justaclaypot

[justaclaypot]

The Soul Knows

“B! B! Come here!” I said, as Soul Boy spins around and around and around on the carpet of our Grade 2 classroom. It’s not often that he is in the class. Soul Boy has ASD, and therefore, spends most of his time in a central location outside of the classroom with the EAs. Nearly non-verbal, this little man rarely is able to express his feelings in an understandable manner. This moment proved otherwise. 

“B! I have a note for you that I want to read with you.” 

Stumbling towards me, he came as he saw his name on the front of the envelope. 

“Here. You open it,” I said, squatting down to his level and placing it in his grimy, markered hands. 

With both hands, he ripped it open, repeating his name over and over. 

“I want you to know that you are such a special little boy,” I read, as he leaned in closer. “You are fun, creative, smart and just incredible. You bring me so much joy. B, you are so very valuable and special to me.” As I said these words, his whole posture changed, a shyness coming over his body as a sheepish smile spread across his face and his head dropped to the side. “Thank you for teaching me all about the calendar, never letting me forget the date no matter what! I am certain that you will make everyday count, as you bring joy and light to every person that you meet! You are so precious. B, you are loved-don’t ever forget that!” 

As my words landed on his heart, he leaned in further, eventually resting his head on mine. I put my arm around him and he rested his hand on my shoulder. When I finished reading the letter, I looked right at him and told him that I loved him.  He grabbed both of my hands and turned his forehead to mine, resting his on mine. I repeated my words, “I love you.” And with a beautiful, knowing grin, he returned the words back to me.  

Soul Boy, despite having exceptionalities that most do not understand, does have a soul that understands love. When he knows it, he cannot help but respond to it.  He is aware of something all of us have within in-us the need to be loved, to receive love and to give love. He, in that moment, did both. 

As he skipped away with the card in hand, my eyes filed with tears. My soul needed love, and Soul Boy knew it. 

[justaclaypot]

I’m the Man of the House

“Mama, I have to be the man of the house. That means I have to tell my sisters what to do.” Big Little Man said emphatically as he finished another round of verbally belittling and bossing his younger siblings. 

“Who told you that?” Sensitive Mama inquired, eyebrow raised as she eyed the young man’s face. 

“Well,” his voice becoming a little more uneasy under the watchful eye of his questioning mother, “Daddy stopped by the school today and said that since he wasn’t there, I needed to be the man of the house now.”

“So tell me,” she said, having to check her emotions, not wanting the anger towards her soon-to-be ex-husband to spill over onto her son, “what do you think it means to be a man?” 

“Well, it means I have to be strong. It means I have to tell the girls what to do, making sure they do what I say when I say it.” HIs shoulders got a little broader, and a little more pride filled his mouth as he spoke. 

“Son, are you a man right now?” 

“Well, no” he hung his head as he spoke. “I guess I am not. Not yet.”

“No, no you are not” she said slowly regaining full composure in her heart. “You are a boy. And you do not have to be the man of this house. You do not have to tell your sisters what to do. But what can you do as the big brother in this home?”

Furrowing his brow, Big Little Man began to think, “I can help them. Protect them. Be nice to them.” 

“Yes. Yes, that is what it means to actually be a man, son. It means you do not just think about yourself. It does not mean you use your power to control others or make them afraid of you so they will do what you want. That is not what God says a man is.”

----This story as recounted by Sensitive Mama who is a dear friend to me. She is on a journey all too familiar to too many women. Her husband, unfortunately, has very little understanding of his God-given role as husband, father and man. He has chosen the road of cheating on and abandoning his beautiful wife and amazing four sweet children.  Sensitive Mama is a disciple of Christ, following His heart and seeking to disciple her children in the truth of the Gospel and Christ’s Kingdom. Despite her own abusive upbringing, stricken with poverty, neglect, rejection and abandonment, she has chosen the way of peace, of life, of abundance in Christ. It has come at a cost. She has been rejected by many others in her community, from her culture as she is standing up against a strong current. BUT, by doing so, she is teaching her children to do the same! She is teaching them a different way, an up-side-down kingdom way. PLEASE pray for her. Pray for her as she seeks daily to forgive and show grace, to love and let go, to be patient and compassionate, to be healed and made whole. And pray for Big Little Man, that God would provide solid, godly male mentors in his life who will show him what it truly means to be a man. Pray that all four of these precious humans will grow into the incredible men and women of God they were created to be, going directly against all statistics and lies dictated over their lives! 

[justaclaypot]

Lessons from Lice (and other Critters)

Over the past month, there have been and continue to be a few nuisances that have distracted my time. Although quite small and insignificant, they have a way of making a rather substantial impact on many levels. You see, I have rats in my wall and lice in my hairs.

Rats are rodents, pests to one’s peace and one’s walls. Although they take up very little space, they have a way of taking over space far beyond their size. It’s like that friend who says they are going to visit for a weekend, but bring enough stuff for a month and bring their whole family too! (The exception with a friend is that, hopefully, they do not wreak havoc on your home and destruction to all they touch.) The scurrying and scratching have a way of getting into your head. Lice are not much different; however, they actually take up residence ON your head, not just psychologically inside your head AND although they do not scratch, they cause you scratch something fierce. (I bet you are scratching your head right now. Go ahead. I stopped to scratch too.)

Lice and rats are unwelcomed intruders that tend to have this uncanny ability to consume your every thought.

“Will the rats come inside and chew on my toe nails and snuggle with me in bed?”

“Are these rats like Ratatouille? Will they make me delicious French cuisine? Or are they more like the sewer rat characters in every childhood movie with animals?”

“Will the lice reproduce on my head? How rude!”

“Will others get this from me? Who gave it to me? Sharing is caring, after all.”

“What is that black thing?! Oh, just a fluff.” (Every seven seconds!)

“What is that black thing?! Oh, a louse!” (Too often!)

After a stare down with a rat outside my home, I began an obsessive exploration of all possible solutions to rid our lives and souls of these pesky rodents. Shoving onions and bay leaves into their not-so-hidden holes. Saturating the house with peppermint pucks and diffusing peppermint like our house is a gum factory. Letter writing to the landlord. Checking possible spots (with a broom and a comrade, because I am a chicken and cannot face another rat alone). Dreaming of ways of lovingly sending the rats off on a boat of their own to live happily in rat paradise where they bother no one. Ever. Again.

The lice journey has been only slightly different. Rather than a broom, peppermint and bay leaves, I have a pick, tea tree oil and garbage bags as my weapons of choice. Multiple comb throughs a day, giving fresh meaning to the term “nit picking”. Tea tree washes and sprays. Loads of laundry. Again. Again. Over and over. Also, dreaming of ways to lovingly (though less lovingly) sending the lice...to their demise! Forever.

With both these things (in addition to having a crazy rash which I initially thought was ringworm, but thankfully is a non-contagious nuisance of a skin disorder that is curable), my mind and time have been consumed. Their effects are so significant that everyday ordinary routines are completely thrown off, creating a very different rhythm. They steal time. They rob peace. They cause distraction.

Hmm…

As I began to pray through my pest problem asking the Lord to reveal truth and shed light on the situation, it became evident that there were many lessons to be learned. I would like to share some of these with you.

Marginal personification of critters brings great humor but no attachment. For example, you can give lice generic “pet names” but still murder them without feeling even the slightest bit of remorse.

Laughter is good medicine. When you’re in the middle of yet another long session of head-picking, it is important to remain good humored. And then it’s not so bad. Despite circumstances not changing at all, your attitude truly will dictate how it all goes in the end. I choose laughter. By laughing it doesn’t means you are pretending it is not there, because believe you me, they don’t go away when you laugh (Well, I guess if you shake your head enough, they might land on someone else and leave your head. Great way to lose friends and make enemies!). Laughing simply puts things into greater perspective; there are FAR worse things, FAR worse circumstances, and we are going to get through this!

Community is essential when you have rats and lice. Not only is it necessary to get rid of critters, lice especially, with other people, the emotional support they can provide is crucial. So often through this process, I have lamented over the hundreds, if not, thousands of people who experience rats and lice ALL ON THEIR OWN. They live with it, having no option of riding themselves of the little tyrants. We need community always. Even in the little things. And I am so very thankful I have one that is willing to pick my bugs!

