A Christmas Story

If you walked up our gravel path you’d hardly notice the house. Years of unaltered growth had made our home part of this place. The branches of the old oak trees reached for the light spilling out of the windows. The tips of the trees were showered in gold. At night, I’d fall asleep to the groans of the strong trunks, as the oaks bent with the wind. These woods are a part of us, and we are a part of them.

 

Twenty-one years ago an oak sprang from the soil right behind our house. The roots dove deep in to the charcoal soil and the branches twisted around the back door. My wife and I marveled at the determination of this single seed. It had blown here to find us. This oak became a part of our home, and we became a part of it.

 

Tonight, the wind blew snow in all directions. Inside, the fire was dangerously big. It cracked and spat bits of amber around the room. I could hear the old oak whine and groan with the wind. The sound of its aching joints resonated within the frame of the house. Tamara and I sat on a sheep-skin rug near the fire. A glass of red in hand, we waited. We waited for Joy. We waited for Peace. We waited for our Muse. And we waited for Hope. We had sent them on their way like all parents, but now they were coming home. They were a part of us, and we, wherever they went, remained a part of them.

 

Suddenly a wave of cold air disrupted the steady flicker of the fire. A bundled figure stomped in from the cold. Across her face was a colorful scarf. It covered most of her, but her blue eyes peered out from behind the blurs of orange and pink. I could tell she was smiling. She quickly unwrapped the layers in one grand gesture. She stood before us; eyes bright and cheeks pink. Her hair was long, dusted with sprinkles of ice. She seemed to twinkle as the light danced off her. She threw open her arms wide and laughed. The light of the fire grew. It was warm and bright in here. Joy was home. I held her in my arms, I warmed her cold face. She was a part of me, and I was a part of her.

 

Tamara held the hand of Joy, as eggnog was passed around. The three of us sat on the warm rug. Laugher rose high into the beams of this house. The creaking of the old oak rose an octave. It no longer sounded sad or forlorn. As it embraced our home it laughed along.

 

Our youngest daughter was describing a scene. Arms high in the air, her face was animated as she strutted around the room. Just then, I heard a firm knock at the door. Our laughter hushed as Peace swept in the room. Her long brown coat was draped to her toes. Her dark rimmed glasses were fogged from the cold, and masked her face. Hair swept across her eyes and fell down her back. She looked worn and tired, but then I saw her eyes. The deep green sent a wave of comfort into the warm room. Over her shoulder was her only bag – a tattered canvas sack, weighed down with books and jars of medicine. When she opened her lips the familiar voice echoed in this place. Throwing down her bag, she ran over and lost herself in my knitted sweater. She’d travelled across the earth, but she was still a part of me, and I was a part of her.

 

I brought in a guitar from the other room, and for a moment stood in the doorway. Tamara sat with her girls on either side of her. Joy was making them both cry with laughter. Peace had her head on Tamara’s shoulder. It felt as though no time had passed at all. Peace looked up at me and took the guitar. Delicate fingers on the strings, she played us a new song. I let my eyes close. The chords were rich and her voice was soft. Opening my eyes I saw the door open quietly. My eldest daughter was home.

 

The storm had gotten worse outside. The old oak stood still though, embracing and protecting our home. Muse had an arm full of books and papers. As she quietly inched the door closed it blew a gust of wind that upset her papers and sent hem flying. Joy and Peace jumped up to catch them and ran to tackle their sister. She took off her brown tweed coat and danced around with her sisters. Her mouth was in a warm smile, though she looked exhausted. Her once neatly placed hair was left tossed across her face from the storm. When she spoke her words were clear and warm. My daughter put down her books softly by the fire and took me and Tamara in her arms. She let herself sink deep into my embrace, she was more happy to be home than I knew. She’d been gone a long time, but she was a part of me, and I’d always stay a part of her.

