Intercede...or Intervene?

I thought I'd seen it all.

But last night, I was faced with a new dilemma.

And I have no idea what I'm going to do about it.

I intercede for people on the streets all day long. I lift them up in prayer, I speak blessings upon them.

I don't intervene.

If someone asks for help, for counseling or for rehab, I will step in. But I've never considered inserting myself without an invitation.

Until now.

Last night I got a call from Stan, a personable guy who is a caretaker for a woman he calls "Grandma." They aren't related, but she considers him family, having lost her own son years ago.

Stan wants help in finding a home for her.

He says she has become increasingly negative and hard to live with. He's had enough.

I've met "Grandma" a few times and while I know that her life has been tough, I also know that she is able to care for herself, preferring Stan's company to being alone but not needing it to survive.

Yet she signed Power of Attorney over to him.

Which gives him the right to have her put in a home against her will.

I have a pretty good idea of the whole picture.

Stan likes take homeless people in for a few days to help them. He calls us frequently to help, and I know he has a good heart. But he also spends his days out on the streets hanging (and drinking) with the homeless. He feels different because he has a place to lay his head at night yet in most ways, he's living the same life they are.

I know "Grandma" hates it. Stan sees friends; she sees bums.

I imagine her "negative attitude" is nothing more then her expressing her feelings about yet another homeless person camping on her couch. This time, it is a woman we'd just sent to rehab for a second time, who left and hitchhiked back only to find her drug-dealer boyfriend shacked up with another girl.

I'm supposed to go over there this afternoon to talk to her.

Stan wants me to convince her to go into a home so he can do whatever he wants with whomever he wants in her house.

I want to tell her to change her will, removing him as her POA.

I'll probably do neither, listening and encouraging them to work things out instead.

I will pray that the Lord precedes me, making my every step and word His.

Because on my own, I have no idea what to do.

You figured it out, now what will you do about it?

That's the question I'm asking myself today and I doubt a resolution will occur before I sign off.

I generally write about a problem post-solution, but today I'm sharing in the hopes that someone will say ME, TOO and commit to making a change with me.

It won't be easy.

I recently came across a "Happy Birthday, Jesus" card I'd written in church last year. In it, my birthday gift to Jesus was my entire life, a commitment I'd made prior to going into full-time ministry.

As a little post-script, I'd asked the Lord for more REFINER'S FIRE.

Herein lies my naivety.

I'd done this once before, prayed for that fire that removes all impurities in my life. Thirteen years later I was ready to emerge from the heat. I'd erroneously believed all I needed was a little polishing.

I swore never to do that again!

Yet here I was, once again asking for the fire, and once again thinking I only needed buffing.

I was wrong. Again.

The fire is hot.

And it hurts.

Despite the leaps and bounds of growth in my quest to resemble a making in His image, I still had a ways to go.

Some issues were easy.

But some remained hidden.

Until last week.

One year after asking for more fire, I was hit with the one thing that has become a major stumbling block for me.

I still have a stubborn streak a mile wide.

And a very, very rebellious heart.

Until now, it hasn't been evident because I've been making the right choices, doing the right things.

My rebellion didn't keep me from being compassionate, or responsible, or loyal.

But it did keep me from walking in the fullness of what the Lord has for me.

And now that it has been revealed, I have to make a decision to make. Change. Or keep on, knowing the Lord has called me to work on this area of my life.

The very issue at heart, the rebellion, instantly rears its ugly head. Why should I have to? I'm doing good things here. Don't tell me to change. If you don't want me as I am, get someone else.

Even as those thoughts enter, I recognize the devil.

So I rebuke them as a new wave hits. What if I can't change? What if I'll never be who God wants me to be?

A little harder to recognize, but even humble-sounding, meek-mannered thoughts are still the devil's when they promote fear and sorrow.

So here it is.

Me with a microscope showing the speck in my eye (which has probably been a beam to everyone else all along) trying to figure out what to do next.

Ever the pragmatist, I long for a list that gives me A-B-C instructions that I can cross off in my quest to banish this rebellious streak once and for all.