Rats and lice are like sin-they take up residence and take over if you do not pay attention. Rats and lice look for opportunities to move in not unlike sin which crouches at our doorstep, ready to pounce on us if we give it an opening. There is a way to deal with the sin in our lives, and thankfully the Answer is greater and more powerful than Nix. Lice also isolates us from others; so does sin.

God’s goodness is not circumstantial. If I am kept awake at night because there are rats in my walls or if I yet again have more eggs in my head, God’s goodness is unchanging.

I do not deserve to live without rats or without lice. I do not deserve to have a comfort-filled, perfectly harmonious existence. I am not entitled to an easy life nor am I above life’s struggles or nuisances. Instead, I have been given gifts of grace that come in all sorts of packages. One of the grace gifts in these circumstances is this: If anyone ever gets lice for the first time or has a rat problem, I can easily say, “I understand. I’ve been there. I am sort of an expert at this point.” The grace of His redemption of these trivial struggles comes in the form so often of being able to help others through similar circumstances. The grace gift of life experience, of giving someone else the gift of “me too”.

Although I would not ask for rats and lice, sleepless nights or itchy scalps, I am thankful to learn and grow through these things!  And I hope you can too...without getting rats or lice.  

[justaclaypot]

I don’t want to grow up

“Supie, I don’t want to grow up,” Scared Boy says as he cowers in a ball in the corner.  Moments earlier, firecrackers shot past the doorway that was open to the kitchen, flashing light and striking fear across the face of Scared Boy. 

“Why? Why don’t you want to grow up?” I inquire.

“I..I..I just don’t want to be a teenager. I..I..don’t want to have to be bad like them,” he stammers. “I just don’t want be grown up.” 

“Wait, you think if you grow up, you have to be like them?” 

“Yeah, I guess,” he says, with a worried look on his face, biting his lip nervously.

“You don’t think there maybe is another way? What about your big bro? Isn’t he making different choices, good ones?” 

He shrugs his shoulders, letting his head fall onto his chest. “Not always,” he sighs. 

“Buddy, you don’t have to be bad. You don’t have to go that way! You can grow up to be the man you were created to be,” I say with great earnestness, searching his face to see if he is taking in the words. “To be a good man, a man that seeks after Jesus. A man that does not do foolish things like firing firecrackers at other people! You were made for so much more!”

“Supie, I really hope you are right.” 

---

“I hate this. I hate what the enemy says to these kids, to these young men. Look at this crack in the ground-society tells these boys that they have to follow this line. That they have no other option, no other way but the way of the “hood”. To be gangsters. To be tough. To be violent. To be strong. But that’s what the Good News is!! They DON’T HAVE TO BE THAT WAY! Jesus made another way for them, but so many of them just can’t see it.” My frustration spills over into prayers as I walk with my intern back into the heart of the shootings.  

My partner in crime, Strong Man, watches and stands guard with a bunch of our former youth who are in the “fiery game” with others in the neighborhood. As I join him, I look across the field, a group of youth boys and small children catch my eye. Frantically, I search the clothing of the youth, spotting the ones that I know. Bright red. Bright green. My heart sinks and my stomach lurches within me. 

No. Jesus, no. I hate this. I hate this. Why are these boys getting sucked into a world that hates them? That is not for them? That wants to destroy them? That will kill them? And my boys! Jesus, my boys! These boys whose hands I have held, whose tears I have wiped, whose arms I have hugged, whose hearts are intertwined with mine. Jesus, they are boys. Babies. 

“Let’s go to them.” My thoughts are interrupted. “Just show ‘em some Gospel love.” 

We walk forward to the pack of young men and boys. The ring leader comes out of the group, riding a bike while the others, like little blind sheep follow behind him. Though a grown man, he’s a little lost boy too. Blind leading the blind. 

I catch the eye of one of my boys. 

“Hi Supie.” Following Boy says, responding to my extended hand. Everything in me wants hold onto his sweet little hand and pull him into myself and carry him home in my arms.  I know I can’t. Reluctantly, I release his hand and rub his head, as I always do with him. 

“Hi Superfly.” Little Man pipes up from beside me. He’s the “tough bad wee boy” at the school. Although never coming to camp, he and I have a really special relationship. A surge of passion overtakes my heart, spilling over to Little Man. 

“Are you shooting fire crackers too? Buddy? They are very dangerous! I know someone who got shot in the eye!”

“I’m not...” he says, hoping to appease my desperate cries. 

“I want you to know something,” I continue as I put my arm around him as I walk with him, straggling behind the rest of the sheep, “You were made for so much more. You are a tough guy, a real man, but this is not how you have to prove it! Hurting people is not the way to be a man!” 

“I think I know that.” 

“Okay, good. And will you do something for me? Will you please watch out for my boy? Make sure he goes home! And you go home too! No more of this tonight! Okay?”

“Okay.” I rub his head as he runs to catch up with his pack. 

Jesus, my heart aches deeply. I don’t want to lose these boys to a broken world that will do nothing but rob them of the life you created them to live!  I feel helpless, Jesus. Do something. This is what I want...I want this to be the truth for my boys, for my girls, for the youth, for Shoreham, for Driftwood, for Jane and Finch!  

As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient. All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our flesh and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature deserving of wrath. But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus,  in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus.For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.-Ephesians 2:1-10

Jesus, may they no longer blindly follow the ways of this world and the ruler of the kingdom of all things stupid, things broken, things useless, things that bring death! May they no longer walk in disobedience and rebellion. May they not just seek to satisfy their flesh, their thoughts, their desires. May they see that they deserve forever separation, destruction...BUT GOD YOU HAVE A WAY BETTER WAY FOR THEM! THAT YOU LOVE THEM! THAT YOU ARE RICH IN MERCY and GRACE! That you want to make them live, make them good!  Jesus, be their hope. And be mine too. 

Let these boys grow up. Grow up to be good. To be men who seek your heart. Men who seek your face. Men who love you and love others. Men who aren’t afraid to grow up to be all that you created them to be! 

---

Please pray for me, for my team, for our community. This season of firecrackers strikes a lot of fear in the community, especially among the kids and is very dangerous. Not only because it burns people, it is a precursor for many to other forms of violence in the future. Please pray for the blind to see, for the captives to be set free.  Pray for my boys. My precious boys. Scared Boy. Following Boy. Tough Boy....All of them. 

[justaclaypot]

She’s OUR Neighbor

“Supie, I have to tell you a story.” Strong Mama says with a glint of unprecedented excitement, the kind that makes you lean in with greater anticipation. “Because of what teachers have said and evidence of changed behavior in my kids, I told my children not to play with Sassy Girl. I strictly said that they were not allowed to be around her anymore, believing that this would be the best thing for them. Supie, how wrong I was.” 

“What happened?” I question, with wide-eyes and open heart. 

“One day, a day they didn’t have camp, I looked out my window and saw my boy and girl walking Sassy Girl to her house. I immediately became cross and frustrated that they were blatantly disobeying me. I met them at the door, scolding them as they came into the house.  But before all my words could come out, Loving Boy cut me off.  He said, “Mama, I know you told us not to be friends with her, but mama, at camp we learned that Jesus says we are to love our neighbors. She had no one to walk her home, and mama, she is our neighbor! We have to love her no matter what! So, we HAD to walk her home! That’s what Jesus would do!’” 

Tears fill my eyes and deep encouragement floods my heart. 

“Jesus used my boy to speak His truth to my heart,” she continues, “so now, even though teachers tell me that my kids shouldn’t play with certain kids because of their influence, I cannot tell them not to. Instead, I am telling them to keep loving and playing with the other kids, but encouraging them to be the good influence with those kids. Jesus did not come for the healthy, but the sick! If I tell my kids not to play with “bad kids”, then how will those other kids know about Jesus? And how will my kids learn to stand up for what is right, for what is good, to be leaders themselves if they just avoid other people?” 

My heart sings songs of delight and praise. 

“Supie, my kids teach me about the love of Jesus. I am learning His love for me, so I can love others. They are teaching me what it means to love my neighbor, that every person I meet is my neighbor, and I can love like Jesus loves me.”

