Prayer for Mrs. N

On my way back from exercising this morning, I prayed that God would let me follow him all the way to Calvary. I had forgotten what an ugly place that was.

Mrs. N came to me today to ask for prayer. Through her sobbing, I pieced together that she had been abused as a child by her father, turned to prostitution as an adult in order to help pay the bills until her kids could move out on their own, and just recently had been hit in the face by her husband of many years. With her health declining and inability to pay for any medical bills, she recently turned again to "walking the streets," but as a woman now well into her late fifties, no man finds her desirable. Seeing the wrinkled face of this child of God tell me that she had tried to sell her body, but wasn't able to find a buyer was perhaps the saddest thing I have ever witnessed in my life. I can only cry out to God.

Gracious Father, I still believe in you although it is difficult to do so on a day like this. How such horrendous evils can be permitted to exist in this world is beyond me. But I turn to you in prayer because I have nowhere else to turn. Take Mrs. N in your hands and wrap your arms around her. Protect her from her husband. Give her self-worth and dignity so that she'll never again try to sell her body for money. Provide for her health needs. Clothe her just as you clothe the lilies of the field. Feed her as you feed the birds of the air. Grant that she may one day live in your kingdom for all eternity and enjoy the fellowship of the Triune God. Make her beautiful again. Amen."

Why I Like Headaches

I look forward to headaches. I know it sounds crazy, but here's why. Whenever I get a headache, then I get to take my headache medicine. The medicine I've been prescribed is not a narcotic and it is completely non-addictive, but it does make me feel better not only physically, but emotionally as well. In other words, when I get a headache, then I have an excuse to be put into a good mood for the rest of the day.

This poses to me a very difficult theological problem which I have written about in the past. When I take my Tramadol, I not only sense a physical relaxation, but I also find it easier to pray. I feel as though a cloud has lifted from my mind and I am able to see the beauty in the mundane, trivial things which fill my everyday world. I am friendlier to friends and family. I laugh more. I stress less. The clouds of my depression disperse momentarily.

I recall hearing that the man who invented LSD actually did so because he was interested most of all in human spirituality. He believed that the use of his drug, if properly taken, could draw a person closer to God, and to his dying day he regretted how the drug had been abused for selfish purposes. I'm beginning to wonder if Tramadol isn't accomplishing a very, very mild version of what this inventor intended.

What am I to make of the fact that I feel closer to God when on my headache meds? What am I to make of the fact that I am happier, friendlier, more patient, and less depressed? Shouldn't this be something that I can accomplish through prayer and the infilling of the Holy Spirit? I'm fascinated by spirituality -- in fact, you might say it is my all consuming passion. And so I find it quite disturbing that a little white pill is able to (shall I say "unnaturally"?) induce a mildly pleasant spiritual experience that my devotional life cannot.

I want to be happy. I want happiness more than anything and I believe that God made me this way. I want to know why prayer and fasting and serving the poor and taking communion and reading the Scriptures devotionally is unable to do for me what this little pill does with such consistency.

Jesus Has Lice

After listening for weeks to her excuses, I finally agreed that our pre-school would take her two girls for a day so that she could go out and find a job. Well, today was the day. And not only did she bring in her two girls, but also two others girls belonging to a friend of hers.

The beautiful 3 year old and her younger sister were covered in dirt and grime. Their clothes were worn and tattered. But underneath the filth, an unforgettable smile beamed up at me. (This was the same girl we found eating raw meat a few weeks ago at food pantry because she was so hungry and her mother was no neglectful).

We discovered that these girls were absolutely crawling with lice. The teachers did their best to scrub and clean them, but the lice still remain. The best we can do is play with them, but keep them separated from the other children.

Jesus didn't quarantine the lepers, but I must admit that I took my little girl out of the pre-school today and brought her home. Does that mean my love is more limited than His?

This little church is trying its best today to serve the Jesus with lice that has been brought into our company. But it's hard. Sometimes we sure would prefer to serve clean people, but that's not God's call. He wants us to play with the lice-filled ones.

