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Saturday, October 17, 2015

Church Beating Death..are YOU guilty?

A church in upstate New York has come under fire this week for the beating death of a young man and assault of his brother.


Reports state that the young man admitted to practicing witchcraft and threatened the pastor along with other members of the church.


This allegedly resulted in an hours-long beating session, ostensibly to beat the demons out of this boy.


They tried to handle a spiritual matter physically.


The weapons of our warfare aren't carnal... (2 Corinthians 10:4)


Their fists shouldn't have been their weapon; the sword of the Spirit would have won the battle.


There were no winners here. The parents are facing jail time; a supposed Christian church has incited a media frenzy, and the pastor is under fire for his methods.


Yet how many times do we do the same?


We tackle a spiritual matter in the physical realm.


Anger: Punching your pillow may be a great de-stressor but when you rebuke that anger that dwells inside you with the Word of God you will experience a true and lasting release.


Addiction/Alcoholism: Sobriety chips and Twelve Steps will help you stay clean but if you want to free from the bondage you cannot just be RECOVERED, you must be DELIVERED.


Abuse: Past traumatic abuse causes us to put up walls to protect ourselves. Some speak out as a way of healing; others hide it even deeper. But for some those strongholds remain, even serving as  fuel to survive. God wants us to pull down these strongholds and be free.


That's just the A's...


Reports also say that the church members were unsettled by the man's admission to practicing witchcraft.


I understand. Many are uncomfortable with the literal interpretation of preaching deliverance to the captives. (Luke 4:18)


But God says that rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft. (1 Samuel 15:23)


Have you never been rebellious? Manipulative?


Even in my Christian walk I find myself manipulating my husband often when I don't get my way. It's not something I laugh about. I know how the Lord sees it and I've worked on this for years.


But I still do it.


So just because I'm not sticking pins in voodoo dolls doesn't mean I'm not just as guilty of practicing witchcraft.


Often when I make statements like this, people will jump in to try and make me feel better.


"Yeah, but you are doing this..." or "But you aren't trying to hurt someone..."


But the Lord says that whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, is guilty of breaking it all. (James 2:10)


I know where I fall short.


And I don't need to think it's okay.


I'm no different from those on the streets.


Or this man in the church practicing witchcraft.


I know he was under the influence of the evil one.


I don't know why this pastor chose a physical approach. Maybe he was scared. Maybe he was misguided. Maybe he was under the influence of Satan as well.


I can't answer the questions as to why this happened.


I can answer this.


Have I ever tried to deal with a spiritual matter physically?


Yes.


Have you?

Monday, October 12, 2015

A Pastor's Heart...With Medea's Mouth


Some have found my candor refreshing.

They appreciate my honesty and willingness to be transparent. They respect my straightforwardness.

Being direct has always been a part of who I am.

It’s also been a part of what gets me in trouble.

Sometimes I say TOO much.

Like the time I told a girl in an abusive relationship to “wipe the doe-eyed  Bambi look off {her} face”  when she denied knowing why I was there to check on her.

I had channeled TomTom from 13 Going on 30 and hadn’t realized the words were coming out of my mouth until it was too late.

The girl recoiled as if I’d struck the latest blow and I was positively sick to my stomach.

Not even because of what I said because, quite frankly, she’d protected him to the point where it was literally destroying her life.

But her reaction was a mixture of hurt and confusion and I was responsible for that.

I did apologize, though she was not going to accept it.

This allowed her to continue playing the victim, now with another attacker to condemn.

She called everyone, including my husband, to complain. Most, EXCLUDING my husband, found that I’d been very tame in my approach and shouldn’t worry about it.

He, though, had taught me what it means to have a pastor’s heart.  And while he’d thought the same things regarding this girl, he would’ve never called her out.

His philosophy is to plow around a stump until it falls over. This causes the least damage.

I plow around too. Until I get impatient.

Then I throw a stick of dynamite on the stump and back up.

I can see where his way might be better.

But is it the only way?

Sometimes I think my very frank conversations (the ones where I’m not quoting a rom-com mean girl) are what has allowed me to reach people on the streets and develop much deeper relationships.

I have a pastor’s heart…with Medea’s mouth. (Minus the cursing!)