---

Thank you Jesus, that from the lips and praises of children and infants, You have established a stronghold against Your enemies, to silence the foe and avenger. (Psalm 8:2) Lord, You have spoken Your truth through little humans, changing the hearts and minds of mamas! You are teaching our children and our families what Your love looks like, what “loving your neighbor as yourself” really is! Thank you, Jesus, for coming, not for the healthy, but for the sick! I praise you Jesus! 

[justaclaypot]

You already are a mom

“Supie, do you think you are going to get married?” Curious Guy asks as he stretches out his legs, resting his hands behind his head. 

“Uh, well, I don’t know for sure. But I would like to believe that I will. My mom has said for a long time that I could do the whole “single for life” thing, but she thinks that wouldn’t be the best for me.” I say, with a sheepish grin on my face as I recall my mother’s voice in my head. 

“What does that mean?” he asks, swinging his chair towards me, leaning in closer with a twinkle in his eye. 

“She thinks I need someone in my life to be a mirror, to be someone who helps me become more of the person who I was made to be by lovingly pointing out my flaws yet accepting me as I am. And, I guess I agree with her.” I say, shrugging my shoulders as I turn back to the work I am doing.

“So that’s why?” He is not finished.

“I also think I just do way better with a partner. Yeah, I do fine with working with another human, like I mean, a girl, but always, I do better when I am able to work alongside a dude. You know? Being in partnership with someone else. I think the Gospel can be played out in a marriage pretty well when it is a partnership. I really want to carry out the dreams Jesus has placed in me, but I guess part of that involves another human.” 

Digging in a little deeper, Curious Guy asks, “And what are those dreams?” 

“For the past five years, Jesus has placed a very specific and sacred picture in my mind of one day, well, being a mom to many.  I’d love a whole bunch of my own, but that doesn’t really matter. I’d love to adopt, foster, just be the “mama on the block”. One day..” I look off into the future, dreaming of all the little humans running around me that I just get to love and hold and cherish and protect and disciple. 

My thoughts are interrupted.

“Supie, you already are a mom.” His words drip with sincerity, landing right on the feelers of my heart. “That’s what you do everyday. You are a mom to these kids, to the streetleaders, to us interns. That’s not just a future dream-you’re there already. Married or not.”

As his words sink within my soul, my mind begins to race with thoughts and questions. 

Jesus, that’s not actually true! I mean, yes, I get to be with these kids everyday, but I am not really like a mama, am I? I mean, this is not what you fully pictured for me, was it?  But, what if those words are true? What if what I am doing right now is sort of like being a mama to many? What if I actually believed that dream to not be a completely distant dream, rather one that was already in my hands? Although it may not be fully realized, what if I began treating this season of life with a more selfless, this-is-what-Jesus-has-placed-in-my-hand-so-imma-run-with-it-now attitude? How would my life and ministry change? 

---

“My kids” playing in the living room of my house! 

When I reflect on this conversation, I realize that often I fixate on what I do not have whether that be a kindred spirit in ministry, a specific skill that would be profitable for building relationships, a big house conducive to ministry, a partner husband, a group of friends in Toronto, the fullest picture of the dreams in my heart, and forget all that I have been given. 

As is often the case, the remedy to my failed thinking and misguided thought processes is found in the very lessons we have been teaching our kids. The story of Moses. He is the king of fixating on the “have-nots” of his life, forgetting entirely what he has been given. He spends a great deal of time reminding God of all the he is in want of, failing to recognize that God is the Great I Am! That He is entirely enough for him. That God placed these new dreams and visions in Moses’ life and that God would be the One to fully carry them out, in His way, in His timing! Not only does God remind Moses that He is the I Am, He asks Moses what is in his hand.  And He is asking me the same thing

God is asking me, “Ruthann, what HAVE I given you, right here, right now? What have I placed in you? What people, community, circumstances, talents, giftings, wisdom, knowledge, experience have I put in your life right now? What’s in your hands, RIGHT NOW?” 

As I sort through these answers, it becomes all the more clear that He has given me Himself through His Spirit-and that’s enough. He has given me a loving and godly family that prayerfully supports, challenges and spurs me on for the Kingdom, teaching me what hospitality, what being a “mama to many” looks like RIGHT NOW! I have dear friends who pray for me, who invest in me, who speak truth into me. I have a church community (both here in Toronto which is growing and back in Kitchener). I have a literal home IN the community! I have incredible supporters who encourage, support and pray for me.I have an amazing organization and family in UrbanPromise Toronto. I have a team of leaders who remind me often of why I am here.  I have a community that loves me and accepts me. And I have children. Many, many children. 

Jesus, it’s not the full picture I don’t think, but it is what is in my hand right now, in this season. Jesus, help me to see that who You are and what You have given me is enough!  And Jesus, help me be a good mama, cause I sure love these little humans! And prepare me for any children you have in store for me to love in the future. Get me ready each step of the way, helping me to simply be faithful wherever you have me, with whatever I have been given! Remind me that I am “already a mom”.

[justaclaypot]

Stuck

“It’s like you just can’t even go outside. After a while you are simply stuck inside, fearing for your life if you do leave. You are boxed in.” 

As these words passed his downturned lips, Insightful Fellow lowered his shoulders.  The reality of his words were all too true for him. He knows life to be confined, to be boxed within community lines, not being able to cross over to any other side without the fear of being attacked, knifed or killed. 

He’s from one community, and after being knifed by an opposing group of guys from another community, he continues to be in fear. There are areas he cannot even go. He doesn’t use public transit anymore. It isn’t safe for him. 

“I hate to say it, but to be honest, everyone is going to have a gun in five years.”

“Well, I know I won’t. I am afraid of guns and their power. I am scared to shoot anyone. I wouldn’t want to kill.” replied Wise Woman as she gripped the steering wheel tighter.  

“Yeah, I don’t think I will either. I get what you mean though, man. I used to think that way, but I honestly can say I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone. I am not into fighting anymore. If someone has an issue with me, then so be it. But I couldn’t shoot them,” chimed in Converted Young Man. 

Earlier in the conversation, we had discussed why people murder, why people kill one another, why they hurt each other.  

“Hate. It’s a hatred of one another.  The pastor said if you hate someone else it is like murdering them." 

“Hmm, yeah, it’s like we don’t even know each other, but we hate each other.” 

“I think there is something that comes even before hate- it is the de-humanizing of others.  It is looking at someone different than us, someone distant from us and us not being able to see them as human. For example, when we pass by someone who is homeless on the street without acknowledging their existence. Our hearts become hardened a little which leads to de-humanizing, which leads to hatred, which leads to murder,” I shared, speaking the words from a sermon I had just heard recently.

“Yeah, it starts small like that, but then becomes far worse.”

“To be honest, you know what I think is ruining our generation?” Insightful Fellow asked.

“What is that?”we all inquired.

“Social media.” 

Wow. A 16 year old young man being able to recognize that. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, in social media, we can talk smack to one another, stirring up anger and hatred without even knowing the other person in real life. Full out fights and even murder can start from a simple post. Do you want to know what I saw on facebook the other day? It was a post that said “If someone killed your brother, you’d damn well kill the one that killed him.” And there were thousands of comments afterwards that were agreeing! We can just easily murder other people without even caring about life. And it all starts on social media.  People become so hard.” 

He sighed, then continued, “One day I was on facebook with a friend and we began reading something quite disturbing. It was a post essentially threatening another community. We figured it out that it was a kid writing it. A 7th grade kid.  He had no idea what he was doing. He didn’t realize he could get himself and others killed for what he was saying.” 

16 years old. 

“And you know what else?”, he continued. “Video games are part of the problem too.”

“Really? What do you mean?” 

“So many kids, even little kids, play games like Grand Theft Auto. The problem with it is that it is so real! It’s the everyday ordinary, real life settings. For example, see that car beside us?” he said, pointing to the car driving up beside us, “In the game, you could just shoot that car up for no reason at all. You could just do it because you wanted to. So, playing those kinds of games makes it more natural to do it in real life. Just shoot people up for no reason at all.” 