 

We sat around listening to stories. Tamara brought out a book of recipes and she and Muse sat brewing over the possibilities. Gingersnaps were passed around and more eggnog was poured. These were my girls. Another log was thrown in the fire and talk and laughter filled the room. The house rattled and groaned with the storm, and we all loved it. The room was warm, and comfortable and alive. Joy ran to the window as a figure climbed the steps. Hope was back home and we could all feel it. He had no bags, just a tightly wound scarf and wool mittens. A guitar was slung over his back. He had let his beard grow long, and it engulfed most of his face. But I could see his rosy cheeks and his wide grin. Taking the guitar off his back he unraveled the layers and stood before his family in a flannel shirt. With his hat off, his hair was long and thrown this way and that, creating what looked like waves. A couple strides and he was across the room. He first gave Tamara a long hug. She fixed his glasses and patted his hair. He looked at me with that spark in his eyes. He was on the verge of something great, he knew it, and we could feel it. He was a part of me, and though he was out there changing the world, I knew I’d always be a part of him.

 

The wind continued to howl. Yet, I knew that old oak would bend and sway as much as it could, but it would always come back to protect the structure of this home we’d made. The fire blazed higher, and our cheeks were rosy with wine. I looked around and saw it all. Laugher fell from our lips; Joy was home. We lay on the sheep-skin rug, content; Peace was home. Talk and discussion rose high above the rafters; Muse was home. We could do anything, we were whole, the way it was meant to be; Hope was home.

They were a part of me, and I forever would be a part of them.

written by Emma, Ariel and Avery Smith

Thailand or Bust…

 

 

 

It was Tuesday, November 24^th, when we loaded all of the Kelowna Discipleship School students and staff into “Albi” (the name chosen by our students for the 12 passenger van).  It just so happened on this particular day that we were to fly to Thailand a military coup had begun in the Bangkok airport. The one place in the world that we wanted to get to....go figure?.  As we approached the check-in counter in Vancouver for China Airways, we were immediately told that we were unable to fly “due to the political unrest in the Bangkok airport”.  All flights into Bangkok had been cancelled.  They had, however, explained just a few hours prior that they were indeed flying as scheduled.  The frustration began.

 

By this time we were well into the evening, so we made ourselves very comfortable on the only soft-ish armrest-less chairs we could find.  Over the next 2 days we had extreme ups and downs.  China Air confirmed seats to Taipei for us the following day, only then to call back and cancel those seats…and on and on it went.  The second morning (after an awful sleep) I had a thought to call some media attention to our situation.  I phoned the Vancouver Sun and CBC Vancouver news explaining our predicament  (we ended up in the Van Sun).  Later that day a reporter named Oliver, from the Global News, called me on my dying cell phone.  They wanted to do a 5 o’clock news spot on our team.  At this point I thought “oh man, we’re in the big leagues now.”  I didn’t want to commit to anything unless it was a last resort.  I immediately called my ‘fast becoming friend’ at the China Air sales desk.  After hearing the same information over again from her: ‘we are trying to get you on this flight blah blah blah’, I let her know about my other ‘friend’ Oliver, at which time there was an elongated pause in our conversation.  We finished our call very suddenly and within 5 minutes I had the head of China Airway Vancouver Sales Desk on the phone.  The strangest thing was that within those minutes they were able to confirm 9 seats on the flight leaving only 5 hours from the current time (a flight we had been told many times was full).  In short, our conversation was one where the tables had significantly turned.  After 2 long nights in the airport and 3 days all 13 of us finally had a confirmed flight to Taipei!

 

About 25 hours later we ended up in Utapao airport, a military base about 3 hours south of Bangkok. This military base was originally built for the US B-52 bombers in Vietnam (hence the long enough runway for the jumbo jets).  It was your typical airport experience: circle the landing strip a few times before landing; land the double-decker jumbo jet; line up nose to tail with other jumbo jets (15 or so); park and then restart the in-flight movie service (nothing says we are going to be here a while like restarting the movie once you’ve landed).  Four hours later we had finally gotten off of the plane, through “customs”, and obtained our luggage.  We walked out of the airport through about 100 feet of tunnel made up of taxi drivers, bus drivers, merchants, and stranded travelers.  All of this to meet the friendly faces of Sukit (the pastor), Amp, Bo, and Yao Ming.  We were very blessed to have gotten in when we did. Due to the international airport being shutdown, they were attempting to move people through Utapao, however China Air only flew the one flight that day, which we were not even scheduled to be on.  God is good. 