Medea would tell you in two seconds flat what she thinks of you and what you need to be doing, and she will cut off any bull and gore you with the horns.

I don’t want to gore anyone but I don’t want to mince words either.

You have today. That’s all you’re guaranteed.

To paraphrase Garth Brooks...

 If tomorrow never comes…

Will you know how much He loves you?

Will you know how much He cares?

Or will it be too late?

 

Saturday, October 10, 2015

A Raging Debate...Which Side Are You On?


Lately I’ve come under fire for my stance in helping panhandlers.

Some think I’m wrong for not carte blanche helping those in need. Others have accused me of not being a true Christian.

I generally let those remarks glide by, knowing that serving God is enmity with the world.

But I am human and I occasionally let the flesh get in the way. I’m also a woman, and we tend to seek validation from others.

Ultimately, though, my ministry is about Christ so I soldier on.

However, when a questionable comment came from a dear sister of faith, it gave me pause.

Was I wrong?

Her comment was that we should help those in need and let God judge their intent.

For the most part I agree.

If I had a homeless ministry that only helped the homeless who were doing well, it wouldn’t be much of a ministry. In fact, it would probably cease to exist.

The men and women out there that I see on a regular basis are angry, addicted, hurt, abusive, and/or drunk. That isn’t the core of who they are; it certainly isn’t how God made them. We are fearfully and wonderfully made in His image. My job is to help them see the person God intended for them to be. To believe in His promises. To strive for a life pleasing to Him.

And I have the tools to help them obtain that life.

Some aren’t ready. For them, I just maintain a relationship of trust, so that when they are ready they know where to turn.

These are the homeless you DON’T see.

They are the ones in the woods, in shelters, in abandoned houses, in soup kitchens, and behind stores.

They are in need, lost and hurting, and the reason the Lord allowed my ministry to grow.

Occasionally they panhandle.

But to assume all homeless people panhandle is faulty reasoning.

So is assuming all panhandlers are homeless.

Below are snippets from a few conversations I’ve had regarding panhandling:

“It’s my turn to go panhandle tonight to make enough money for dinner for everyone [in Tent City}.”

“I’m going to go fly a sign so I can get a new radio and batteries.”

“I’m going to stay out there {panhandling} until I get enough for a 12-pack.”

“I’ve got to make $200 today before I go back to court or they’ll lock me up.”

These people were all actually homeless.  And while some people would’ve been bothered by how the money was spent, others wouldn’t. These were still needs, at least for them.

Then there were those who weren’t homeless but truly in need:

“I can make more holding a sign for an hour than working for 8 hours at McDonald’s. This way I don’t have to pay for child care.”

“My husband spent every dime he made on drugs so I had to go stand on the corner with a sign just to have money for groceries for the kids.”

Sad, but this happens often.  These people have homes but they are included in my homeless ministry because they are just as much in need.

And then there are the others.

These are the ones I warn against.

It is tough when you are at a red light or driving by at 50 mph to assess a panhandling situation. Even without a sign, if someone has put themselves in a high-traffic, high-visibility area, they are “panhandling.”

You have a split second to make a decision. Help or not?

Some say don’t help at all. One of the most beloved mission directors on the Coast has a rule: “If they are panhandling, I won’t feed them.” Her theory is that if they are able to panhandle, they are able to work.

Before you assume she isn’t a good Christian, let me tell you a little more about her. She feeds 200 people three times a week, conducts church services, English classes, and job training. She refers people for jobs, arranges transportation, and calls local neighbors when she receives more donated food than she can use. I’ve seen her offer to watch a woman’s six kids while she went on a job interview and fix bicycle tires and chains.

This woman is a force of nature and I feel blessed to know her.

That doesn’t mean that I automatically agreed with her stance. Because I didn’t.

Until now.

Maybe it takes being out on the streets, or being in this field of ministry, to get a true picture of what really goes on. To see the ramifications of helping someone you shouldn’t.

Some will say, “Well I gave this person $20. That’s between her and God what she does with it.”

The problem is, it’s not just between her and God.

Sometimes it affects an entire family.

Take Tamera, for instance.

Tamera has two kids. The children’s father isn’t in their lives but he pays monthly child support.

She spends every penny of it on drugs. Along with their food stamp card which is traded for cash each month.