“So what can you do? What keeps you going? When the world is like this? When it is hard like this? When you can’t even go outside? When it is so violent?” 

“Hope.”

“What do you mean?” 

“You can’t lose hope. If you lose hope, it’s over. There’s nothing left.” 

“Where do you place your hope?” 

“Well, I am still figuring that out.  I had a turning point, for good. But I had another turning point. Kind of went backwards. I feel like I am figuring out who I am, discovering what my hope really is in.” 

“Well,” said Wise Woman, “here is something that I pray you would think about. You were attacked. But you didn’t die. You are still here for a purpose, for a reason. I challenge you to really ask God why. Ask Him why you are still alive. Ask Him what He wants with your life. Because you are still here for a reason. We all are. You don’t have to hide. You don’t have to stay stuck. You can move forward.  You need an advocate to help you. Do you know what that is?”

“Yeah, I think it means someone that speaks for you.”

“It is someone who comes alongside you and walks with you. Who helps give you a voice. Someone who speaks out for justice with you. Who helps you to not be stuck, to be stuck inside.” 

“You know what? I want to start a business that does all sorts of stuff. Like cleaning services, lawn care, moving and delivery. A bunch of services but all under one company.”

“Woah! What inspired that idea for you?”

“Well, when I left the funeral of a girl in our community that got shot, I saw a flyer on the ground that said, ‘Start your own business’. I guess that’s where it started.” 

“I think it is possible for you! Honestly.”

“You know one thing I really hate about hood mentality?”

“What is that?”

“That any time you share your dreams with anyone, they just cut you down. They make fun of you and your dreams.” 

“Yeah, it is so true! It’s like no one can celebrate anyone else’s successes! We can’t be happy for anyone else. We just think it is unfair if anyone gets ahead of us. I really try not to do that. Even though I don’t really know what I am doing with my life right now,” Converted Young Man shared, “I still always try to encourage others in what they are doing!”

“You know why? They are jealous. They don’t understand that they too have been given talents and passions that they could pursue. That they have purpose from God. Because they don’t get that, they don’t want anyone else to do anything they think they can’t do.” Wise Woman said. 

“It’s true. That’s why I want to start a business that could include even guys from where I live. Struggling youth who need to have purpose. You know, give them some help too, so they aren’t stuck.”

Stuck. Oh Jesus, may these young men no longer be stuck in their sin, in their misunderstanding of their identity, of their value. May they be released from being stuck at home, stuck in their communities, stuck in crippling, life-destroying fear. Release our kids and youth from the lines of hatred that can’t be crossed without being attacked or killed. Bring healing. Bring unity. Bring truth. bring freedom. Bring love. Bring an understanding of value, of the humanity in one another.

***Please be praying for Insightful Fellow as he stuck in the system as well as in his community. Please pray for release, for advocacy from others. Pray for hope for him that is based in Jesus. ALSO, please pray for the Jane and Finch community. We desire to do “cross-community” ministry with Youth Unlimited who wants to help bridge the lines between gangs and communities.  It is scary and hard, but we know that it is God’s heart. He came to “bring release to the captives” (Isaiah 61:1-3)

[justaclaypot]

Lord, sustain me. You hold the world in Your hands. Hold my knees right now. 

The shooting pain through my knees, sent me reeling with each pressing pound to the ground under me. Four kilometers into the race, and my knee was already causing me much grief. Four weeks earlier, I had suffered an injury in my knee, but had been quite confident the worst of it was over. Little did I know it would persist in such a debilitating way. Just prior to the race, my dear father prayed over my knees.  I questioned if the prayers were answered.

Did you not hear our prayers? How will I finish this race, Lord? 

I will sustain you.

But how will I be able to do this with my knees in this state this early in the race? 

I will sustain you. I will hold you. I will hold your knees. Trust Me. 

The words soothed my soul for the moment, but as the pain persisted my faith waned.  I plodded along, each step becoming more and more taxing. The pain began to shift from my knee down through my shin and into my foot. And the other knee joined the painful party. I did not think I was going to be able to go on. 

Even youths grow tired and weary, even young men stumble and fall, but those who trust in Me will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not grow faint. Remember your mama? She is walking in pain. But I am sustaining her even now. 

Jesus, I want to believe that. Can I please see my mama? I just need to see her! Will you please allow that to happen? 

As I ran my next few kilometers, I allowed my mind to be distracted with scanning the other side of the course as I looped back on Lakeshore, looking for the woman that I have the privilege of calling “Mama”.  Finally, as I rounded to the 16 km mark, I saw her in full form! She was radiant, vibrant and clearly sustained. What joy filled my heart to see she was not quitting; rather, she was pressing on through the pain.  A renewed sense of purpose and perseverance flooded my body, driving me deeper into a place of determination.  

I entered the “road less traveled” at the 19km mark where the half marathon and full marathon split. Prior to that moment of seeing my mama, I seriously considered veering off with the half marathoners, heading home early.  But with the sustaining hand of Christ through the picture of my mama, I pressed in.  A million miles to go. 

Upon reaching the halfway mark, I made a phone call. 

“Hanika, I am at the 21km mark! I made it halfway!”

“We are here at the 31 km mark waiting for you! Keep going girl.”

“Pray for my knees.”

“Okay, we are praying. See you soon!”

As we hung up, I became more aware of my surroundings, knowing the familiarities of it. Not unlike last year, when we entered the loneliest portion of the race, the world became dark and bitterly cold. I was thankful I had not taken off my mitts or my headband, which I had considered doing on some of the warmer stretches. I passed the point where I had made a friend last year, which had carried me through the second half of the race. 

Jesus, I need a friend. Send me a friend. 

No one came. There was no one I was pacing with. No one that seemed to be in stride with me. I was alone. My breathing and stamina were in a great place, but my legs were slowing me. With each step, I became more and more discouraged. 

Jesus, why are you leaving me to do this alone? You know I need a distraction, a human right now. You know the pain that is consuming me. 

“Keep going. I like what I am seeing. I like that you are staying right behind him. It’s like he has gone before you and drawn a line in the sand and you are running it. That’s perfect.”

The words were from presumably a running coach who was biking beside a runner.   But the words were spoken to me. 

There is no where that you go that I haven’t already been. I go before you, leading the way for you. I have endured all pain, more than you will ever know. Keep running in the line in the sand that I have marked out for you, the line that I already made by going there Myself! 

A dear streetleader called me just then. 

“Supie? Are you almost done?”

“It depends what you mean by almost done! I have a lot of kilometers still to go. Probably another hour and half of running.” Oh Lord, have mercy. Sustain me! 

“Okay, we are still here waiting to cheer for you!”

“Thank you dear girl! I love you. Please be praying for my knees!”

“We will! See you soon!” 

I pressed in deeper. I entered the Beaches, whispering a prayer for a dear friend and kindred spirit, Thoughtful Girl, who lives in that area. As I prayed, Thoughtful Girl called me. 

“Ruthann?!? Wait, are you running? I was just going to leave a message. I wanted to let you know that I love you, I am thinking of you and I am praying for you. How are you doing?”

“Not great. I am in a lot of pain. My knees are greatly troubling me. I don’t know if I can finish the race.”

“Can I pray with you right now? Jesus, You are with Ruthann. Give her the encouragement that she needs right now. The strength she needs to continue and to finish. We love you and you love her!”

As I hung up the phone, Jesus directly answered the prayer. The long awaited sight of familiar faces renewed my soul. Cheering Friend, Coach Papa and Teacher Friend came just in my time of great need! They spoke words of encouragement, cheering me on, reassuring me and speaking life into me. Teacher Friend, who ran the 5 km race earlier that morning, joined me in my running for a few kilometers.  

I sustain you. 

As Teacher Friend, went off to the side, I felt lifted once again. However, the thought of the long stretch back clouded my present joy, bringing me right back to a place of discouragement. 

“Hi Rudy.”

A long time family friend, Perseverant Man, came alongside me.  We talked, momentarily relieving my mind from thinking about the task ahead. As we chatted, I couldn’t help but wish I would be able to run with him. Knowing however that I was not in the best of physical condition to finish strong, I tried telling him to run ahead, knowing full well that he was in a much stronger state and would be able to complete his race in a much better time than me. 

