Just the other night I was working. It was a very slow night, hardly a soul between midnight and five am. We had the occasional mid-week after bar partier but that was about it. A man came in toting a huge bag, filled with all of his earthly belongings. As he sat and took off his coat I noticed the dirt that rolled off of him and fell to the floor. Not assuming much I walked over and offered him some coffee, he accepted and I poured him a mug. "Boy I can't tell you how greatful I am for a hot drink on such a cold night", he commented. Offering a lame reply I grabbed my order pad and my pen. He looked at the menu and ordered a side of fries. I asked him if he wanted gravy or mayo to dip them in. He told me that he couldn't afford any and I politely took his menu and posted his order. As I waited for the order my boss filled me in on this particular customer. She told me that he used to be a regular, coming quite often with his wife and kids to have a great big family feast, and when you eat at Rocko's you don't get anything but. One time he came in by himself and had said that the Misses had kicked him out and that he wasn't allowed to see the kids anymore. Eventually he stopped coming all together and dropped out of mind. "I guess he lost everything in that divorce", my boss said, "Even his home". After savouring his fries and having a refill of his coffee he fell asleep. I wasn't really sure what to do, I was told that I should kick people out if they are just lingering or if they are trying to use the diner as a shelter. But something within me just filled with compassion for this man so I let him sleep. He slept for hours. Waking up every so often just to look around and make sure that he wasn't in the way of anything that I needed to do. Each time he woke up he would meet my gaze with a expression of joy and gratitude that he wasn't huddled in some back alley trying to sleep in the cold and wet. Around the time that I was finishing my shift, he came to the counter to pay. He paid for his fries and coffee and left me a tip. A twoonie. I stood there looking at the money in my hand as all of the world passed by. I couldn't believe it. I had been tipped by a homeless man...that is generosity right there. In the palm of my hand I held his ticket to a warm coffee or a shower, maybe even a meal. I wanted desprately to give it back to him. To tell him to keep it, but before I could he was gone. As I drove home I couldn't help but feel a sense of anger course through my blood. That twoonie was what separated me from him, that is all it takes in this world. He would be looked down on, stepped over and cast aside simply because he didn't have any money. And I would be respected, wanted, and loved by this world because I had some. I couldn't believe it. Nothing made me different from this man except the fact that I make 8 dollars an hour and he makes whatever he can pan handling. That sucks. I hate how materialistic we are and I hate how part of me just assumes that there is something wrong with people who live in the streets. How many times have I claimed God's love and stepped over someone huddled on the street? How often have I just averted my eyes and pretended I didn't see them? That makes me sick. I hate money because on some level it controls everyone. I just really hate it...
Communism is looking pretty good right now..
**Lord Jesus watch over that man and keep him safe. Teach me to love and teach me that all I have is yours. I can't live in two camps, God, teach me to live in yours. Everything that I have kept for myself is yours. Take my finances and show me how to be a steward. Take me on this journey and lead me step by step. I am yours.**
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Sunday, November 19, 2006
this morning...
At one thirty in the morning he stepped out of the cold and into the diner. Putting the mop bucket back in to it's pail I offered a cheery hello and grabbed a mug and a coffee pot. "Can I start you off with some coffee this morning, sir?" I asked placing a spoon and a napkin in front of him. "Yes please Darlin'", he replied. "Would you like to see a menu as well?" I asked as I poured his coffee. "That would be great", he smiled at me. It was one of those smiles that seem to betray your plans to keep your pain a secret and it seemed to tug at the very core of my being. I passed him a menu and told him to take his time, he was the only one in the diner. Sipping from his hot mug he began to peruse the menu. Before long I learned that his dad had passed away not eight months ago and that his dad was a baker and had had baked the cake for his wedding. Which lead to the real reason he was here. He was single again and needed a warm place to cure the sting of loneliness this particular cold night had brought. He talked about how happy he and his wife once were and the gift of life that their love had conceived and how he wished that everything could just go back to the way that it was. He spoke of his mistakes that caused the train wreck his marriage was rapidly becoming. He and his wife sought counselling and started to attend Church. It was an uphill fight, for every step forward they seemed to take two steps back. He thought they were on their way to success. One time during a counselling session he confessed to looking at pornography and smoking marijuana. Shortly after his wife filed for divorce, she couldn't handle that she had married a man who would do this. His wife told her pastor and he was shunned from that community and kicked out of his house. While I understand his wife's horror and how she felt that all the trust that she had given lay smashed on the floor, I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Here was a man who had honestly tried to put his life back together and there he sat, kicked to the curb by loved ones and those he trusted.