The kids have never lived with her, though according to the court she is the primary custodial parent. Her mom has been raising them since birth, with Tamera in and out of their lives. They are on a fixed income and while these grandparents love their grandchildren, they are old and tired and utterly brokenhearted.

When Tamera runs out of drug money, she sits on the interstate off-ramp with a HOMELESS NEED FOOD sign.

She doesn’t need a home, or food, or cash.

She needs to go home, sober up, and be a mother.

When the kids were younger, she’d bring them along to panhandle. NO-ONE can resist a mom on the streets with kids. The truth is, very few shelters  turn away a mom with kids so to see one on the streets is suspect to begin with.

Her oldest daughter, now a teen, is starting to rebel. She’s following in her mother’s footsteps and has already been picked up by the police once.

The youngest daughter is in counseling after several suicidal comments.

This whole story came out after I visited her in the hospital, two days after she nearly died on a bad batch of drugs.

It’s been three months and I saw her just yesterday, strung out and weaving down the street with her latest boyfriend.

Every twenty-dollar bill pressed into her hand is one more needle in her arm and one more nail in her family’s coffin.

As horrible as this is, I witnessed something even worse this week.

The effects on a church.

Last week we helped a pair of sisters move from one hotel to another, even paying for one night’s stay. Later we found out that they were professional panhandlers and had fabricated their entire story.

For us, we just moved on. My husband and I were in agreement and we knew we’d done all the Lord wanted us to do.

For another local church, it wasn’t so clear.

Some members had helped them move TO the hotel we’d moved them out of, doing the same thing we had just two days earlier. They’d become suspicious when the girls told them they’d gotten a job at a nearby restaurant because the manager was a friend and he wasn’t hiring.

When their pastor encountered the girls, he also wanted to help.

He told the church he wanted to pay for two weeks in the hotel for the girls and rent an apartment for them out of the church’s benevolence fund.

Some church members protested.

This is a pretty small community and many people had already encountered the girls. Knowing their stories weren’t consistent, they had reservations.

They also had needs within their own church.

A debate ensued over helping church members who were in need of groceries and utility assistance over the girls who were clearly not telling the truth.

Those opposed to helping the girls weren’t opposed to helping the homeless or those truly in need. They were just opposed to giving money to these girls.

The pastor did it anyway. He didn’t care what their intent was; he just wanted to help.

Five families have left the church over this.

What people fail to realize is that Satan is EVERYWHERE. Including behind some of the homeless faces on the streets. 

Yes, we may be entertaining angels unaware. We may also be entertaining fallen angels.

The devil destroyed that church through these girls.

Do I think they were aware of the spiritual havoc they caused? Probably not.

But they weren’t totally innocent. They were running a scam and opened the doors to let Satan use them.

In this church both sides were seeking to serve God.

One by helping anyway, even if the motives weren’t pure, to minister to a lost and dying world.

The other sought to be wise and to abstain from all evil.

There were no winners.

Unless you count the devil.

I bet they didn’t even realize when they drew up sides that HE was the real opposition.

And they both lost.

So I guess it doesn’t matter which side of this debate you’re on, after all.
As long as you recognize the true enemy.

Thursday, October 8, 2015

MOVING DAY!!!

Tomorrow is MOVING DAY for Eric and I am so excited!


We've been working on getting him out of the woods for over a year. (He's been there for ten years.)


An honorably discharged veteran, we knew that he was at the top of the lists for every "Vulnerable Persons" report out there. The national coalition for homelessness targeted homeless veterans as the focus for 2015. Income or not, every veteran was to be housed.


Eric initially didn't care.


He'd lived in the woods so long that he wasn't sure he could acclimate back into society.


We didn't force the issue; we just kept sharing Jesus.


And our hot dogs.


Eleven months later, Eric was ready to venture out of the woods.


He was nervous and understandably so. He'd lived in a one-man tent for so long that even going to a restaurant was daunting.


But we took baby steps.


Two months later all of the paperwork has been done and he has a new apartment.


He's still a little nervous. He's afraid something will go wrong in the eleventh hour.


It's been two months of eleventh hours so I think we are finally good.


I'm excited.