“Rudy, I have nothing to prove. I just want to be able to finish. And if it is okay with you, I would like to run with you.” 

I sustain you. I hold you. Trust in Me. 

Another glimmer of hope filled my soul. I actually believed I could finish the race. With each pressing kilometer, the pain persisted; however, having someone to share the burden by talking about everything else but the race and our bodies brought the strength I needed and the perfect distraction. Each kilometer came to us faster and faster.  By the time we hit the 40 kilometer mark, I was absolutely astonished. 

“Rudy, my knee is really starting to hurt. I am experiencing pain that I never did when I did my training runs.”

“Don’t stop! Keep going! We can do this together!” I couldn’t believe the words were coming out of my own mouth! 

I sustain you. I hold you. Trust in Me. 

We rounded the corner, and upon reaching the 41 kilometer mark were overwhelmed by a hoard of UrbanPromise cheerleaders, shouting and encouraging! Tears welled up in me, amazed at the fact that I had made it this far. And I was confident that the reason was because of the sustaining power of the One who was with me through each step. 

500 meters. 400 meters. 300 meters. 200 meters. 

“Do not give up! Let’s go!”

An unprecedented strength filled my legs, giving me new speed I hadn’t yet felt. I broke out ahead of Perseverant Man with the finish in sight. 

I sustained you to sustain others as well.

I slowed, welcoming Perseverant Man to come alongside me, and hand in hand we ran across the finish line with our hands held high. 

Sustained. Each. Step. Of. The. Way. I answered the prayer of your Papa George over your knees. I held your knees. I held you. And I still hold you. I still hold the world in my hands. I hold your kids, the youth, the families at UrbanPromise Toronto Camp Freedom. I am the One who sustains.  All things.  

(If anyone is interested in knowing more about why I was running and how you can be a part of the sustaining work of the ministry of God’s kingdom through UrbanPromise, please message me at ruthann@urbanpromise.com. And thank you for all the faithful friends and family who support and sustain me as a full-time missionary all year round!! Praying that many more are able to enter into this journey with me!! Much love.)

[justaclaypot]

I will take your punishment

“Wait, I could take your punishment for you.” Sacrificial Boy said emphatically. 

These words resulted from quite the day of Afterschool Program. Day two and already suspensions had come. As is common amongst our little humans at times, a quarrel had broken out amongst my oldest girls which led to very poor decisions by all parties. Between destructive words and unsafe actions, the girls had dug themselves into a deep hole of unnecessary pain, unchecked emotions and harmful choices.  

Emotional Girl came into camp with burdens as heavy as bricks, and rather than dealing with those feelings, she channeled them into devious “pot-stirring” behaviour. From splashing water on others, flicking the lights on and off, delaying obedience, making excuses and demonstrating the sassiest of attitudes, she was in a rough place.

Insecure Girl also came to camp with her own set of struggles. Constantly having a misplaced understanding of where her value comes from, she was driven by the acceptance of others.  Bearing the weight of the thoughts of others, she was more than willing to engage in hurtful actions if it meant she felt like others would think more highly of her.

The equation of the two equaled a spiral of hurtful words and actions against one another. 

As shots were aimed directly into the heart of the other, Emotional Girl exploded. Not knowing how to face all the feelings building up inside of her, she ran outside the confines of camp.  Her escape was beyond running from the building-she was running from her pain, from her struggles. Her inability to face the conflict, she was driven to resist, leaving it all behind. As a result, she left herself even more vulnerable, no longer being within the safety of loving relationship, caring protectors and compassionate leaders.  

Because we desire to teach our kids what is safe and right, we suspend children when they are unable to comply to the expectations we have for them. We believe that discipline is a form of lovingly walking them through their heart struggles, pointing them to their need of the grace of Christ. And as a result of her choices, I had to suspend her for a day of camp in order for her to have space to consider her choices and the grace that Jesus extends as He lovingly draws her back to Himself. To His healing touch. To His forgiving heart. To His gracious love.

So, at the threshold of her home, Emotional Girl explained to her mama the chain of events that led to her suspension.  On the sidelines of the discussion, Sacrificial Boy, the little brother of Emotional Girl,  took in each word. 

“I could take your punishment.” Sacrificial Boy’s voice piped up.

“Wait, but you can’t. I am the one that is guilty. I did what was wrong. Not you.” 

“Yeah, but I could still take it for you.” he said, shrugging his shoulders with sincere willingness.

The Gospel spoken through the mouth of a six year old. 

“My dear boy, do you know that that is exactly what Jesus did for us? We were the guilty ones, yet He took the punishment for us on the cross. He was innocent. Completely innocent. But He died for us.” 

Observant Mama quietly pondered her son’s words. And my words too. 

“I love you dear girl.” I said as the door closed behind us. 

“Bye, Supie!” Emotional Girl called out as we left. 

As I walked away, my heart was turned to a place of thanksgiving and earnest prayer. “Oh Jesus, may the truth of who You are, of what You have done land on Emotional Girl’s heart, on Insecure Girl’s heart, on Sacrificial Boy’s heart. On my heart. May I be ever reminded of Your grace, of Your mercy. May I, may we, be able to hear Your voice that says, “I took the punishment for you. Walk in that healing power, that unprecedented freedom, that peaceful joy, that gracious love.” 

[justaclaypot]

"Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of Jacob, that He may teach us His ways and that we may walk in His paths...He shall judge between nations, and shall decide disputes for many peoples; and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore (and their guns will be laid aside and their knives put to rest). O house of Driftwood, of Shoreham, come let us walk in the light of the Lord." (Modified Isaiah 2:3-5) A rainbow painted across the very scene of the most recent shooting-a sign of hope and promise. Jesus' redemptive work restores and heals all things, and He reminds us in the sky!

[justaclaypot]

“I’m not afraid-I have Jesus”

“Umm, Supie, you might want to go on walkhomes with the kids today. Something happened in the community. It’s pretty serious.” 

It was Kuya, my ministry partner and “Big Brother”. I knew what I had to do. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. It sort of comes with the territory. We are trained for unexpected situations, yet something about this felt different. I did not know quite what it was.  I went ahead with the usual protocol, rearranging the leaders in their walkhomes, making sure to take a male leader along with me. 

My partner sent two more. Big little brothers who’s hearts are golden and for the little human’s safety and protection.  I still did not know why. 

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy. 

In an attempt to prevent fear to overcome the children, we kept the distractions in full focus.  A goose nesting on the roof, a funny story about the day. Anything, but what was looming just around the corner. Chaos and brokenness, the aftermath of a shooting. Now I understood.

A shooting! Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy. 

“What?! There was a shooting?” Fearful Girl screeched, after overhearing the words from a passerby. “Oh Supie, I am scared.”

“Sweetie, just stay close to us. We are here with you, precious girl.”  

She ran ahead to where Little Brothers were walking, a blockade of safety. Without a word spoken, Brave Young Man released his elbow that had been tucked to his side and let Fearful Girl’s hand slip into his arm. She clung tightly, somehow feeling a sense of much needed safety and security. He didn’t resist her grip. 

As we approached Fearful Girl’s building, we caught sight of the scene-police cars, caution tape, all a reality of the chaos that had just ensued. 

“Supie, please go up with us.” 

“I don’t understand why you are so afraid! There is nothing to be afraid of.” Confident Girl exclaimed, finally expressing her thoughts on the matter. In a big sisterly fashion, she continued, “I am not afraid because I have Jesus. And cause I have Him, we are fine! Stop being scared!” With that she turned and opened her door. 

Lacking sensitivity, but filled with truth.

“So you aren’t afraid?” I asked.

“No! There is no need to be afraid. Jesus is all I need!” 

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have favor. 

With one last prolonged embrace, I walked down the hall alone. 

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner. 

I rejoined the group, still feeling slightly overwhelmed, but now more so with the faith of a young girl.  

“Why do they have to close off the street? This is stupid! I hate this.” Annoyed Girl breathed out. 

“What do you think we should do? What should our reaction be, dear?” 

“I don’t know. It’s all dumb.”

“Well, what about praying for those that were shot, and the shooters?”