Yet also at times a dreamy idealist, I just want to be able to wake up perfect and be able to change the world just as easily.

Since neither scenario is going to happen, I have to walk in faith, submit EVERY thought and conversation to the Lord, and ask the proverbial WWJD when selecting meals, music, movies, and more.

I pray that in time it won't be so hard, that my words and choices become more Christ-like without effort, and that my will is broken and molded into HIS will for me.

This struggle isn't hard, or particularly deep. My moral compass is still pointing due North. But if someone tells me to go left, I often want to go right.

It is the underlying issue, the rebellion, that creates the barrier between me and God.

This is what I am committing to Him. My will.

What about you? Is there an area of your life He has pointed out to you that needs a little work? Something big or something small...it all becomes HUGE if it stands between us and the Lord.

And quite frankly, it is the smaller things that cause the bigger divide.

It's easier to give up the big problems- drinking, drugs, gambling...

Than it is to let go of the small ones...unforgiveness, pride, rebellion..

What better time than now?

Christmas 2000-something

Twelve years ago I wrote what would now be considered a blog post, but then it was just playing around on the computer pretending that someone would care what I had to say!

The depth of my writing would fill a kiddie pool, and there was very little perspective outside of my own world.

That said, it was fun to look back and see what my thoughts were then.

I thought I'd share them today. (Unlike most posts, NO NAMES were changed!)

Christmas Cards and Status Updates

by Jeanni Thrasher

            I did a little better this year. My Christmas cards arrived at their destinations by Christmas Eve. Last year, my Christmas greetings included the line “Happy Easter” with my signature.

            While the new year is a time for looking forward, Christmas is usually a time for reflection. Family and friends send cards with photos and letters detailing highlights of their year. Of course, no-one ever writes about their son’s failing grades or the plumbing bill that required a second mortgage, but even non-politicians have the innate ability to become spin masters at Christmastime.

            So as I’m reading these newsy updates, I realize how young most of my friends are. We may have been born around the same time, but these people have not aged at the same rate. There’s no evidence of bad knees, sore backs, or memory loss. They are tanned, toned, and joined by adorable little offspring in matching outfits with perfect coifs.  I, on the other hand, am in the running for the female doppelganger of the Pillsbury Dough Boy and on most days, my children appear as if they have just rolled out of bed.

            However, I do enjoy reading these letters, even if they do have suspiciously fictitious undertones. It is a way to reconnect, and to reminisce of days gone by. I remember Christmas 1984 when Beth, Jennifer, and I piled into my mom’s old Bonneville and cruised the local strip for hours. And Christmas 1997 when Melissa and I had the misguided notion that it would be fun to take our combined eight children to a Christmas parade in 37-degree weather.

            Now I’ve found a way to reconnect year-round. During a reunion with my childhood best friend Margaret, after a thirty-year absence, in Tyler, Texas last summer, our conversation turned to former friends and acquaintances. Margaret had updates on dozens of them.

            “How do you know all this?” I wondered aloud. I mean, she knew DETAILS. Where they worked, how old their kids were, what they had for dinner last night. This does NOT happen by sending out belated Christmas cards.

            “Facebook,” she chirped.

            WHAT?!!! This was my law-abiding, rule-following, keep-it-between-the-lines friend. On Facebook? Isn’t that a breeding ground for internet predators?

            I must have wondered that aloud too because she began defending the site with the same ardent defense my teenagers had once unsuccessfully presented to me. But this time, out of courtesy, I listened.

            “No-one can access your page unless you accept them.” Wow, it’s like junior high again. You have to be accepted…She wasn’t exactly winning me over.

            “It’s safe. It’s a lot of fun. It’s a great way to reconnect with people you went to school with.” Now I was a little intrigued. There were people I wondered about. Of course, there were also some that I never wanted to see again, but she assured me that I could “ignore” them.

            Still a little skeptical, we parted with me promising to look into it. So when I got home, I decided to visit the infamous Facebook. I created a profile. I searched for childhood friends, classmates, and relatives. I requested friends, and confirmed friend requests. I viewed friends’ pages. Was everyone really that thin? I dug through the desk drawer to find that Kodak disc that contained pictures from the decade when I could still wear a bikini and uploaded a new profile picture. I laugh when former classmates say I haven’t changed a bit. Thank goodness it’s not a webcam!