As he sat with his eyes closed, body swaying to the sounds of country music lamenting over lost relationships I couldn't help but hope that my God, the God of comfort, the God of Heaven and earth was bending His ear to this broken man's silent prayer. Like a wave crashing on the shore a sense of awe came over me. Had Jesus been at that diner this is the man that he would have been sitting across from. Although he had been rejected by everyone, even those who claim to follow Jesus, this was it right in front of me, this was who Jesus had come to die for.
Clearing his dishes I began to think "Am I really all that different?". I too have struggled with sin, been rejected from my peers and been broken to the core. But How had I embraced my brokenness? Had I been comforted by the fact that that God alone can sustain me, that I can do nothing on my own? Or had I just simply swept it under the rug, like I do most things, and pretend that it isn't there. Maybe I am still clinging on the fact that if I deny it long enough it will just go away. And I started to wonder that maybe pretending that I am not broken is what is keeping God at a distance. Psalm 34:18 says "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted". So here I am, declaring that I too am broken and that Jesus' sacrifice is all that can heal me. I may never be healed, because nothing on this earth can bring me healing. Nothing but the love of a savior, who thousands of years ago bore a crown of thorns that were meant for me. But I leave this post with a sense of peace, knowing that God is a little bit closer and that I can be whole and broken all at the same time. My life is yours...Sweet Jesus.
As he sat with his eyes closed, body swaying to the sounds of country music lamenting over lost relationships I couldn't help but hope that my God, the God of comfort, the God of Heaven and earth was bending His ear to this broken man's silent prayer. Like a wave crashing on the shore a sense of awe came over me. Had Jesus been at that diner this is the man that he would have been sitting across from. Although he had been rejected by everyone, even those who claim to follow Jesus, this was it right in front of me, this was who Jesus had come to die for.
Clearing his dishes I began to think "Am I really all that different?". I too have struggled with sin, been rejected from my peers and been broken to the core. But How had I embraced my brokenness? Had I been comforted by the fact that that God alone can sustain me, that I can do nothing on my own? Or had I just simply swept it under the rug, like I do most things, and pretend that it isn't there. Maybe I am still clinging on the fact that if I deny it long enough it will just go away. And I started to wonder that maybe pretending that I am not broken is what is keeping God at a distance. Psalm 34:18 says "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted". So here I am, declaring that I too am broken and that Jesus' sacrifice is all that can heal me. I may never be healed, because nothing on this earth can bring me healing. Nothing but the love of a savior, who thousands of years ago bore a crown of thorns that were meant for me. But I leave this post with a sense of peace, knowing that God is a little bit closer and that I can be whole and broken all at the same time. My life is yours...Sweet Jesus.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Isaiah 53
Who believes what we've heard and seen? Who would have thought God's saving power would look like this?
The servant grew up before God—a scrawny seedling,
a scrubby plant in a parched field.
There was nothing attractive about him,
nothing to cause us to take a second look.
He was looked down on and passed over,
a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand.
One look at him and people turned away.
We looked down on him, thought he was scum.
But the fact is, it was our pains he carried—
our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us.
We thought he brought it on himself,
that God was punishing him for his own failures.
But it was our sins that did that to him,
that ripped and tore and crushed him—our sins!
He took the punishment, and that made us whole.
Through his bruises we get healed.
We're all like sheep who've wandered off and gotten lost.
We've all done our own thing, gone our own way.
And God has piled all our sins, everything we've done wrong,
on him, on him.
He was beaten, he was tortured,
but he didn't say a word.
Like a lamb taken to be slaughtered
and like a sheep being sheared,
he took it all in silence.
Justice miscarried, and he was led off—
and did anyone really know what was happening?
He died without a thought for his own welfare,
beaten bloody for the sins of my people.
They buried him with the wicked,
threw him in a grave with a rich man,
Even though he'd never hurt a soul
or said one word that wasn't true.
Still, it's what God had in mind all along,
to crush him with pain.
The plan was that he give himself as an offering for sin
so that he'd see life come from it—life, life, and more life.
And God's plan will deeply prosper through him.