“WHAT?! Why would we pray for them?”

Before a word came to my lips, Wise Boy spoke out, “Because they need God!” Surprising himself, he looked at me to see if he could keep going. I nodded my head, encouraging him to elaborate. “Well,” he hesitated, “they need God. They are on the wrong path and they need God to show them the right way. They need Jesus. We all do! The shooters included!”

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have favor on us your kids.

As we continued walking, I could not help but believe this truth. We needed Jesus. A lot. 

“What’s this do to you? How do you respond to something like this?” 

“Well, to be honest, I don’t want to say I am used to it, but I sort of am.” Brave Young Man replied. “It’s just, it’s happened a lot of times before. It’s not really new to me.”

“Do you know people personally that have been shot?” 

“Yeah, of course.” He went on to explain and describe the different people he knew who had been killed. “It’s sad. But you can’t really do anything about it.” 

“Really? Wait, do you have friends that are in it?”

He nodded.

“How did they get there?” I prodded.

“They had role models, but bad ones. They looked up to guys that were up to nothing good. Again, you can’t do much about it.” He said, shrugging his shoulders and drooping his head a little. 

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have favor.

“I don’t agree. Don’t you see? You are making a difference every single day in the lives of the next generation! Everyday, when you come to camp, you are investing in the lives of these little humans, especially the boys. You are showing them another way to live. You are showing them, well, you are showing them Jesus. Whenever you are teaching them the truth of not hitting back when someone hits you, or using kind words in response when someone is rude, to choose kindness instead of vengeance, you are teaching them principles of truth. When you teach them about how valuable they are, you are helping them to see their own value and in turn the value of others around them! It seems like nothing, but it is everything! You are giving them Jesus, and that’s all we need. 

“Yeah, you are right.” He said, his head lifting and his shoulders growing taller. “It is true.” 

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have favor on us your children. And have mercy. We need You, Jesus. We have nothing to fear because we have You. We can pray courageous prayers of healing and restoration, of reconciliation and hope, of peace and freedom because we have You!  

(Please be praying, dear friends. Pray for the Light of Jesus to be present in the darkness. Pray for wisdom as we continue onward in loving Jesus and making Him known. Pray that we could be able to reach children with the love of Christ, raising them up into leaders who then be a part of restoring their community! If you want to be a part of this kingdom work, please go to  https://cause2give.unxvision.com/EDMWeb/DonationForm.aspx?FormID=354)

[justaclaypot]

Hardest Day of Life

"That was probably the hardest day of my life."

"What happened?"

Rejected Boy sat forlorn, eyes lost as his mind took him into the painful recesses of his not so distant past.

Shifting in his chair, he stared off slowly opening his darkest memories, "Well," he began slowly, "my dad was there, at the apartment one day. I was so happy. He said he was staying. For good. But, but when I got up the next day, he was gone.Completely gone." 

My heart wept the tears that hid away inside of him.

"Did you cry?", I whispered softly, biting my lip as it quivered uncontrollably. 

"Yes!" he said, drawing out the word for greater emphasis. "I cried and cried and cried." Rejected Boy leaned back in his chair, swallowing hard to keep any tears from encroaching upon his tightly held face. 

"Do you miss him everyday?" I bit my tongue. What a foolish question...

My thoughts were interrupted with the obvious."Of course I do! I miss him always. Superfly, you know what I hate? I hate the in and out, in and out. He says he'll come back. I want him to come back. I do." 

"My dear boy, I have a question for you." 

Rejected Boy looked up, dropping his fidgeting hands and searching my face with curiosity. "Yeah?"

"What kind of a daddy are you going to be? Are you going to be in and out, in and out?" 

"NO! I am going to stay with my wife and with my kids! I know my dad needed to work, but I think I would choose a work where I could stay with my family!" 

Lord Jesus, may this be the story of his life. Truly. May it be so.

"My boy, do you know that a major number of men walk out on their families, never being there for their kids?"

"Really? Why?" 

My question exactly. Why? Why so many men, so many boys walking out on their families, unwilling, unable to raise their children with love, protection and care? Why do these children live their lives fatherless, with men walking out on them leaving them scarred, broken and rejected? 

"I have to tell you something. Something I want you to never forget." 

"What's that?"

As I looked into his deep brown eyes, I slowly said, "Dear boy, I am sorry. I am sorry your father walked out. I am sorry that you don't have a daddy who is constant in your life. I am sorry that you feel like you have to be the man of the house. But I need to tell you this-you have a Heavenly Father who will NEVER walk out on you. He will never leave you. He will always love you."

"I know that. God's my Father. Just sometimes..sometimes.. I wish I had mine too." Rejected Boy let his head drop to his chest, letting out all the air left in his now seemingly boy body.   

As my thoughts spun round and round, intermingled with emotion brought on by the look of Rejected Boy's slumped body and burrowed face, a scene from a film I recently watched planted itself in the center of my thoughts momentarily taking over my consciousness.

The beautiful story brings light to the life of a young black man finding his true calling in life-serving and loving at-risk kids through afterschool programs in the very community he resided in. One rather hardened young boy is fascinated and drawn yet consistently resistant to trusting Gentle Man's love and affections. By an unfortunate downward turn of health, Gentle Man finds himself near death with major kidney failure.  In the moments of pending death for his beloved friend, Fascinated Boy relinquishes his fears and distrust by confessing his wrongs and in a heart-wrenching moment, makies a heart-breaking request. 

"I need a favor. If you can do it."

"I'll do my best."

"Would you be my dad?"

And in a fitful of tears, the dying Gentle Man says, "I wish I could." Then takes Fascinated Boy into his arms as the two of them weep together-adopted father and adopted son. You see, Gentle Man also was fatherless-his daddy had walked out on him leaving him to question, wonder why his daddy didn't love him as well.  

Fatherlessness is not just a statistic. It is a reality that takes shape in the tears, the cries, the questions of little boys and girls who turn to little men and women still desiring, longing for real fathers.  It is in us. We were inherently made to desire to have a loving father in our lives.  We want to be raised by a father who teaches us, who cares for us, who speaks into us, who raises us.  We want a father who loves our mama and treats her with respect and faithfulness. We want a father. A "Daddy". 

Abba Father, be Rejected Boy's daddy. Fill that void in his heart, his mind. Heal the daddy wound that is gaping open, wrought with painful memories that cling to his soul. AND.BREAK.THE.CHAIN. Make him a daddy like you. A faithful, loving, gracious, patient, humble, caring, trustworthy man. A man after your own heart. A man who does NOT go in and out, in and out. But says 'I am staying-always. I am NEVER leaving!' May his children never have to recount "the hardest day of their lives".  In the name of Jesus, Amen.

(Feel free to watch this extremely riveting poem called "Knock, Knock". Although the hope of Christ is not fully presented, it beautifully depicts the stark contrasting reality a fatherless child can have when they choose a different path, when they can realize that they are their father's son, but not their choices! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9eYH0AFx6yI)

[justaclaypot]

He's not here for Thanksgiving

"It's mine. Stop it. The leader said I would take it to the classroom!" Abandoned Girl exclaimed, forcefully ripping the tray from the hand of another.  A sour expression enraptured her whole face as her eyes narrowed and her lips recoiled into themselves.

This was yet another incident in a long line of similar outbursts. Already, she had kicked a girl, ripped a marker from the hand of another, argued with a leader and sulked in the corner. Although characteristic of some, this behavior was quite the discrepancy for this girl. Normally, she is tranquil, peace loving and gentle. She is generally quite compliant, eager to make the right choices. This series of explosions sent me a clear message: something beyond the surface within the heart of the girl was the cause of such eruptions. 

"Sweetie, stop there for a moment. I need to talk to you,." I gently said.  She turned, glaring her eyes as Uncertain Girl passed her by.  "I am not exactly sure what is going on, but this is not how we treat other people. I have witnessed a few similar choices today that are hurtful and mean. I haven't seen you like this before. Ever. If there is something going on, at home, at school, please feel free to tell me. I want to help you through this, but hurting other people is not the way to deal with it." 

In that moment, Abandoned Girl's body fully relented. The emotion spilled over as she drew near to me.

