ve just been along for the ride. Well I guess I will close with that.

Your tatt’d up brother,
David

Jesus Died For THIS!

I wanted to hold that little bent hand as I fell asleep Friday night. When I closed my eyes, I saw his picture. I had looked at it all day long. Lying there in the dark, I could still see his despondent eyes. I wanted to comfort him and hold his hand in mine. I reached down and held Jett’s little hand because he was the one laying beside me. I could not comfort the other little boy because he is not real. Praise God! That other little boy is being remade in the likeness of Christ.

Earlier that day I had received a large envelope in the mail. I had been anxiously checking the mail every day this week anticipating its arrival. You see, David had called me the day after I visited him in Reidsville State Prison. I was a little bit haunted by our conversation and the unfinished disclosure. I asked David if I could have the original artwork for his tattoo. He consented to mail it to me the next day if I would promise to take good care of it. He had said, “This is the most meaningful tattoo I have. You will notice the old mannequin is slumped over, but he’s not down. He’s beat up but he’s not broken.”

I was dressed to walk out the door with the kids when the mail truck pulled up with the much anticipated envelope. I opened it immediately upon entering the front door. There were several things enclosed. My fingers nervously rifled through the pages. It was the drawing I wanted to see first. I felt a pit in my stomach as I studied the details of a rather frightening piece of art. The torn and tattered appearance, the band-aid over the mouth, the hollow eyes were all taking my breath.

My hands were shaking as I began to read David’s letter. I sank to the floor as I read what I had suspected but hoped would not be true. I stopped at one word and yelled and cried and pounded the floor. But as I continued to read the letter, I discovered something that lifted me back up. Healing. David is being healed by the grace of God. How could he write this? How could he love a God who allowed this to happen? How could David be finding peace through admitting something he had tried to hide?

What I read brought more tears and laughter through choked sobs. My brother, who has covered his pain with drugs for 20 years, is experiencing the healing power of the Holy Spirit. We have prayed for this for years. Many times we came close to giving up. But something changed for me about six months ago. Every time I prayed for David, I was filled with hope. It wasn’t hard to pray for him anymore. It felt good and full of strength.

God in His mysterious way changed my prayers and he is changing David. My mom found a note she had put in her Bible during these six months asking God to set David free. This week she was looking at that note and discovered that she had gone back last month and written, “He IS free!” The handwriting is hers. But she has no recollection of writing that postscript to the original prayer. God answers us even when we are unaware. He is good!

In David’s letter he asked me to post the picture of his tattoo along with the letter he wrote to me. That is what I will be posting next. Please read it with awe in knowing that God can do anything. God wants to restore the broken. In the words of our dear friend Amy Bafford, “This is what Jesus died for!”

A Dummy

I didn’t really get a good look. But I saw enough to surmise that it was not happy. “This is my inner child,” David told us. He slid his long-sleeved thermal shirt up his arm to reveal the most solemn tattoo I think I have ever seen. It looked like a small, lost boy, a child version of the tinman. David explained that it doesn’t represent the tinman: he didn’t have a heart. It is an old fashioned mannequin. A DUMMY. I was at a lost for words, so I didn’t say anything. Then I realized…

If he hadn’t wanted us to see it, he wouldn’t have pulled his sleeve up. If he didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t have brought it up. If David didn’t want us to know that the tattoo on his upper arm held such meaning, he wouldn’t have said what he did…

“When I was a kid, I always felt so dumb. As far back as I can remember, I have felt unworthy.” and he started to cry. I have never seen David cry over his condition. I have seen him cry for making his family suffer. But I haven’t seen him cry for himself. Now if you know David, you know that he was anything but dumb. He was handsome and brimming with personality. In elementary he was #1 in the state for his age in racing BMX. He played guitar and drums really well. He could draw and surf and anything else he wanted to do. Everybody loved David; except David. We never saw signs of this until we found out he was getting high. I think he was 16 by then and drugs were tightening their grip, driving his will, further defining his self-image.

I can’t remember exactly what was said after that. But it was great; whatever it was. I do recall asking if he knew when he started feeling like a dummy and he said yes. I asked if he knew what had happened to bring on his feelings of worthlessness and he said yes. He assured us that he would tell us more one day. We continued to talk for four hours.

When I was finally alone after a four hour drive home, I cried harder than I can remember crying. I had a lot of questions for God. I was so angry. I was grieving for the little boy who I knew in my gut had been violated. Where had God been? The next morning God gave the gentlest answer to my emotional chaos. If you read Feb 1st entry for Streams in the Desert, you will understand. Five days later I would ask David how he isn’t angry at God. His answer humbled me. I will share that with you soon.

His Picture

I want to see that picture today. Where did I put it? Think! Think! I walk around where I had it last, remembering I put it out of sight last time. I recall placing some old framed photographs in the back of the basement. Ah, I see it, peeking out from behind the others. I take it out and wipe the dust off the top.

How old is he in this picture? Seven I think. All looks well. So why can’t I look at this picture without having to glance away? Because I know something happened. I just don’t know what it was and I can’t help feeling that I could have stopped it. Oh, that is why I can’t look at the picture. I fear I let down that little boy in the frame. Will I ever know what happened? Will he ever know what happened?

Yesterday I sat in an overcrowded room of a state penitentiary and talked with my little brother over a Mountain Dew and vending machine sandwiches. This is the first time I have seen him in 9 months. The first time I could hug him in maybe two years. Strangely enough I didn’t think I would cry when he walked into view. And I didn’t. But when we hugged and my cheek rested against his cheek, and I felt the warmth of his skin, it was as if we were kids again. Only he’s taller than I now. Sorrow welled up in the shape of brimming tears. I’m sad for the years that have been stolen. I’m sad for the heartache and self-loathing he has endured. But I am happy for what God is revealing to David. It may very well change his life.

His picture is on my desk tonight. I can fix my gaze on his eyes a little longer now.

I will post more on this as I am able to put it on paper