 

The students were amazing throughout the whole time, especially in Vancouver.  It was an experience that brought them closer to each other, as well as closer to the reality of why we were going.  It is hard to explain.  The only thing I can say is that being told that you are unable to do something, and really being in a situation that you can do nothing to ‘make’ it happen, is extremely humbling and stretching.  Had we booked our flights a day later we would not have left home.  We would have made other travel plans and possibly even different outreach plans.  If we had left a day earlier, we would have gone with no ‘hiccups’ at all.  Therefore, I conclude that God must have had something in that process for us to learn (and I don’t think it was to see how much influence the media carries, although, that could be a conversation for another time).

 

The students adapted very well.  Bangkok is an experience so far from anything we have in North America.  I remember hearing some of the students being overwhelmed with the smells of sewer as we walked down the street.  Some were overwhelmed with the chaos of motorbikes and cars and taxis all mixed with the chaos of pedestrians and merchants.  Others overwhelmed with the children and the poverty all around us.  All of this said, they reached out to the Thai culture and powerfully experienced the culture reaching back to them.  The entire team went with an amazing heart to receive.  I am not sure that was even their plan.  However, they went to integrate with the Thai Christians, be vulnerable, and experience the kingdom. 

Integrating into the Christian community in Thailand was interesting and refreshing.  Jess and I have led teams to a couple parts of the world, in every case there is always someone from either Europe or North America leading.  It is often western church done overseas.  That was not the case in Bangkok.  While there, the students took in each day as it came.  Some time was scheduled, but for the most part, they spent time interacting, playing games, serving etc.  This can be a challenge as we live in a culture that values scheduled allotted time for scheduled compartmentalized events.  In Thailand, they take life as it comes and whatever comes is a part of life.  The first Sunday gathering the second day we were there was a good example of this.  Sukit interrupted his teaching with a request that everyone begin to pray for the woman pacing in the street out front of the meeting place.  Of course everyone stopped reading, or listening, or talking, and began praying.  After a couple of minutes the woman came into the church and everyone applauded.  Here that would have been a interruption to the scheduled event; there it was a life opportunity…interesting. 

 Every student in one way or another has been vulnerable throughout the school, but especially in Thailand.  What a powerful statement to the Thai community.  It has been so good to break the paradigm of western missionary teams going to ‘bring good news’, which can be so stifling to what God wants to do.  Instead, I think through their transparency, their openness to Sukit’s teaching, and their response to what the Father is doing, every student has engaged in Kingdom activity both in their own lives and in the lives of the others living in the Thai Community. 

One of the scheduled events that we were able to help with this year was the Christmas party for the children.  The children there are amazing.  I remember a particular time walking down the street playfully picking a few of them up by their ears, tickling, or chasing them.  Before I knew it, there was about 10 kids pulling on my arms or touching their ears suggesting that I pick them up as well.  More would then begin to gather.  I immediately began thinking of the book Lord of the Flies; children everywhere with no adults, no control, and a bit frightening…but there was no pig.  With my lack of Thai words the only thing that I could say was ‘mai dii,’ which means literally, ‘not good.’  Of course they continue to laugh.  That is essentially what we were dealing with as we spent the day in a rented, paved, open area running games for about 300 kids from the slum area.  Our team came up with 5 games, somewhat carnival style, and ran all the kids through each one.  It was something to see.  We had the entrance gated off.  There was a very large mob waiting to get in.  There were kids photocopying tickets trying to ‘bootleg’ their way in…amazing.  At the end of the day there were 300 happy kids, 25 very tired leaders, and a thick feeling of accomplishment.  It is amazing to bring joy to people.  Had we done the equivalent party here in North America, the response would have been fractional.  The kids would have most likely scoffed at us for how cheesy or how stupid the games were, or just not engaged at all, but there, this was joy like many of those children would not experience again until the following year. 