I don't always get to see the fruits of my labor. I don't mind because I'd much rather store up my treasures in Heaven.


But this one is a bonus!


While no-one is looking, me and my two left feet will be doing the happy dance!







Tuesday, October 6, 2015

A HOW-TO GUIDE FOR HELPING THE HOMELESS

One of the questions I'm often asked is How do you know if you should help someone or not? Or What do I do when someone comes up to my window?


Sitting at red lights and on exit ramps, we become captive audiences for solicitations and panhandlers alike.


Many people give money and go on their way. Some will circle back with food. Some just stare straight ahead, eyes unflinching.


There's no right or wrong answer; you do what you feel led to do in those situations.


But sometimes you are approached at a gas station or in a parking lot with bigger needs and more elaborate stories.


This is where you need to be smart.


There are true people in need out there and we are commanded to help them.


That doesn't mean to take your kid's diaper money and give it to the beggar on the street corner. (I've seen that happen more times than I can count. The most generous ones are often the ones most in need themselves.)


Nor does it mean to skip winter coats for your kids and buy blankets for the homeless instead. (There's an abundance of churches and individuals at Christmastime who flood homeless camps and shelters with warm blankets and coats. If you have it to give, by all means, do so. Just don't take it out of your own family's basic needs.)


Now if the Lord tells you to do these things in faith, you should do them. But more often than not, when someone puts their own family in a bind to help others, it is a misguided attempt to serve the Lord through works.


Walk in the Spirit, and ye shall not fulfill the lusts of the flesh. Galatians 5:16


Yes, even doing good things, if not done in the Spirit, is fulfilling the lusts of the flesh.


Many times I've received calls from tearful moms in the community begging for help with formula or snacks. They'd felt so sorry for someone they saw under a bridge, and guilty that they had a home, that they'd given their grocery money for the week and were now in a bind.


I've gone to the store for some of those guys under the bridge before. They had more cash than I did. Some will even refuse money from a young mom they know is struggling.


Not many, though.


We now know what NOT to do, but what DO we do?


As I've said before, the standard answer is to be led by the Spirit. That makes any black and white instructions null and void.


But for the sake of my pragmatic side, I will give an example of a situation that happened to us just yesterday.


We were at the gas station, filling up. A guy pulled up to the pump next to ours and approached my husband in somewhat of a desperate tone. (Remember now that we have ministry signs of the side of our van saying SERVING CHRIST BY SERVING OTHERS.)


He needed help; his son had been in a bad car accident in New Orleans. (FYI, this is the 5th time we've heard a version of this car accident story in the last year. It is a popular one.)


He left Alabama so frantically that he'd forgotten to grab his wallet. He was just trying to get some gas to get to his son.


I was listening through the car window; my husband Dale was pumping gas.


While Dale became more unconvinced as the story went on, I was the opposite.


This guy is in his 50's or 60's. He's too old to be scamming. (Yes, I know...even I laughed at my own naivety later on.)


Dale sat in the car and asked what I wanted to do.


I wanted to get gas for him. Plain and simple.


But I wasn't going to just give him cash.


We'd already sponsored the habits of the two sisters earlier in the week. (One of which had a boyfriend running their scam we found out yesterday.)


So I went inside.
I put $20 on his pump and walked back to tell him.


"Um, this car is new so if it doesn't take all $20, will it go back on your credit card?"


Um, I know gas has dropped but not that much so if your empty tank can't take $20 we might have a problem with your story...


"I paid cash," I told him. "I'll just wait here until you pump it to make sure it takes it all."


He hung the nozzle back up and sat down in his car.


"Are you okay?" I had my doubts, but I wanted to believe him, to believe he was just too upset to pump his gas. Even on the streets, I truly want to believe the best in people.


I started to pump the gas myself.


"No! No! Don't do that! Look!" he exclaimed as he held up his wallet. "I found my wallet. I must've grabbed it after all. I can get my own gas. You go get your money back."


"Are you sure?" I was prepared to still pay for the gas, but he had become like a caged animal and couldn't escape fast enough.


"No. No," he repeated. "You go get your money."


The second I headed back into the store, he tore out of the parking lot.


Nearby drivers, having heard the exchange, began murmuring.


