Grace in Unexpected Places

Today, I had the privilege of overhearing a conversation between “M” and “W”, a couple of Grade 1 girls, in the girls’ washroom. (By the way, I am constantly amazed at the amount of attitude and drama girls can display at such a young age!)

M (standing in front of the mirror, preening, posing, and fixing her hair): W, who told you? Tell me, W, who told you? 

W (from the stall): Nobody told me. 

M: No, tell me, W, who told you?

W: Nobody told me, M. I just know!

M: You don’t just know. Somebody told you. Who told you?

W: Nobody told me, M. 

M: Tell me the truth, W. Who was it?

W: I’m telling the truth. Nobody told me.

M: No, tell me the truth. Tell me the truth. Who told you?

W: Nobody told me, I swear. I’m telling the truth.

M: Don’t lie to me. Just tell me the truth. Who told you?

W: Nobody told me, I swear. Aks God. Aks God if I’m telling the truth and he’ll tell you.

M: I can’t aks God. Just tell me the truth, W, who told you?

W: Yes, you can aks God. Just aks him.

M: I can’t aks God. He can’t talk. I can’t hear him tell me. 

W: Yes, you can. You just have to listen closely. Just aks him. 

M: You can’t aks God stuff. He can’t talk to you.

I come out of the washroom stall and M sees me. She starts chattering to me as I wash my hands.

M: AmyLou, W says you can talk to God and he talks back to you. God can’t talk to you loud, like you can hear it in your ears, can he?

I am tell M that yes, God can talk to you. I am momentarily humbled by my difficulty to explain in simple terms what that actually means, and pause to ask for wisdom. As she looks at me with a quizzical, honestly questioning look on her face, I tell her that God uses Scripture and other people and his Holy Spirit to talk to you, that most of the time it’s not a voice you can hear in your ears but one that speaks quietly in your heart. 

I walk out wondering if that was the best answer to M’s question, and laughing at how these girls interact. I slowly realize how surprised I am at this conversation. M, although she is full of drama and sometimes acts out, is usually fairly well behaved at Exodus and participates as expected during praise time. W, on the other hand, is constantly testing, continually acting out, disruptive, and not participating well in praise time. My assumption was that W never really listened to the words of the songs the children sing, and that she was not learning anything from hearing Scripture at the program every day. My assumption was that M, though she was a work in progress, was listening and understanding.

As I replay that exchange in my mind, I realize how partial my understanding is and how wrong my assumptions are. M was missing a major part of who God is, that he is relational and communicates with us, while W understood that and took it as a matter of course that you can talk with God as easily as you talk with your friends. 

I am reminded of the gospel: that while we were still sinners rebelling against God, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8). That man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart (1 Samuel 16:7). That it is the Lord who searches the heart and makes perfect judgements, not us - thankfully! (Jeremiah 17:10). That it is by grace that we are saved, not by what we do (Ephesians 2:8). That even as saved people reconciled to God, he is still working in our hearts to change our outward actions and none of us are yet anywhere close to what we should be (Ezekiel 36:26, Romans 7). That certainly God does work in us to change our outward actions and habits, but that is not the centre of the story. 

I remember, once again, that the centre of the gospel is not what we do or how we are changed, but what Christ has done and how God has restored our relationship with himself. At the centre of the gospel is the precious and glorious truth that no matter how “good” we are, we are not good enough, strong enough, or wise enough. In our own efforts we can never be what we should be. Our efforts even serve to increase our debt as we try to usurp God by depending on ourselves for salvation instead of worshipping him in his holiness and perfection. And yet, Christ paid for that! God, in infinite love and mercy, extends extravagant grace to undeserving sinners like me. God, in infinite love and mercy, gives me a new heart, convicts me of my sin, leads me to repentance and trust, and increases my delight in his glory so that my life starts, as a side effect, to look different from before. 

Listening to these little girls, I wonder how often I relate to other people out of a works-based attitude. How often do I judge a person’s heart by their outward actions, acting towards others out of my assumptions about what it looks like outwardly to be a “good” Christian? How often do I underestimate God’s work in changing a heart and softening it towards him? How often do I use superficial, unimportant markers as my measure of progress in faith? How often do I act as if I need to change others’ actions so that they will be right with God, instead of simply living and speaking the gospel and allowing God to change hearts by his powerful Word? 

I am delighted and amazed to see God’s work at moments when I didn’t expect it, in the lives of little girls preening in the washroom, and in my own life. What a beautiful truth that the changing of hearts is not up to us, but has already been accomplished by a sovereign and loving Father God!

Some stories from current and past Exodus students

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wSEy2zYIgOw

Some New York pictures!