Out of that terrible travail of soul,
he'll see that it's worth it and be glad he did it.
Through what he experienced, my righteous one, my servant,
will make many "righteous ones,"
as he himself carries the burden of their sins.
Therefore I'll reward him extravagantly—
the best of everything, the highest honors—
Because he looked death in the face and didn't flinch,
because he embraced the company of the lowest.
He took on his own shoulders the sin of the many,
he took up the cause of all the black sheep.
**Praise be to you Father, you are the author and perfector of life itself!! Please answer my cry, bend your ear to me and shape me me to see and hear you. All this I lay at your feet. Thank you for the sacrifice of your son and for all that you do for me everyday. Prepare me for what is to come. My life is yours, hear my cry and be gracious to me. Show me the way that I must live and show me to be grateful no matter the blessing!! I love you Lord, here at your feet I await your presence.**
The servant grew up before God—a scrawny seedling,
a scrubby plant in a parched field.
There was nothing attractive about him,
nothing to cause us to take a second look.
He was looked down on and passed over,
a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand.
One look at him and people turned away.
We looked down on him, thought he was scum.
But the fact is, it was our pains he carried—
our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us.
We thought he brought it on himself,
that God was punishing him for his own failures.
But it was our sins that did that to him,
that ripped and tore and crushed him—our sins!
He took the punishment, and that made us whole.
Through his bruises we get healed.
We're all like sheep who've wandered off and gotten lost.
We've all done our own thing, gone our own way.
And God has piled all our sins, everything we've done wrong,
on him, on him.
He was beaten, he was tortured,
but he didn't say a word.
Like a lamb taken to be slaughtered
and like a sheep being sheared,
he took it all in silence.
Justice miscarried, and he was led off—
and did anyone really know what was happening?
He died without a thought for his own welfare,
beaten bloody for the sins of my people.
They buried him with the wicked,
threw him in a grave with a rich man,
Even though he'd never hurt a soul
or said one word that wasn't true.
Still, it's what God had in mind all along,
to crush him with pain.
The plan was that he give himself as an offering for sin
so that he'd see life come from it—life, life, and more life.
And God's plan will deeply prosper through him.
Out of that terrible travail of soul,
he'll see that it's worth it and be glad he did it.
Through what he experienced, my righteous one, my servant,
will make many "righteous ones,"
as he himself carries the burden of their sins.
Therefore I'll reward him extravagantly—
the best of everything, the highest honors—
Because he looked death in the face and didn't flinch,
because he embraced the company of the lowest.
He took on his own shoulders the sin of the many,
he took up the cause of all the black sheep.
**Praise be to you Father, you are the author and perfector of life itself!! Please answer my cry, bend your ear to me and shape me me to see and hear you. All this I lay at your feet. Thank you for the sacrifice of your son and for all that you do for me everyday. Prepare me for what is to come. My life is yours, hear my cry and be gracious to me. Show me the way that I must live and show me to be grateful no matter the blessing!! I love you Lord, here at your feet I await your presence.**
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Another Day, A Better Place
O Lord, You know I love You
That I’d never cause You pain
That I’ll follow You forever
Through hell, through death, through shame
Yes, I’ve made my resolution
To always stand up tall
But the rooster crowed this evening
And night began to fall
And I knew that I’d been called out
So hold me now when only hopelessness is found
And love me when my brokenness is all around
Kiss me in the dead of night, the lonely ache
And tell me now that I will see another day,
A better place
O You know I didn’t mean to
That I am crying for Your pain
That I don’t deserve to follow
I deserve Your scorn, Your shame
But I look across the courtyard
And I’m struck full by Your gaze
And I know what You are saying
You know me deeply in this place
And You adore me just the same
---By Simon Hoskyn
That I’d never cause You pain
That I’ll follow You forever
Through hell, through death, through shame
Yes, I’ve made my resolution
To always stand up tall
But the rooster crowed this evening
And night began to fall
And I knew that I’d been called out
So hold me now when only hopelessness is found
And love me when my brokenness is all around
Kiss me in the dead of night, the lonely ache
And tell me now that I will see another day,
A better place
O You know I didn’t mean to
That I am crying for Your pain
That I don’t deserve to follow
I deserve Your scorn, Your shame
But I look across the courtyard
And I’m struck full by Your gaze
And I know what You are saying
You know me deeply in this place
And You adore me just the same
---By Simon Hoskyn
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