Isaac Newton, See-Saws, and the Homeless

My childhood years were spent on various playground equipment: swings, slides, merry-go-rounds, and see-saws.


I loved the see-saw.


My sister and I would spend hours going up and down on those things.


I tried to recreate the fun with my own children.  I quickly discovered the faulty reasoning I had regarding simple machines and levers. The enthusiasm of the parties on each side was NOT the balancing factor.


Now that they are grown and living on their own, my trips to the playground are few and far between.


Lately, though, it seems as if my ministry is a virtual see-saw.


Up and down. Up and down.


Guys will get so close to getting help and then delve back into their addictions with a vengeance. Girls will finally get out of dangerous situations only to return a few days later.


But then someone will suddenly call and be ready to leave it all behind. These may not have even been on the radar as far as getting help, yet there they are.


A see-saw.


I get so excited when we place someone in their own home or into a rehab facility. I jump for joy when they reconcile with long-lost family members. I love it when they just ask for prayer.


Up. Up. Up.


But what goes up....


Must come down. (Sir Isaac Newton)


This week I feel like I've spent more time going down than up. Frances, who was sober and on track to get her daughter back after three years, was so high that I don't think she knew I was in the same world, much less the same room, with her when I stopped by to visit last week. She had gotten so close.


Kase, who was one of the highest-functioning alcoholics I'd ever known, overcame alcoholism and was doing well in a sober-living house until this morning. He sent me a text; he's back on the streets.
Gave his testimony in prayer meeting last night and snuck out this morning.


It broke my heart.


Sometimes I feel like the person on the see-saw who has to do all the leg work just to keep the see-saw going. It gets exhausting.


Just like see-sawing with children.


But you do it for the joy it brings them.


So I keep on, even when my side gets so weighted down that I don't think I can keep going. Jesus becomes the fulcrum and together the ride continues.


Because those on the other side deserve to know a different type of joy, one that is eternal.