            I must admit I was hooked. I spent hours that first week clicking away. I was struck with the odd realization that Facebook was like that old Health talk you got each year. If you “click” on someone, it’s like “clicking” on everyone they’re friends with, and then “clicking” on THEIR friends, and so on… What a network!

            You give status updates. What are you doing now? What are you doing NOW? Well, I wasn’t cooking. I wasn’t cleaning. I wasn’t thirteen either with only the responsibility of making my bed. So I logged off. I do still check my Facebook page every few days and am delighted each time an old friend has signed up and wants to reconnect. It’s like receiving Christmas cards all year long!

MERRY CHRISTMAS

I pray that you all have a wonderful Christmas!

Ours is half over, if you count the family celebrations. Having celebrated "Nana and PawPaw's Saturday Before Christmas" Christmas last week-end, we had a great meal and opened gifts with my parents, my sister and her family, and my four kids. Joined by the longtime boyfriends of my oldest and youngest daughters, we enjoyed sharing old traditions and making new ones. (A fairly mild first-ever family game of "Dirty Santa" turned vicious when oldest grandchild Callie stole a S'more Fondue Pot from youngest grandchild Emma.)

We decided this year to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas with the grandkids. My husband's son and his wife just had their fourth child and we are excited to spend the day with them. It's been a few years since our own four kids were living at home and we've miss the childhood excitement of Christmas.

I've been cooking for two days, planning a SHRIMP FEAST for Christmas Eve (shrimp fettucini, lemon pepper shrimp, shrimp etouffee, shrimp cocktail, shrimp and grits, kung pao shrimp, and shrimp mac-n-cheese) and the more traditional dishes for Christmas Day (turkey and dressing, corn casserole, green bean casserole, etc.). Not to mention the fudge! I've made every kind of fudge I could think of: chocolate, chocolate walnut, chocolate pecan, caramel, peanut butter, cappuchino, candy bar, cookie dough, white chocolate...

But I know it's not about the food...or the presents...

Last year, I wouldn't even celebrate Christmas. We just went out on the streets. I felt bad that I had a home and they didn't. I brought turkey plates and desserts.

This year I have a slightly different perspective.

I've been out a few times this week.

And I've brought fudge.

But I should not feel guilty for spending Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with my family. I should not feel bad that I've spent most of my time cooking (and celebrating my anniversary) this week.

The Lord has given me this marriage and this family to cherish.

That can't take a backseat to ministry.

When it does, everything gets out of order and the ministry ends up suffering more.

So this year I will give my husband a gift he's asked for all year...my undivided attention.

But even that won't detract from the real reason we are even celebrating.

It's about Christ. His glorious birth and life here on earth...

Have you stopped and REALLY listened to Christmas carols lately? The ones we grew up singing?

Oh come, all ye faithful...

Have you been faithful this year to the Lord?

Come... joyful and triumphant...Why? Because, dear Christian, you have overcome the world.

Joy to the world...

Why? Because you get presents? Or a day off of work?

No! Because THE LORD HAS COME...We should be receiving our King.

In our hearts. In our souls. In our lives.

Don't get me wrong. Presents are great. Holiday food is amazing. Family time is the most special time of all.

Just don't lose sight of the reason for the season.

Especially now, when so many places are saying HAPPY HOLIDAYS or SEASON'S GREETINGS instead.

Not me. I'll shout from the rafters....

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! 

Christmas and Street Corners

Christmastime is a time of joy, and goodwill, to all men. It is an excellent time to teach our children the virtues of giving rather than receiving.


With cases of "affluenza" popping up everywhere, there's no better time than Christmas to reach out to those in need and show the younger generation what the true meaning of the season is all about.


Helping the homeless is the mission of many groups and individuals at Christmastime. Homeless camps and shelters receive an abundance of food, clothing, blankets, and toiletries at this time of year.