The whole experience of this school thus far has been exceptional.  Sure there have been hiccups and things to overcome; relational and community living issues and so forth, but at the end of the day 10 people have gone through an experience that will influence the rest their lives.   For Jess and I, being a part of an intentional discipleship community that values healing, spiritual, and character development has been a dream that we have shared together for many years. 

 

Thank you for your support and your prayers. 

Justin Brown

 

 

Mr. Big discovers he is little and that God is big

Mr. Big lives next door to the Bangkok Vineyard. He picked his own name but didn't, it seems, pick his neighbors. There's no sign on the front of the building next door announcing that it's a church nor even a sandwhich board out front on Sunday mornings inviting people to a service. It took Mr. Big a while to figure out what was really going on with those people next door. They gave him lots of reason to be curious. After all, there always seemed to be something going on: English classes, music lessons, singing, laughing and always those big meals where everyone spilled out onto the street. 

 

Supposedly they were Christians but not like any Christians he had ever seen. He used his five story concrete walk-up to run his import - export business. Cheap rent and close to the shipyards. It's a great location even if he had to keep an eye on his BMW parked out front. His neighbors though. What were they up to?

 

To be honest, it wasn't really the activity that made him the most curious. What kept him peaking around the corner was the mix of people. All walks, all ages and all of them seemingly included in what was going. So, when one of them struck up a conversation, Mr. Big was only too happy to respond. After all, this was his chance to get some answers. He got some but not a lot. In fact, pretty soon it was Mr. Big providing the answers to their questions. Telling them about his ailments and chronic back pain. Explaining his business to them and detailing all the gods he prayed to to keep things rolling along smoothly. Mr. Big grew to trust his neighbours. They seemed safe. Safe enough, in fact, to consent when they asked if they could pray for his bad back. He had asked all his other gods in his prayer room back home for help. Surely, getting someone to ask the Christian god wouldn't hurt. It didn't.

 

Mr. Big's back is fine now. The pain is gone. So is his dependency on alcohol. So are all the gods on all the shelves of his prayer room. All of them replaced by a big painting of Jesus. Mr. Big stretches his arms wide to show how big it is. He spends a lot of time next door these days. Mr. Big won't shut up. To anyone that listens and some that won't, Mr. Big tells of how Jesus met him and how Jesus stays with him. "Jesus is with me every day. Every day. Last night, I don't drink. Jesus stayed with me. He is with me every day. Every day." Mr. Big really won't shut up.

 

The Bangkok Vineyard grows and contracts. The noise that spills onto the street rises and falls and the struggles come and go. In it all, the real Jesus meets real people. People like Mr. Big. Jesus meets them every day.

 

Over the last couple of weeks, Todd and I had the very real privilege of traveling to Asia to take part in the first gathering of Thai Vineyard churches. We then proceeded on to Indonesia to meet with Vineyard leaders from throughout southeast Asia. I've returned encouraged and re-focused and with more faith onboard than when I left. How could you not when you get to meet a Mr. Big or two along the way.

 

Dave Ward

 

Does life have the domino effect?

When we think of wrong doing and evil, we often think about it in the context of a individual or headline figure…., Paul Bernado, Jeffery Domer, , the BTK killer (Dennis Rader), to name a few recent people given to evil and then there is the classics --- Bonnie & Clyde, Al Capone, Adolph Hitler, and Judas to name a few.

Yet often hurt and pain that is caused to us and that we cause to others isn’t often a result of being identified with the extreme evil people in culture nor is it always attached to individuals.  Is it possible that while doing our jobs or living our lives, that we cause hurt and pain to people simply because we are interconnected?  Is it possible we cause unknown stress and pain to people because we are insulated by larger systems, organizations and corporate structures that don’t allow us to see the implications of our small part of the equation that results in evil.

This week I received a call early last Sunday morning letting me know that Charlie Farrier died at 5 a.m. that morning (September, 14^th) in the hospital. Though he was frail over the last weeks his death was unexpected and the cause still unknown.  I was sad for Charlie and for Edna (his living partner) but I was also sad for the community of the trailer park where Charlie had lived many years.

