Moving On

Well guys, my time here in the UK is coming to a close. It was a shorter period of time than I had originally thought, but it was so worthwhile. I have fallen in love with this place, with these people and leaving will be so hard, but I truly am excited for what's next. I didn't want to tell you guys until I knew for sure what I would be doing, but it looks like come March 12th(ish) I will be living in Kansas City, Missouri. I gave this year to be a year where I served, and I want to continue that when I come back to America. So I asked around, where people though I should go next, and it seemed like everyone I asked said, Kansas City, so for the last couple of months, I've been looking into, and I've had the most incredible support from 24-7 leaders. Finally, Thursday, I got an e-mail confirming that I can come to KCBR for three months. Woohoo! When Anna e-mailed me, she asked me a few tough questions, what makes me burn, what drives me, what do I want to learn... it took me a while to come up with an answer, but here is what I said:

Hurting women break my heart, and the social cycle that causes women to think less of themselves, sell themselves short and then have kids who are born into a dysfunctional home and carry on the routine: that makes me want to see change. Here in Corringham, there are a lot of broken people. There are a lot of people who have been told for so long that “they’re nothing but an Essex kid,” and now they believe it. I’ve been spending the last six months loving the girls. They are hard on the outside, but o so insecure right underneath. Some of them push away love, because they don’t know what to do with it. Some of them hold tightly to you, because they so desperately want to be wanted. Some of them stare at you quietly judging from the corner, if this I safe or not. But nevertheless, I've sought over these past months, to show these girls what love is. Its not that they’re homeless or anything, it’s the fact that while most of them have houses to fall asleep in at night, most of them don’t have homes, and people to care for them every day. Their parents really do love them, but they work two jobs to stay afloat and go to the pub late to drink away the past. Most of their dads are out of the picture, and the girls don’t know what a relationship with a guy is supposed to look like.

My heart breaks, because although they’re living in this cycle, they don’t know it exists. I want so badly to influence these girls enough that they will break free. To tell them they are worthwhile, to tell them that they can do what they’re dreaming. I want this work that I’ve done with them to carry on once I’ve gone, because people saw girls changing, and were overwhelmed, so they couldn't help but continue to love them. Yesterday I sat with ten of the girls that hang about in town center until midnight every day, the ones that get drunk any chance they can get. We sat in my living room, ate pizza and cookies, danced, laughed, and chatted. Then they made me sing a song, and I decided to be brave. After I sang Hallelujah to them, I read them the poem that I had written two months before. I read them a poem of what God sees when He looks at them. And the room went silent. I told them that God sees them when they’re hurting, when no one else does, when life is rubbish. And not only does God see them, but he cares. This is what I said:

“Little girl, with the harsh I don’t give a shit exterior, I see you. I see you when the walls come down. I see you when your alone, broken and beaten. I see you fighting with your parents, I see you slam your door, I saw your daddy walk away, I was there when he OD. I see the pain little girl. I see you when the door is shut and the tears stream down. I see you in the park acting so cool when inside you’re shaking; scared someone might see through the façade. And guess what little girl, I love you. I call you beautiful. You can keep running, but I’ll be there, holding out my hands, waiting for you to run to me. O little girl, you have no hope, but I am THE hope. You think you got it all figured out, laugh it off, drink it away, push it out, and it won’t exist, right? WRONG. You know it, I know it, but its what you do, its what you’ve always done. Don’t you see, I made you. I chose you. You’re not an accident. I picked you. I want you. Come to me little girl, and I will set you free.”

Then we prayed for them. Each one. Individually. The air felt thick, like the Holy Spirit was right there with us. And then I was shocked, then, they prayed for me. They said they didn't know how to pray, but they prayed beautiful prayers. They say they don't want to believe, but man they prayed! And I was blessed...

My heart breaks for a lot of things, but in the end, this is what it comes down to: Jesus. His heart breaks for the lost, and hurting and broken, and so does mine. And I pray everyday that God will break my heart for what breaks his. Some days I do a good job, other days my heart isn’t so compassionate. But that’s the great thing about being young, I still have a lot of years to learn what true compassion is. I hope that more I’m around people who love people well, who love people like Jesus loved, the more I’m around those people, the more I will learn how to do it.

I don’t have any grandiose things I want to learn from being in Kansas City, I want to learn by doing, by serving next to other people that love Jesus. I am willing to serve wherever you need me, whether that’s doing the dishes or leading prayers and teaching younger girls, I’m up for it. Pray about it and see where you think God wants me, and know that wherever it is, I feel like this is where God wants me, so I know he will grow me from it.

Beautiful Junk

Every Friday night we prayer walk around this town: Corringham. Those moments where we spread blessing over the town are some of my favorite, some of the most inspiring and challenging. Its incredible to think up ways to spread more blessing over the town, and the other day walking down to 217 from Transit Towers, I was inspired. I passed so much junk on my walk, and I just had this desire to start picking it up. I just wanted this town to be rid of the rubbish that fills it. And then I thought how cool it would be if after picking up all the junk, we made something out of it: a symbolic statement over the town. A statement that says "not only can God pick up the rubbish, but he can make it beautiful." Because the truth is if enough people tell you that your trash, you'll believe it, and the people of Corringham, have been continually told that they're no good. The kids that come to my house everyday, they wanna drop out of school, and their teachers think they should, their parents are the ones that get drunk in the pub every night, and have no faith that life can get better. These people believe that there is no hope. We wanted them to know that they are not worthless, but valuable. And maybe right now things are looking awful, and they don't see the beauty, but when we look at them, and when God looks at them we see what they were created to be, the value that God places on their lives.

We wanted to make something beautiful out of the towns junk, so that they could see that nothing is hopeless, everything can be made beautiful again. Friday: we did it. We went out into the town and picked up the cans, and wrappers, and broken bottles, we picked up the nasty bits that people drop onto the ground because they no longer have a purpose. We picked them up, took them home, and cleaned them. And then we made art out of that litter.

It was beautiful. To see that junk made into art was so beautiful. And now we're putting it back into the town. So that when people see that junk made beautiful, they can know someone cares about them.