"He didn't want the gas after you paid for it?"
"That was weird."
One guy, standing next to a propped-up hood, laughed and hollered, "Hey, I'm waiting on my wife to get here if you want to help me!"


I laughed and just shook my head.


I wouldn't have minded spending that $20 to help. Even if it WAS my last $20. But I would've been wrong to just hand him the cash.


When we get someone a bus ticket, we take them all the way to the bus station, pay for the ticket, and sit until they leave. It's too tempting to hold on to the cash.


I watched a young man spend 6 months in Tent City and 2 months in jail before he made it home to New Jersey because every time someone sent him money for a bus ticket, he'd spend it on drugs.


It seems a little Big Brother, I know.


But would you go buy someone a bag of marijuana, a crack rock, or some spice and hand it to them if you saw them holding a sign?
Because nine times out of ten, when you hand them cash, you're doing the same thing.


Be wise.
Benevolent, but wise.


Saturday, October 3, 2015

Mexico Calls for Euthanasia of Homeless Folks

Okay, so I took a page out of the salacious media's playbook by posting a SLIGHTLY misleading headline. It's not the entire Mexican government wanting to conduct mercy killings.




But there is a Mexican councilor who went on record saying she believed homeless people should be put to death.




She thinks that's the most humane thing we can do for them.


"Yes, they are a little crazy, but they're harmless. Which is why I think to myself, wouldn't it be kinder to just give them a lethal injection?" Olga Guiterrez Machorro suggested.


Ironically, Marchurro is the chairman of the Commission for Vulnerable Groups in Tecamachalco, Puebla.


Not surprisingly, her remarks were met with anger.


Including my own.


But then I read several different accounts of this story.


And I'm not entirely sure that her comments weren't taken out of context.


She complained about homeless folks being sent to psychiatric hospitals and then released in the middle of busy highways if they were found to be not dangerous. Many ended up being run over by passing cars.


Is it possible she was being a little facetious making her controversial statement following her complaints about the treatment of mentally ill homeless people?


Yes, she should've known better but knowing how sarcastic I can be at times, I could see this easily happening to me.


Of course, I don't KNOW that she was misinterpreted. She may have been serious about euthanizing homeless folk. I don't know.


I do know the media, however.


So I'm giving her the benefit of doubt.


The bottom line is, there are a lot of mentally ill people on the streets and we are failing them as a society. Here in the United States, in Mexico, and around the world. We need to find a solution.


One that doesn't involve murder.













Friday, October 2, 2015

Professional Panhandlers

A few weeks ago I wrote about an organization taking advantage of society's most vulnerable by using the name of Jesus.


I was furious.


I'd be upset over mistreatment of individuals and misappropriation of funds in ANY organization, but when the organization claims to be a Christian one, I get downright angry. (Yes, I do have to repent.)


This week, though, I learned something else about myself.


I get just as angry at people on the streets using the name of Jesus to scam people.


Many will say "God bless you" when you help them, feed them, or pray with them. Some mean it and some are just saying what they think you want to hear.


This doesn't bother me.


Nor does it bother me when someone wants to come to church on Sunday and then stay drunk Monday-Saturday.


Well, that does bother me a little...


But...


None of that draws ire like what happened a few days ago.


We were eating lunch in town and passed by two girls on the way out. They were sitting in a booth reading a Bible. We nodded and smiled, then headed to our van. The one with the ministry signs.


As soon as we reached it, the younger girl caught up with us.


"We were wondering whose vehicle this was," she began.


By this point in my ministry, I'm cautious. I listen but know that I'm probably not getting the truth.


Yet with her, I found myself believing every word.


She and her sister had come down from Connecticut to bury their mother. They had one night left in the La Quinta Inn nearby but would have to move to the cheaper Days Inn the next day. They had job interviews the next day to make some money then they would decide if they were going to stay here or go back up north.


Their mom had been an elder; they been raised in church. They loved the Lord. He had provided for them every step of the way on this tough journey. Like meeting us at the exact right time that they needed help.


They needed $30 to have enough money for their hotel room the next night. My husband gave it to them. We don't often give money and never more than $5 but they seemed to be on the level.


It was beginning to rain so we offered to give them a ride back to their hotel. On the way, they asked us to pick them up for church on Sunday. They wanted to meet fellow Christians in the area.