Here are some pictures so that you can check out what some of my New York adventures look like! For all of you who are not on Facebook, here is a link to my New York photo album:


https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.557271203686.2040758.180500361&type=1&l=214967a943

Fun stuff from my bros from church!

Here's something that some of the guys from CCF put together. Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vw_NRdeitxY&feature=share

Exodus from other perspectives

Operation Exodus Young Life leader blog:
http://rachelginnaty.blogspot.com/2012/03/washington-heights-young-life.html

Operation Exodus is on pinterest (if that is something you're into):
https://pinterest.com/operationexodus/

The Operation Exodus highschoolers are planning to go on a missions trip to West Virginia this summer. This is an amazing opportunity for growth for them, as they see the world outside their own community and practice empathy towards the suffering of others. It is also an opportunity for discipleship, as not all the students going on this trip are believers. Please watch this promo video they made and consider helping their fundraising efforts. And feel free to tell your friends about it too!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFgKovjlWh4

Peering through the cracks

The shell cracks - just a little - and I catch a glimpse underneath. 

It’s not what you’d expect if you saw only the shell. 

The shell is tough, seemingly impenetrable. It has no questions, no insecurities, no weakness. It is armed with dangerous-sounding words and expressions and actions. It glitters with the promise of easily-gained wealth, fear-based respect, and freedom from constraints. It is draped in apathy: no empathy for others, no emphasis on the value of others, no desire for excellence. It draws a firm line in the sand, and scorns any who cross that line: the wrong clothes, the wrong way of talking, the wrong amount of income, the wrong level of academic excellence, the wrong display of emotion, the wrong gender, the wrong social class, the wrong opinions, the wrong music. 

But the shell cracked, just a little. 

And this is what I saw. 

I saw a young man come to Exodus immediately after school, an hour early, and sit alone in a classroom with me, his chair pulled right up to the whiteboard, determined to figure out the answer to the problem written there. I saw him spend an hour working on the problem with me, recognizing patterns, trying to make sense of hints, begging for encouragement. I heard his shell say, “I hate you”, but the crack in the shell said, “Thanks for not letting me give up, knowing that I can do this, and walking through it with me”. I heard his shell swear in frustration, but he said, “Sorry, miss. I am determined to get this!” And I saw a smile that cracked his shell even further when he finally solved it. I saw him solve the next step, and the next - just for fun - and I heard his words dissolving part of that cracked shell: “You know, I’m actually having fun with this! I can’t wait to see how the others try to solve it!” 

I saw a room full of teenagers, most of them boys, pretending diligently not to listen to the guest speaker but actually listening intently, desperate to understand how to have meaningful relationships with the opposite sex. I heard their shells asking inappropriate questions just to get a reaction, but through the crack in the shell, they were asking, “What does it mean to be loved and to love someone? I don’t understand this stuff. Am I loved?”

I saw some really tough-shelled boys in men’s bodies feeling desperate and hopeless at a conversation about college, because they don’t feel they can ever get there. I saw honesty in their eyes when I asked them to think about a couple of things before they left, and they said, “Yes, miss, we’ll think about that.”

I saw a keen understanding of the world and yearning to be part of something big, something lasting, when a conversation with one boy started in ancient Rome and led to astute observations about our culture’s emphasis on living life for the short-term. I heard his voice fill with eagerness and excitement to be part of something that is lasting and meaningful. 

I saw young people returning day after day during homework time, exuding apathy and avoidance from their shell. Through the crack in the shell, I saw a desire to do well in school, to understand and learn no matter what obstacles are in their way. I saw them waiting, almost nervously, to make sure that I would get after them to do their homework, so that they wouldn’t lose face. Their shell said, “She makes me do my homework all the time!” But every time they come back and wait for me to push them to do their work, I hear them saying, “Please provide me with an excuse to succeed!”

And I saw twelve hardened teenagers, for one precious moment, forgetting that they had a shell. They watched the visiting volunteer group do a skit about how following Jesus is an all-or-nothing deal, leaning forward in their seats, completely silent and 100% attentive, totally engaged. In that golden moment, I saw twelve priceless kids hungry for a life rich with meaning. 

This week I have had the privilege of filling in for the high school program coordinator while she was away. It has been such an amazing reminder of the preciousness of each person and their desperate need for the gospel. It has been a challenge at times, and I have gained even more respect (if that could be possible!) for the amazing job that Amy and the other staff at Exodus are doing at living in love, being the hands and feet of Jesus to the kids here. 

A Very New-York-ish Evening

Yesterday evening was one of those days when I just have to laugh to myself as I realize where I am. We had a couple of days of workshops for tutors at Operation Exodus (I did one, listened in on others, and worked on followup/ implementation ideas). After the workshops on Friday evening, I headed out with a bunch of the ladies who work at Exodus and attend CCF (the church I’m attending here www.christcrucifiednyc.org/) to go to a concert.