It is much needed and much appreciated.

Except for those who aren't truly homeless.

This is where it gets tricky.

Every on- and exit ramp on every major interstate in the country has someone standing with their hand out right now.

A small percentage in the increase of visibility can be attributed to the transient nature of homelessness. Some are trying to get "home" while others are just trying to go. Holidays are hard, even for the most well-adjusted.

But the bigger truth is far darker.

Quite simply, most holding signs at this time of the year aren't even homeless.

Because of my work with the homeless, I know most of the homeless population around here. I also know their families, their friends, and their hangouts.

I meet the newcomers to the area and find out where they are headed, what their plans are.

I don't purport to know everything, nor do I consider myself an expert on homelessness.

I do know what I see.

And right now, I see a lot of people out to make an easy buck.

They know that people are extremely generous this time of year. They know the heavy traffic areas. And they know how to write HOMELESS on a sign to tug at your heartstrings.

You buy their drugs, their alcohol, their cigarettes. Your food bags are tossed into the trash can (if not tossed back in your face) and your goodwill and naivety is laughed at.

Be smart!

If you see a new person in an area you travel often, it is best to keep going. You may feel uncomfortable or even guilty, but remember...GUILT is the devil's tool, not God's.

The "homeless" at the I-10 exit by my house right now are 3 guys and 1 couple. They've taken the 4 ramps. The couple live nearby and have spent time in and out of jail for possession. Two of the guys came over from Alabama. They live 30 minutes away but people know them over there so they are spending their days here. They average $200-$300 a day. The fourth guy is from here but is truly homeless. He is a nomad, traveling as a carnie or working truck stops. He has been gone for a few months but came back to this area since it is home. He doesn't plan to see his family, though, he just wants to be here. I understand, having a strong need to go "home for the holidays" myself. But he just panhandles all day and gets drunk at night, then starts over again. I can't do much more for him than I already have, which is give him a tent, a sleeping bag, a first aid kit, and a phone number to call if he wants to give it all up.

Everyone out there on the streets has the same resources. Food, clothing, beds...these are available to almost everyone. Cold weather shelters are open across the country when the weather drops below a certain temperature.

Every homeless person on the streets has a "rolodex" of ministry cards at their disposal. (This was a wake-up call for me initially. I thought I HAD to help, because no-one else would. I was number four on speed dial.)

The reason many are on the streets and not in shelters is that you are required to pass drug tests or breathalyzers to stay there. There are rules.

Some just don't want to follow the rules.

Having been a rule breaker myself, these are the ones I gravitate toward.

But my help is not in cash for them to get drunk or high. I'm even careful with material goods, having seen a few returned for cash.

My advice is simple:

• If you want to help the homeless at the Christmas, give to a shelter or organization with a proven track record helping the homeless.
• Don't give money or food to those at street corners or exit ramps. If someone is truly looking for help, they are most likely not holding a sign.
• If your church or school group wants to donate to those on the streets, get with your local homeless coalition or a pastor with a street ministry to find the real needs. Some of our "Tent City" residents made over $1000 in drug money by selling (and stealing others') boxes of unused goods last Christmas.
• Do NOT spend money you don't have on helping others. There are so many ways you can help- and teach your kids to help-the less fortunate: serve at a soup kitchen, make Christmas cards to hand out (we bring out boxes of homemade fudge with kid-decorated cards each year..a favorite on the streets), donate used clothes and toys to a shelter...the list is endless.

Have a very Merry Christmas!

Boring Isn't Bad

Disclaimer: This post was written in two parts. Two vastly different parts.

Part 1:
Day 2 of Summer Vacation is akin to Day 2 of Christmas Vacation with kids.

A resounding chorus of "I'm bored!" echoes through the house as you start your own countdown to the parental celebration known as School Starts Back.

I suppose I was the same way as a kid myself.

But I'm not a kid anymore.

Nor do I have kids still living at home.

So I now find those days with nothing to do, nowhere to go, and nothing on the horizon rather.....
MARVELOUS!

Boring isn't bad.