We made arrangements to give them a ride to their new hotel the following morning and I told them I would look into some resources to help them while they were looking for work.


The next day we showed up in the hotel lobby as they moved a truckload's worth of belongings.


Having previously housed additional suitcases that surpassed Greyhound's limit when putting families on the bus, I immediately knew they had not just arrived. So I asked.


"How long have y'all been here?" I knew they had previously said they just came down last week.


"We got to Bi-lock-see about a month ago but just got here." This was the second time I heard a homeless person mispronounce Biloxi and I started wondering if it was a calculated effort to seem foreign to the area.


Once doubt creeps in, I have trouble keeping my "detective training" from kicking in. Dad taught me all the tools of his trade and, coupled with my propensity to play dumb blonde, they'd served me well over the years.


However, nowhere in the gospel does Christ command us to act dumb to investigate sinners undercover so it becomes a war within me.


He does tell us to be wise as serpents. And harmless as doves. I do better with that first part.


He also tells us not to cast our pearls before swine.


So it justifies a LITTLE digging on my part.


As my husband lugged box after box to the second story motel room, I casually made conversation. I got their last names in case we could issue a check. I really wanted to believe these girls, but I was having serious doubts.


The older sister began talking about the Bible and biblical feasts and prophecies. The more she talked, the more unsettled I got.


When we left, my husband agreed that things weren't adding up and he had the same bad feeling in his spirit.


I went to one of my new favorite spots online: Mugshots.com.


I put in the now-known first and last names.


15 hits.


These girls were professional panhandlers.


They'd been arrested in Florida, Georgia, Arkansas, and Texas.


They've apparently never lived in Connecticut.


Nor did they recently come to Mississippi to bury their mother.


Because they were in Bi-lock-see doing time two months ago. They still have charges pending there.


They called all day long and left voicemails. They'd gotten jobs at McDonald's; they started the next day. (Not true. Even if hired, there was an extensive background check and orientation process.) They were just wanting enough money for a hotel room for a few nights.


I didn't call back right away because I wasn't sure what I was going to say.


Did I tell them I knew they were liars?
That we couldn't help because they had too many arrests?
Or because they had pending charges?
Did I tell them we knew they didn't have a job because we'd talked to the manager?


I needed to pray it through.


I was mad. Mad at myself for not catching on, mad at them for lying.


What was so unusual? People lie to us all the time. Why was it bothering me so much?


Yes, we gave them money and we gave them our time but we've done that for people we knew were messing up.


What was it?


Was it that they were women?


It finally hit me.


It was because they were using Jesus in their scam.


I was livid.


If I've said this once, I've said it a thousand times out on the streets.


Tell me you're on drugs. Tell me you've got anger issues. Tell me you'd rather drink in a tent than be sober in a home.


Tell me anything you want, just don't lie to me.


And don't use the name of Jesus to manipulate me.


These girls had done both.


When we stopped in town for lunch on the way home, we had a full view of the truck stop next door. Those girls were steadily making the rounds. They had a system.


Approach the men and women in professional clothing.


Then they split up. The older one hit up the truckers in the back while the younger, more congenial, sister approached those getting in their cars at a nearby Waffle House.


By the time we left, they'd met back up.


Noticing our van, they headed toward it. As we started to drive off, they stopped and turned away.


My husband was headed in the opposite direction. "No, go up near them," I told him. All at once I knew what to do.


As we approached, I rolled my window down.


"Hey," I greeted them. My smile was genuine.


"Hey," they replied with matching smiles. Probably not sincere.


"Congrats on the jobs," I told them.


I wasn't being sarcastic; I responded to the information they'd given me. Maybe they will get jobs.


"We didn't hear from you," the younger one pouted. I briefly wondered if it was a rehearsed hurt or a genuine one.


"I'm sorry." I looked them both in the eye. "We don't have any funds until January so there's nothing I can do." This was true. I'd just learned the day before that September 30th was the cut-off date for all 2015 funds.


They knew. The look in their eyes exposed them.


But I wouldn't call them out. And I was sorry. Not that I couldn't help their scam but that I couldn't truly help them.


They need to be set free as well.


Maybe I'm learning that harmless as a dove thing after all.