"What is it, honey?" I prodded as I stooped down to her level, holding her sobbing shoulders as I did so. 

"It's..it's my father. He lives in Grenada and won't be at Thanksgiving dinner with us again." The words struggled to find their place on her lips. Tears streamed down her precious face as if they were the tap of her feelings of abandonment.  Year after year, holiday after holiday, Abandoned Girl longed for her father, yet he was never present. Birthdays and Christmases, awards and graduations, soccer games and presentations-his absence was felt. This little girl was broken.

"Dear girl, can I tell you something?"

Her eyes locked on mine.

"You have a Heavenly Father who will never leave you. He is always with you. He sees your hurting heart, He sees and knows your tears, You can talk to Him any time you would like. Know that even though you really want a physical presence, your Heavenly Father will keep you close. And He loves you."

As these words were spoken over her, Abandoned Girl's body relaxed as if to soak in each word with its meaning. Although the tray was still in her grasp, she leaned into me, saying nothing, yet saying everything-she understood, if only a little.  She somehow was internalizing for the first time that there was a Father who would never leave her or forsake her. That although her earthly father failed for many different reasons, there was One that would consistently and constantly be present in her life. The truth that God was her Father and that He loved her resonated in her soul, in her mind, in her heart.  

As she walked out, I prayed over her life. I prayed she would feel the nearness of her Father. And that her Heavenly Father would have a place at her Thanksgiving table, giving her the feeling of being fully accepted and no longer abandoned.  

***Please pray for many of our kids who have similar stories to Abandoned Girl. For many, holidays are a reminder of the absence of others, namely fathers and brothers. Some, it is because of prison while others is because of abandonment. Fatherlessness is rampant in our communities. Please pray that the Ultimate Father would be felt this Thanksgiving season.  

" 

[justaclaypot]

He IS worth it!

Tattered and torn, Broken Boy brushed past me settling into the seat directly behind me. With his passing by, a pungent mix of alcohol and filth filled the air, lingering in the confines of the subway car.  A sigh of great heaviness exhaled from his exhausted figure followed by a nestling into his temporary sleeping quarters.  Within moments, the weight of his head found its resting place on my back. Slightly alarmed at first, I pulled away. But when I looked and saw his fatigue, I returned to my spot feeling his head gently find its place again.

When was the last time someone held him close? When was he last protected and cared for? Had he been lovingly cradled in the arms of his mama? And did he know his value, his worth? That he was worth being cared for?

"There's a spot over there. Go get a seat."

My thoughts were interrupted.

A loud, rather self-centered couple pushed their way through the extremely packed train. Hardened Woman tried to sit but then realized she was unable. "Okay, wait, they're passed out."

"Just move them."

"Hey, wake up. Come on." Hardened Woman said gruffly, as she roughly moved his leg off the seat.

"Move your foot so my woman can sit properly." Arrogant Man chimed in. 

"Hold on, sorry, you just woke me up." Broken Boy said sleepily. 

"She smells like alcohol and is a mess."

"Well, why do you think? I was just drinking," he said, still in a daze. "And that was your first mistake c**t. I'm not a girl. I'm a guy." 

"What did you call me?" Her wide hand slapped across his scarred, sad face.  "You sure look like a b****h"

Seemingly unfazed, he said, "I guess I should thank you for waking me up. It's just before my stop." 

"You shouldn't be taking up three spots. We all paid for this too." 

More words were exchanged that began to blur together in my mind because before I knew what was happening, Hardened Woman was beating him again.

I stood there, shaking to the core of my being.

Stop it! STOP IT! The words screamed inside of me, but could not find their way out of my fear stricken mouth. I frantically looked each person in the face, hoping and wishing someone would do something. But no one did. In fear, we all just watched.

"If you say one more thing, I am going to use my fists. I will punch you." 

"Go ahead. Do it," Broken Boy said, with nothing but sadness in his voice. 

With a venomous sneer, Hardened Woman spit out "You're not worth it."

Shakily getting up to find his exit, Broken Boy muttered, "It's about time you figured that out." 

I too found my way out of the subway, trembling with emotion. Bumping and wandering about, I let my heart drop to the floor as his words echoed through the caverns of my head. 

"It's about time you figured that out. It's about time you figured out that I am worthless." He doesn't know he is worth something. He doesn't know there is a God who made him and loves him. That He formed him and shaped him in his mother's womb. That He has a plan and a purpose for his life. AND I...I just stood there doing nothing, re-affirming his belief. I DID NOTHING.

I did nothing. I let another human de-humanize a soul, destroying further a broken life with evil words and hate-filled violence. I watched, I stood by, I froze. I let fear win. I let fear prevail. And in doing so, I allowed another human to suffer right in front of my eyes. 

Jesus, I am sorry. I am so sorry. Forgive me for my self-protectionism and fear. Forgive me for not standing in the gap. You are a God of grace and compassion. Your heart breaks for Broken Boy. You see his pain, his suffering, but even more, You see his worth! May he know his worth. That he is precious to You. That he IS worth it to You! And Jesus, help me to never just stand and do nothing. You did something when You saw us broken and afflicted. You were moved with compassion which moved you to action. May I be the same. Heal Broken Boy. And Jesus, heal me too.  And, if You will do it, may I please see him again so I can tell him how much he is worth? I think that's what you would do. 

[justaclaypot]

Some Days and Other Days

Some days my cheeks hurt from smiling and my side aches from laughing. Other days my eyes burn from angry tears and my stomach hurts from painful experiences. 

Some days I want to relive moments again and again to make sure I remember them forever. Other days I just want to forget.

Some days I feel confident and sure. Other days I feel helpless and foolish.

Some days I have connections-close, deep and intimate. Other days I have stone walls-cold, distant and closed.

Some days I see growth and progress. Other days I see stunting and regression.

Some days I feel on top of things-organized and in control. Other days I wonder if it will ever all get done.

Some days I think I was made for this. Other days I wonder about my calling. 

Some days I step out in complete trust. Other days I waver and doubt.

Some days I break through to the heart. Other days I fail to find any solutions. 

Some days I look into the eyes of a child and I see hope, joy and peace. Other days I see despair, sadness and fear. 

Some days I experience tranquility and calmness. Other days all there is is chaos and mayhem. 

Some days I have lots of words. Other days I have nothing. At all.

Some days I am quick to let go. Other days all I want to do is hold on. 

Some days I forget about color, culture and the gap of differences. Other days that's all I see and feel. 

Some days I feel I have a place. Other days I feel like an alien. 

Some days I can lead my team. Other days I am at a complete loss.  

Some days I am filled with grace and patience. Other days I speak from my flesh and my selfishness. 

Some days I am full of compassion. Other days I am completely numb. 

Some days I bask in my freedom. Some days I live chained.

Some days I know who I am. Other days I completely forget. 

Some days. Other days. Some days. Other days.  

ALL days are His. ALL days belong to the One who made them, who is in them, who has a purpose for them. ALL days have hope. ALL days can be fully entrusted to the One who takes my beautiful some days and my ugly other days and makes them into immeasurably more than I could ever ask or imagine. ALL days are redeemable, ALL days are being made new. ALL days are full of value, full of worth.  ALL days teach me, grow me and mold me. ALL days show me that I am inadequate, but that the One who holds ALL days is sufficient. ALL days show me that I can trust, that I can lean.  

Jesus, Lord of ALL days, take my some days and my other days. And have your way. 

[justaclaypot]

"I am stupid and ugly."

"I just want to get suspended from camp," Desperate Girl pleaded.  Her eyes avoided mine as she wiggled and squirmed under my gaze.  "I just don't want this to be my camp anymore. I want to be at home." 

"But, sweetie, think of all the things you would miss if you weren't here. Daily help with your homework."

"I could do that at home. It's easy."

"What about being able to have yummy healthy snacks and the opportunity to share it together with others?"

"I have food at home too you know!" she said with a little venom in her voice.

"Well, what about the opportunity to grow and learn about Jesus with others, having leaders that care and love you?"

"My leaders don't like me," she said, staring harder at the fluff in the carpet. 

"Oh dear girl, your leaders do love you. They would not be here if they did not. They would not discipline you and spend time with you, helping you grow and learn unless they loved you."