Within one year 3 of those who lived at the trailer park for many years have died and Margaret, Edna and one other have all gone through major surgery.  Edna just was taken out of isolation this week after she had triple heart bypass 2 weeks ago.  She was in one part of KGH hospital recovering while Charlie was in the other when he died. As I tried to comfort Edna in her loss of Charlie and her personal anxiety about her own health and future life with no pension and no income now I was struck by the volume of those in the trailer park who have succumbed to their sickness this year.   In fact I said to Edna that I wondered if all the upheaval of having to move out of the trailer park and relocate in their vulnerable states (age, health and income levels) had impact on the volume of stress and seemingly increased health problems of everyone.  Her response was “absolutely it contributed to it all.”

Here you have people working in the City of Kelowna office doing their jobs, buying property, expanding beaches parks, doing things for the greater need of the city. Turning the trailer park and home of the vulnerable into a parking lot for the beach. In the meanwhile these simple, disconnected decisions are affecting people like dominos…. No one involved is knowingly or willingly trying to hurt people or cause undue pain and stress…. And yet they are.  People are dying. I am struck by how much I or maybe you affect people simply by our decisions made in isolation, disconnected from the reality that hurts and pains others.  We are interconnected.  Our choices made in the vacuum of our needs or of not knowing can cause people to fall like dominos for good or for ill whether we like it or not and whether we know it or not…

The good news in this story is I vividly remember Margaret, Edna & Charlie coming to one of our community meals where we served communion about a year ago.  With no experiential knowledge of church or church culture they came to Robert and I to receive communion.  As we explained the Jesus story to the 3 of them I said as you take this cup and eat this bread you are saying yes to Jesus….. you are drinking in his story to yours.  You are saying Jesus you are who you say you are – God….. with tears in their eyes all 3 nodded their heads and said yes to Jesus by drinking of the cup and eating of the bread with Robert and I…. Some sense of destiny came over me when I heard of Charlie’s passing this week.  Here the stress and pain of upheaval opened them to relationship with us and us to them. In that place where the dominos of life where falling on them the redemptive power of Jesus emerged through this small crack in their lives and made its way to their hearts. 

While we can be a part of domino’s falling on others we can also be a part of God’s redemption finding the cracks of stress in others lives…. and see Jesus piercing through with hope.  Edna had said to me that Charlie has said in his will that he did not want a funeral so instead in a few weeks she asked us to help her host a “remembering Charlie” gathering with friends and family. Details to follow.

Todd

Marlene, Makeovers and Making friends

 

Zambia, Africa. The "dark continent"…

Would I be interested in going there for two weeks as part of a team (each paying our own way) with an organization called Seeds of Hope?

My "well, maybe" soon became "yes" and several months (and a number of vaccinations) later, I was on a plane to Africa. The team consisted of 12 of us from Canada. Seeds of Hope has a small orphanage (for under school age children) in the city of Ndola in northern Zambia and a boarding school called Grace Academy in the countryside outside of Ndola. The kids at the orphanage have AIDS or are orphaned because of AIDS. We were going to paint the new rec hall beside the school, build bookshelves for the school and work one on one with some of the kids who are struggling with reading and writing.

The website for Seeds of Hope includes the slogan "sowing life, love and laughter". Indeed, that is what we saw and experienced. Kids who otherwise might have been dying or dead from AIDS are alive and active, and full of energy and laughter and loving Jesus. There is lots of hugging and affection and joking and teasing between the kids and between the kids and the teachers and the dorm parents. (Zambians hug first on one side then the other.) Listening to their songs of praise brought tears to my eyes several times – they sang with such freedom and passion and joy, and the sound of if seemed to me like a foretaste of heaven. Several of the dorm moms were amazing as they shared their walk of faith – when one of the team commented that she hadn’t slept well, a dorm mom said, "isn’t that wonderful – that gives more time to pray"!

The poverty and disease in Zambia is overwhelming. Over 90% of the people earn less than $2 per day. We visited the Children’s Hospital and gave small gifts of food and stuffed animals to the children and their moms, and prayed for and with them. Some of the hospital rooms had 6 cribs crammed together in a very small room, with a single wood chair beside each crib for the parent, as someone must stay with the child to care for them. There were several malnutrition rooms, where the children looked just like the starving children we see on TV. It is impossible to describe the emotions of seeing and touching and praying for a child who is sick and dying from starvation.