Request for Advice

Friends who read this blog, I want to ask you for some advice. Recently I posted my earlier blog entry entitled "Where the Hell is the Church?" to Facebook for a wider audience to read. You might recall that post as a rather angry expression of my dissatisfaction with the church which has, in my opinion, largely neglected its mission to the poor. An old friend of mine responded to this post with a message to me and I would like to share with you our correspondence below:

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My friend wrote:

There aren't many other people I would bring this up to, Greg, but I know you will take it for what it is worth:

You aren't going to enlist people in our cause by coming off as angry and bitter. What few people you get that way will not be there for the right reasons. If you love what you are doing, say so. If it's real, then people will see that and a certain number will want to come along. It may not be a huge number, but it will be an effective force, and God may even make your efforts go further than you thought possible, just like He did when the disciples fed the five thousand.

I responded:

Thanks for these words, friend. I've just spent the last half hour thinking about them and praying over them. Perhaps you are right. I was quite reluctant to post this most recent note which I originally wrote only for my few blog readers. I don't want to come off as just another "angry liberal." I know how much of a turnoff that can be. On the other hand, I must admit that I am indeed angry. I am angry that the church is not, in my humble opinion, accomplishing its mission. And I'm not quite sure what to do with that anger. If it is righteous anger then, just as Jeremiah spoke out to his people, I am also obligated to speak out. (In fact, you might accuse Jeremiah as "coming off angry and bitter" given many of the things he says). This is the constant tension that I wrestle with as one who feels called to be a prophet: I want to speak what I believe the church needs to hear even if it is unpleasant. At the same time, I don't want to be a bitter and angry person. Maybe you can help me here.

Let's take an example of something we both agree on. Both of us are adamantly opposed to abortion. Now if one night I get inspired to write down my honest anger and outrage over the murderous killing of our children and write about it, this might come off as angry and bitter to some (especially those who disagree with me). But, assuming that my cause is just, would I be wrong in expressing such indignation? I just don't know the answer to that question. Sometimes I think "yes" and sometimes "no." Your response has hit me hard probably because for years I have wrestled with the very issue that you raise. Another factor to consider is that a number of people have written me and told me what a blessing my post was to them. So I'm not sure what to do with that. Let's keep this dialog going because I deeply respect your opinions. Thanks for courageously advising me of your thoughts.

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So now, my dear blog readers, I turn this question to you. Is it right to cry out in anger about what I consider to be social injustices or would it be better to maintain a silent witness through actions alone? Would remaining silent be more virtuous or would it actually be an act of neglect? I look forward to your responses.

A Word of Truth from Our Military

Adm. Michael Mullen, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, recently testified in front of congress. He made one of the most brilliant statements to ever come from a military leader and I just had to share it:

We cannot kill our way to victory.

I would just like to point out that I follow a man who said this centuries ago. In fact, he redefined victory entirely. Refusing to participate in the perpetual struggles for power in which nation-states have been participating since the dawn of time, he revealed a new power: a power which suffered and bled and forgave out of love.

I commend you Admiral Mullen. I think Jesus would tell you that you are not far from the kingdom of God.

Eating with the Other

Tonight I sat at a table with a woman who has been working at Burger King for the last 22 years. To this point in my life, I always considered Burger King workers to be high school kids who wanted some extra spending money for their weekends away with friends. But tonight I sat and ate with a middle aged black woman who has made her career out of flipping burgers. She is not bitter about her lot in life. In fact, she's just glad that she's never been assigned to work the cash register since that is, in her opinion, a much more unpleasant job.

She sat and told me her story which, I must admit, I did not fully understand since we speak very different forms of English. Once addicted to hard drugs and alcohol, she had a mystical encounter with "something" which frightened her to the extent that she sought God in a church and found "salvation." She claims that at that moment her life was completely changed and she never went back to taking drugs again. She still smokes and has not been able to give that up, but credits God for delivering her from her alcoholism and drug addiciton.

As I sat and looked at this Burger King worker, I saw more than a Burger King worker. I saw a woman who looked different than me, spoke different than me, and thought different than me. And yet we had one thing in common: both of us would be dead without Jesus. She would have died long ago of a drug overdose or a gunshot wound inflicted during a narcotics exchange turned bad. I would have given in to despair and ended my life.

I am thankful tonight that God is at work in the lives of people who seem completely invisible to our society. I am thankful that God thinks that this Burger King worker is worth enough to save. I am thankful that in His economy, she is riotously celebrated.

Thank you, God, for saving the Other.