"But my leader won't let me finish my homework and I need to finish my homework here."  

 Here is it. The moment where the cries of the heart are surfacing, no longer simply being the superficial anger and frustration.

"Why is that?" I prodded.

"Cause I get suspended from school if I don't do my homework and I can't do it at home because my brothers won't help me."

"Really? Why won't they help you?"

With a downcast face she said, "They say I'm stupid and dumb. They say I can't do it anyway so why even bother. So I can't do it." Her protruded bottom lip quivered with each word she spoke. 

My heart sank. Jesus, see the broken cries of Your precious little creation.

"Can I tell you a story?" 

She shrugged. 

I ran into the room, praying with each step.  Grabbing a book that I had seen on the shelf earlier, I quickly found my place beside Desperate Girl who had leaned fully against the wall looking dejected and lost.  

"I am going to tell you a story about some Wemmicks."

"What are those?"

"Those are wooden people, made by a man named Eli." 

"Hmm, like the boy whose nose grew every time he told a lie?

"Yeah, like him!" 

"Well these Wemmicks were silly little people. All day long they would give each other stars if they thought you were tall enough, strong enough, fast enough, smart enough, pretty enough. But if they thought you were too short, too slow, too weak, to dumb or too ugly, they would give you a black dot.  There was one boy named Punchinello," I said, pointing to a picture, "that only had black dots on him."

"Only black dots?"

"Yeah, how would you feel if you only had black dots?"

"Really sad and mad!" 

"Yeah, I would too.  And those black dots are like the mean things people say to us. Like the mean things your brothers say to you."

"I could make some black dots and give them to my brothers to put on me."

Her words cut my heart, yet again.

"Oh precious, no. Let me tell you the rest of the story. There was one Wemmick in the town that was very different from the rest. She did not have any stars or any black dots. People would try to give her stars, but they wouldn't stick and when they would give her black dots, what do you think happened?"

"They fell off?"

"Yeah! Punchinello asked her one day why nothing stuck to her. She told him that everyday, she goes up to the house on the hill where Eli lives.  She told him he should go there too. So he went. And when he walked in he heard the man's voice call his name. Eli picked Punchinello up and put him on his workbench.  And you know what he said to him?"

"No," she said, very engaged in the story at this point. 

"He said, 'Punchinello, that is a lot of black dots. But I want to tell you something. I am the one that made you and I think you are very special and I love you. I want you to come visit me everyday so I can tell you how special you really are.' And as Punchinello walked out the door and thought again about what Eli said, guess what happened to one of his black dots?"

                         "It fell of?" her eyes widened with a long lost delight. 

"Yes. And you know what happened, he went there everyday and eventually they all fell off."

"And none stuck to him anymore did they?"

"Nope. And you know what?" 

"What?"

Jesus, help her to be able to make the connection, I prayed. This is our literalist girl and therefore struggles to fill the gap between that which is simply a picture and that which is reality. 

"Well, you are just like Punchinello."

"I know. Eli made Punchinello and God made me."

My heart squealed with delight. 

"Yes, and do you know that the words Eli spoke to Punchinello are the words God speaks over you? What did Eli say to Punchinello?"

"You are special and I love you."

"Hmmhmm..so what does God say about you?"

She hesitated for a very long time. "Umm, that I am special and that He loves me?"

"Yes. He made you so very special! He made you beautiful and smart and lovely."

"No one has ever told me I am beautiful. I am ugly and dumb." 

"Sweetie, those words are not true.  My prayer for you is that you would be able to spend time with God, letting Him tell you what He thinks of you. So, the next time your brothers or anyone else says you are dumb or ugly or not good enough, those words will not stick to your heart-that only the words that God speaks into you will stick."

Desperate Girl looked right into my eyes now, with a much softer look, a child-like look. "I think that will be hard." 

"It will be, but I want you to know that as you are at camp, we as leaders want to tell you all the time what God thinks about you. And what we think about you! Your leaders think you are amazing, smart and precious and VERY special!  Will you go back to your group now so you can hear that more? Are you ready?"

"I think so."  

She gave me a quick little hug and then we talked together down the stairs.  And as we walked hand in hand, somewhere within me, I felt one little black dot fall off her precious little heart. One black dot less and one step closer to knowing the One who made her.  

***Please pray for Desperate Girl. As you have read, she is a very broken little girl and she is only six years old. Pray that nothing will stop her from coming and that she would have the Word of Truth spoken over her life all the time. Pray for her leaders that they may love her, affirm her and bring her to Jesus each day, in each interaction. Thanks friends!

[justaclaypot]

what i learned from 'amurrica'

"Ruthy, I have to tell you something." 

Having just spent the last thirty minutes indulging in an a very America-style pizza buffet, it was hard for me to guess what kind of topic would be breached. However, knowing the heart of the source, I figured it would be something rather profound and heart-delighting. I was not disappointed. 

"As I interact with you and watch you with others, I really truly believe the words of Luke 4 that echo the passage in Isaiah 61.  "The Spirit of the Lord is upon you, Ruthann, because He has anointed you to proclaim news to the poor. He has sent you to proclaim freedom to the captives and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."  It's true of you, Ruthann. I believe it.  

Really Jesus?  Did you tell him? You must have!

"You have no idea what that means to me. Those words were the very words that God used to confirm that I was supposed to work for UrbanPromise at Camp Freedom. When I was wrestling with that decision God made it very clear that the Spirit is on me to proclaim that freedom AT Camp Freedom!"  

"Well, I knew I needed to share those words with you because those are the words that confirmed my call into ministry as well."  

This conversation landed on December 31st while our group of 28 from Oklahoma's McFarlin United Methodist Church were stopped in Little Rock, Arkansas on route to the Passion Conference in Atlanta, Georgia.  How did I end up with a group of Okies in Little Rock?  Good question. And you'll find that the answer circles back to the beauty of God's confirming and affirming faithfulness when He calls us to join Him in His work, when He anoints us to bring freedom.  

This past summer, I had the privilege of meeting a group of amazing humans who came as a work group from Oklahoma to UrbanPromise. Through that beautifully divine interaction, God birthed a partnership of support between myself and the youth group at McFarlin.  At that time, they had encouraged me to join their Passion Conference adventure as well.  And they made it happen. I flew down and met them in Stormin' Norman, Oklahoma and then drove with them across the southern states to Atlanta Georgia for the 2013 Passion Conference.  

Although I did not know very many of them that well, each human I met was beautifully warm, friendly and God-filled (and curious about Canada and all the things we as a nation think about "ammrricans").  They were so loving that they even forgave me for wearing the same clothes over and over because I lost my luggage (check out 'justaclaypot' on facebook to hear that story!) With each conversation, I was all the more drawn to the One who had called me to be His own, to be His servant and to serve with UrbanPromise.  

During the course of the conference, Jesus breathed life into me, His Spirit actively revealing Himself to me, reminding me of my anointing. Through the lyrics of the songs, through the speakers, through conversations and through revelations, He reminded me that He is the One who goes behind me and before me and is always by my side. He reminded me that He can do immeasurably more than we could EVER ask or imagine.  

And on the last day, God finished the conference directly speaking to me.  

"He has anointed you. Breathed His Spirit on you, His NOOMA on you. Look what it says..." 

And then, do you know what Louie Giglio said? Yes, you thought right: HE QUOTED LUKE 4!!!  "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me..."

As these words flooded my soul once again, tears filled my eyes. I looked over at Faith-filled man who had quoted that passage to me earlier and was once again overwhelmed by God's presence, by His faithfulness and His affirmation. God once again affirmed that I have the Spirit on me and have been anointed to proclaim freedom to the captives in this world, in Jane and Finch, in Camp Freedom!!  

Am I terrified about starting as a Children's Supervisor tomorrow at Camp Freedom? Yes. Do I know what I am doing? No. Do I have a clue of what is really going to happen? No. But there is ONE thing I am certain of, one thing and one thing only: 

"The Spirit of the Lord is upon you, Ruthann, because He has anointed you to proclaim news to the poor. He has sent you to proclaim freedom to the captives and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

That's what I learned from 'amurrica'.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GGyd2geB6NY