We went to one of the compounds (slums) and gave out tickets to be redeemed the next day for large pieces of plastic to help cover leaky roofs. In terms of the need, we had just a small number of tarps, which is why we had to be selective about who got tickets. It was again heart breaking the next day when many people who didn’t have tickets showed up wanting a plastic tarp, and we had no more plastic to give. Imagine being so poor you can’t even afford a piece of plastic to help keep your roof from leaking.

We went to church. It was wonderful, especially the praise and worship. The pastor did a brief teaching on prayer, using the acronym ACTS – adoration, confession, thanksgiving and supplication. Offering time involves dancing up to the front to put one’s donation(s) into any or all of the 3 offering baskets (one for the building, one for the pastors, and one for a general ministry fund. Zambians greet each person in a group individually, no matter how big the group. So, after the church service, everyone files out row by row, and shakes hands with everyone who left before, and then stands at the end of the line to greet those who follow after. It was great. We were especially blessed to find out baptisms were happening after church. The whole church body walked through the compound (slum – which is where the church is) – down to the river, and about 15 people were baptized in the river. It was wonderful.

We were amazed at how well everyone on the team got along, considering we were 12 people sharing 3 bedrooms and 1 bathroom in a hot climate. We learned to be thankful when we did have electricity, (and how to cook outside with charcoal when we didn’t). There has been major flooding in many parts of Zambia (and other southern African countries) this year, and their power grid is very fragile. In the 13 days we were in Zambia, we had 4 major power outages, lasting at least 8 hours, and sometimes closer to 24 hours each. These outages affected the whole country - 11 million people, as well as some of the surrounding countries like Zimbabwe and Mozambique and South Africa.

We were deeply humbled and profoundly touched by the Zambian Christians we met - their joy in the midst of suffering, and their generosity and their warmth. There is a profound beauty and simplicity about their walk with Jesus. We may have much materially, but they have much spiritually. One of the team was talking with the gardener Paul, who had 4 more kids added to his family several years ago when his sister died. She said "don’t you get discouraged and feel sad sometimes about your situation?" His response "yes, sometimes, for a few minutes, but then I think of heaven, and everything is okay again."

Just returned home

Lynnda

It is not just us…

I had an epiphany a few weeks ago. My son Keelan had joined me on our trip to Toronto to visit some of the pastors and vineyard churches.  On the Friday night, he and I had the privilege of seeing the Toronto Raptors play for his 15^th birthday present. The Raptors are Keelan’s favorite team and basketball is fast becoming his favorite sport.

As visitors we had arrived early to the Air Canada Center as we didn’t want to miss a thing and the hope of getting an autograph from Jamerio Moon (his favorite player) lodged in the back of our minds (to no avail mind you).  As the audience assembled and the National anthem(s) were being sung I was surprised to see the stadium was half full. The game started and it was still only two thirds full at best…. To my surprise it wasn’t until the end of the first quarter that the Air Canada Center filled up completely.

I chuckled in relief…. It is not just the vineyard that cannot seem to assemble on time, I thought to myself… and the Raptors sell tickets (take that off my list as a possible motivation)…. it appears to be a cultural phenomena….  We are a time challenged people and yet maybe we are all saying something collectively about time that isn’t all negative….it is more Asian in nature.

Initially I thought our time challenged lives were solely a reflection of our inability to organize ourselves towards our priorities but then again it might be deeper, even more intentional… we value something more than time… what is that something….?  It brings me pause.

What we as a culture are saying I am still left pondering but curiously so.