We walked to the subway station, past police officers standing on corners, groups of guys hanging out in barber shops, and people selling produce from folding tables on the sidewalk. As we waited for another girl to meet us, we were standing at the entrance to the subway station, where there are numerous smells, most of them kind of nasty, and one of the girls with us realized that her white jacket had black streaks all over it. “That’ll teach me to wear white when I’m in New York City!”, she commented. Beside us was a pizza place selling pizza by the slice or the pie, and on the other side of us a little bodega (convenience store) selling basically anything you need, though in limited selections and quantities. Streams of people were going past us, sometimes walking right through the middle of our little group. About every 4 minutes, the doors of the elevator coming up from the subway opened and people spilled out, talking on cellphones, text-walking, or with their earphones in. Sometimes w

e even got to hear exactly what they were listening to on their headphones as they walked past.

We finally got on the train, and spent roughly an hour on it, talking, telling stories, grappling with concerns about the kids we work with, and having a great time. The train lurched (often) and I almost fell onto some stranger's lap (only once - after that I hung onto the bars better). Sometimes the subway car would shake and rattle, and we joked about what we'd do if the bottom fell out of the car. Every once in a while, someone would get on the train, and loudly spew off what sounded like a prepared speech about how they are homeless, don’t do drugs or drink alcohol, and need something to eat, so any food or spare change would be appreciated. Everyone avoided their gaze, except for the rare few who would slip them some money or food as they walked through the car. At one point, a group of boys (probably around 13 or 14) got on the train and performed in the centre of the car,

rapping and beatboxing as they took turns dancing (they were pretty good!). After they finished, they walked through the train to collect money from people. I then realized why everyone just ignored them; nobody wanted to give money. After they got off the train, a group of young adults got on and start singing songs in harmony, dancing and clapping. They then walked through the train, saying that they are from a church and are collecting money for churches in South Africa. We talked with one of the ladies for a while, and she handed a card to one of the girls in our group. We looked at it after she left; it was for a young singles group at this church. We laughed a little bit at that. At one of the stops, we were meeting another friend, and we had said for her to wait in the centre of the platform

. As we approached the stop, a bunch of the girls in our group pressed their faces against the glass of the train doors to see if they could see her. When they did, they started pointing, jumping up and down, laughing and going, “There she is!” and yelling her name. It was quite a joyful reunion (though maybe a little more exuberant than strictly necessary). :)

We walked from the subway station to the concert, where we were incredibly late and had to wait outside for tickets to become available. Our friend (and one of the leaders of CCF), Andy Mineo, was performing (he is a Christian rapper www.facebook.com/andymineo). He came out to chat with us, and the group of other people from CCF, and tried to cajole the ticket guys into letting us in. We did get in, just before he was up. It was awesome! Andy not only raps to God’s glory, but he also can’t help but talk about God’s saving work in Jesus Christ, in a way that is very real and with an enthusiasm that is infectious. And, to top it all off, the pastor of CCF, Rich (who is a former rapper), joined Andy for one song. Around us were people from all kinds of neighbourhoods and backgrounds, all really excited about seeing God change the city of New York through his gospel.

Afterwards, after some great fellowship with

CCF people (who take a minimum of an hour to leave any building, because we are so busy talking), I headed home so I’d have enough sleep to be full of energy for Operation Exodus’ Saturday morning program. On the subway ride back to my apartment, I chatted with a couple of teenage boys about snowboarding (they had snowboards on the subway, which is the first

time I’ve seen that). I sat across from a couple that had a huge duffle bag across their laps. About 10 minutes after they sat down, I realized that the duffle bag had mesh sides, and there was a dog in the bag, scratching and pressing his nose against the mesh. I also saw rats running around on the subway tracks while I was waiting to switch trains in one of the stations (I feel that is one essential New York sight - rats in the subway). On my walk back to the apartment from the subway station, I was almost run over by a kid doing wheelies on his bike on the sidewalk, as I tried to dodge everyone else on the sidewalk.

Most of the time it feels very normal to be here in New York, living daily life, although at times it hits me that mine is the only white face in the building, or that I haven’t seen grass for weeks, or that my accent sounds strange to others. When things feel “normal”, sometimes I forget to look around me at people and appreciate them for who they are, or to see the humour in a ridiculous situation. Sometimes I live my life like one of the people on the subway, jaded by constant pleas for money or help, blind to the individuality of each person, forgetting to look for beauty in the midst of concrete and buildings and nasty smells and trash being blown down the street by the winter wind. I am thankful for “New-York-ish” evenings like this one, that remind me that I am in the middle of God’s world and God’s work, and that it is an exciting life!