In fact, a day with no crises (and plenty of time to confirm that the plural of crisis is indeed crises), is a respite from the Lord, a time of rest to just enjoy the wonder of it all.

String together three or four such days in a row and you have a true vacation!

It was needed.

Not for all that I'd been dealing with, but what was to come.

You don't have to look very far to confirm that we are in the End Times. No longer calling sin sin, we now have highly influential people telling us the Bible is outdated. Acceptance is key, no matter what His Word tells us.

It turns brother against brother. Father against son. Us against Him.

In such times we must remain vigilant...and faithful.

And when we have such times that we have no dilemmas, no drama..we certainly shouldn't create any.

I treasure my mountaintop experiences. Sometimes it seems like a rolling meadow, a glen, as there's no excitement, no "high". But time with the Lord, when you feel like you can just relax, is not only NOT boring, it is the apex of worship.

Part 2:
My respite was not short; it lasted a few days. But it literally ended in the midst of my post.

Over a week later (two weeks?) I'm finishing it up while sitting in a waiting room to see a specialist with my youngest daughter.

A family member had a medical scare the day of the post and set off a chain of events that hasn't stopped.

Susan left the domestic violence shelter and got back with her abuser. For crack.

Scooter went to jail.

Daniel needed a tent as he was headed back to the streets.

I met two new men. One, with a pickle tattooed on his face, was new to town and living under the bridge. Another was passed out drunk by a trash can.

The phone started ringing several times a day again.

Another family emergency.

Three community hospital visits.

We were able to help the two new ones. And Daniel.

But what do I do for Susan and Scooter? They want help but not the kind of help they need.

They NEED Jesus.

And they keep rejecting Him.

I'll keep loving them, though.

And looking forward to some BORING times to come.

Sometimes You Just Have to Scream

Sometimes there's just nothing else to do but grab a pillow and scream into it as loud as you can.

Or go into the woods where only a squirrel can lay witness to your complete and total lack of control.

Because that's it in a nutshell.

You just can't control everything.

For someone like me, who likes to manage the puppet strings of all life within a 1000-mile radius of my own, the realization is infuriating.

It's not wrong, I think, because I want yo do GOOD. So everyone should be GRATEFUL for my interest.

And, of course, do it my way.

It sounds less absurd in my head as the frustration mounts over things I desperately want to control but can't.

So I'm left with a decision.

Suppress it. Shut people out. Get resentful.

Keep trying to change things, justifying that I know what the Lord wants so it's not necessary to actually turn it over to Him.

Or actually let go and let God take the reins.

And scream into a lot of pillows.

'You Get Two Choices"

I visited Ronnie in the hospital today.

I wasn't even sure I would, wasn't sure what I'd say. After all, Ronnie was the reason I'd had to visit several girls in the E.R.

But, as my husband gently reminded me, he needed Christ too.

So I went. On the way I prayed for the compassion that had eluded me regarding this man since I discovered his dark secrets.

Midway through our polite conversation my husband stepped out to take a phone call and my blunt nature took over.

"Are you just trying to kill yourself?" I asked him. "All this anger..all this rage that comes out with that bat is literally eating you alive."

He was like a caged animal, or a guilty first-grader, rapidly firing off the misdeeds of others and spinning the same tales I no longer believed.

Accepting defeat I sat at the foot of his hospital bed and started to pray the perfunctory hospital clergy prayer.

Somewhere in the midst of the prayer, after binding the spirits that tormented him as well, the real Ronnie emerged.

Broken and repentant we continued our conversation after the prayer ended.

"Ronnie, I know everything and I'm still here. That's the love of Christ. You cannot even imagine how much greater His love is for you."

He started to receive this love then wavered.

"But she..." "But he..." "You know I..."

I cut him off.

"None of that matters when you stand in front of the Lord," I told him.

"You get two choices: He's either going to say 'Well done, my good and faithful servant' or 'Depart from me, I never knew you.' That's it. No one else will be standing there for you to point fingers at. Now do you know what He's going to say?"

I left him with that; he has some soul-searching to do.

What about you? Two choices. On that day of judgment, what will He say to YOU?