I have begun to realise that responsibility is tough.
There's a new girl in town. She works near me and we chat. She tells me how she has just moved to town and knows no one. I nod and sympathise and say how tough that must be. All the while I know I could definitely help out with that issue. But that would be tough. That would be putting myself out there, opening my life outside of work to her. It would be new. I find myself avoiding asking questions about how her days off were, because I know the answer will make me think of all the things I could have invited her to and how it could have been different. But that would be a little bit tough wouldn't it?
But I know, within me there is a little voice telling me that this is what I am meant to do. That if I truly want to live a life following Jesus, I need to be looking out for the lonely and opening up my life to people who need company. If I have the means to fix it, then why wont I?
By telling Jesus I want to be more like him, I take upon the responsibility to live to that.
There's this boy. He tells me how he has no parents, food, money or home. How he is addicted to drugs and how he prays to come off them. He says he has been in prison and no one will employ him because of his convictions. He can't afford glasses so he can't see properly.
I listen to his stories, helpless as to what to do and where God is in all this.
By praying for my eyes to be opened to opportunities and things Jesus wants me to see, I open myself up to see people like thes and the responsibility to act on that. And it's tough. To be honest, I would rather not. I can't do anything for this boy, apart from be there, listen and buy him the occasional Mcdonalds meal. It would be easier to shrug it off, recede back into myself and carry on my life.
And often, I find myself thinking that I shouldn't always be doing things I don't want to do, Jesus wouldn't want that. But if I am meant to be a light where I am, then I need to take this on. And I am all for growing, changing and being that person that lives a life different from the normal.
I want that compassion that directs people to Jesus. That pbvious point of difference.
Responsibility is tough. But I know it is worth it.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
hello, again.
She is different everytime I see her.
On Monday she was scrubbed up nice with a multi-coloured woollen jersey pulled on over her trackpants. She proudly informed me that it was new, given to her by a lovely lady at the Methodist church.
'It's nice, isn't it?' she said, smitten, pulling it out from her and waiting for my answer. I agreed.
As we waited for her pizza to be cooked, I caught glimpses of what her life had been.
Kids, a proper job, death, alcohol, drugs, the streets.
And in that moment as she told me this I wondered, what is she thinking? regret? a sense of disappointment? Was there any other way? Did someone try to stop it?
Tonight, as if she were a completely different figure, bumbling down the main street, hair dishevelled, and a look of detachment in her eyes, asking anyone and everyone for change.
'Please miss can I have some change?' she looks into my eyes.
As we sit there, more of the story comes out. Her and her partner have had a fight. She got on the drink. Today was payday and she's used it all with no money for food.
She asks if I have a partner and I shake my head.
'You're lucky' she says in her raspy voice and says something about how she needs to get off the drink.
She's right. I am lucky.
I am lucky to have a home, have a solid life, have had a good upbringing, have had love, have opportunities, have choices, have a job I can hold down, and am lucky that I am not so attached to drink that I will go without food in order to have it. I make choices day to day, not thinking about the consequences, and thats what she did also.
Her consequences were just a little more drastic.
I bet when she started back in the day, she would never have realised this is where she would end up. That she would be relying on strangers to get her through.
I wonder what the solution is? what made her start?
This woman has a special place in my heart but she needs hope. It's not enough to tell her that Jesus loves her, she needs to see him act in her life.
I will continue to catch glimpses of where she's been, who she is and what can be done.
But she also needs food, a home, someone who cares enough to pull her out of what she's in.
We can do so much but Jesus needs to do the rest.
I have wild hope that he will come through for his daughter, Margaret.
On Monday she was scrubbed up nice with a multi-coloured woollen jersey pulled on over her trackpants. She proudly informed me that it was new, given to her by a lovely lady at the Methodist church.
'It's nice, isn't it?' she said, smitten, pulling it out from her and waiting for my answer. I agreed.
As we waited for her pizza to be cooked, I caught glimpses of what her life had been.
Kids, a proper job, death, alcohol, drugs, the streets.
And in that moment as she told me this I wondered, what is she thinking? regret? a sense of disappointment? Was there any other way? Did someone try to stop it?
Tonight, as if she were a completely different figure, bumbling down the main street, hair dishevelled, and a look of detachment in her eyes, asking anyone and everyone for change.
'Please miss can I have some change?' she looks into my eyes.
As we sit there, more of the story comes out. Her and her partner have had a fight. She got on the drink. Today was payday and she's used it all with no money for food.
She asks if I have a partner and I shake my head.
'You're lucky' she says in her raspy voice and says something about how she needs to get off the drink.
She's right. I am lucky.
I am lucky to have a home, have a solid life, have had a good upbringing, have had love, have opportunities, have choices, have a job I can hold down, and am lucky that I am not so attached to drink that I will go without food in order to have it. I make choices day to day, not thinking about the consequences, and thats what she did also.
Her consequences were just a little more drastic.
I bet when she started back in the day, she would never have realised this is where she would end up. That she would be relying on strangers to get her through.
I wonder what the solution is? what made her start?
This woman has a special place in my heart but she needs hope. It's not enough to tell her that Jesus loves her, she needs to see him act in her life.
I will continue to catch glimpses of where she's been, who she is and what can be done.
But she also needs food, a home, someone who cares enough to pull her out of what she's in.
We can do so much but Jesus needs to do the rest.
I have wild hope that he will come through for his daughter, Margaret.
promises.
'The Spirit of God, the Master is on me because God annointed me.
He sent me to preach good news to the poor,
heal the heartbroken,
announce FREEDOM to all captives,
pardon all prisoners.
God sent me to announce the year of his GRACE - a celebration of Gods destruction of our enemies' and to comfort all who mourn,
give them bouquets of roses instead of ashes,
messages of JOY instead of news of doom,
a praising heart instead of a languid spirit.
Rename them 'Oaks of Righteousness' planted by God to display his glory.
They'll rebuild the old ruins,
raise a new city out of the wreckage.
They'll start on ruined cities, take the rubble left behind and make it new..'
Isaiah 61:1-7
HOPE.
He sent me to preach good news to the poor,
heal the heartbroken,
announce FREEDOM to all captives,
pardon all prisoners.
God sent me to announce the year of his GRACE - a celebration of Gods destruction of our enemies' and to comfort all who mourn,
give them bouquets of roses instead of ashes,
messages of JOY instead of news of doom,
a praising heart instead of a languid spirit.
Rename them 'Oaks of Righteousness' planted by God to display his glory.
They'll rebuild the old ruins,
raise a new city out of the wreckage.
They'll start on ruined cities, take the rubble left behind and make it new..'
Isaiah 61:1-7
HOPE.
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