Todd

I really just wanted to go to church

Yesterday on my way to the Laurel, I stopped at the Royal Bank ATM to get some cash.  The 3 youngest kids were with me and got ahead of me as we were heading to the bank. I yelled to them to wait and as I got closer I said “ Stay close to me, there are “Riff Raff” down here” Just as I said this, I rounded a corner and there was a woman very obviously a crack addict and prostitute.  I said “See” to the kids and immediately felt the conviction of the Spirit – Did I just call her “Riff Raff?”  It came out of me so naturally, that I was shocked.  I proceeded to try to keep my little lambs close to me as I fumbled with the magnetic card to get the door open.  I felt afraid as the woman was hovering close by and I wondered if she would try to rob me.  I got the door open finally and tried to hurry in, but she said “ I need to get in there, I lost my receipt”.  I didn’t know what to do, so I let her in.  I prayed as I got the cash out and hurried out with the kids, relieved that she hadn’t pulled a knife on me.  I explained to the kids that she is an addict ( they had said she looked weird – kinda scary)  She was not properly dressed ( her underwear showing) so we had a brief talk about prostitution and addiction as we hurried off to “church”.  

 

As I tried to worship, I couldn’t stop thinking of her and how I had reacted inwardly toward her.  I felt very convicted about my heart response and felt I couldn’t just go and give out candy etc. without feeling like a total hypocrite.  I tried to push it aside and decided to stay and be a part of the intercession time.  During the beginning of the intercession, Hudson came over to me and asked if I would go with his group that was going to the trailer park to give out cookies.  He insisted that I come ( earlier he had insisted that I didn’t need me to come when I asked if he wanted me to go with him)  I asked Michelle W., but the van was full, so I told her I would take Hudson and meet them there. As we drove to the trailer park, I saw the same woman standing on the street.  I asked Hudson if he wanted to give his cookies to her and he said “ I think that would be the right thing to do.”  We turned around and I pulled over, got out, introduced myself and asked her if she was hungry.  She said yes and took the cookies.  I explained that I had seen her at the bank and that she looked hungry.  I asked her if she would like a real meal.  She said yes, but the cops are at McDonald’s so she didn’t want to go there.  I said I could get something for her and she said “Can we go through the drive thru?”  I didn’t know what to say, so I said “Yes”.  She got in the back of the car and I saw a guy watching us at the other side of the street, probably wondering what kind of weird transaction was going on.  I hoped he wasn’t an undercover cop! J  As I was driving to McDonald’s I talked with her and asked her if she knew about Jesus.  She said that she had grown up in Terrace, gone to a Christian school, got pregnant at 15, has a daughter who lives with her mother.  I asked her how she ended up on the street and she said that she had gotten into it with the father of her child, they thought they could handle it, got into trouble with dealers and now she lives on the street.  

 

After we had gotten her some lunch, I asked her how long it had been since she slept – she told me 3 days!  I said “That is very hard on your body”  She agreed and said it is very hard to sleep on the streets. ( I’m sure the drugs don’t help)  I asked her if she ever sees her mom.  She said that her mom lives in Rutland and she sees her when she can get up there.  I asked her if she wanted to go see her today.  She said she would like that.  She asked me if it was Sunday, and when I said yes, she said “She is probably at church, but I can wait outside until she gets home”  I asked her what church her mom attends and she said “KCC”.  I told her I would take her to Rutland and I picked up the other kids from the Laurel.  We then drove her up to the address she had given me.  As soon as the food started digesting, she could hardly stay awake.  She dropped her McFlurry on the floor while I was driving because she dozed off !  When we arrived, the mom wasn’t home and she went to the neighbor she said she knew and he agreed to let her wait there.  I introduced myself to him, he looked like a drug dealer!  As I walked away I wondered “Did I just drop her off at her pimps house?” Only God knows the truth!  I struggled with a lot of condemnation for a while after that – having lots of thoughts about how stupid that was!  The Lord then reminded me that I had done what I felt His Spirit leading me to do and that is all He asks of me.

 

After I stopped to madly clean the car and struggled with fear because Evan ( whom I had called to let him know where we were) had informed me that she probably has Hep C and I should wash my hands, I was driving home and Hudson made a comment about not wanting to sit where she had sat because her underwear was showing and she was dirty… I suddenly began to weep and realized that he had just innocently said what I was feeling.  I was feeling totally grossed out about her and fearful that I had touched her ( at one point some McFlurry had gotten on my hand and I had licked it off without thinking)  I realized that loving her was not in me – I didn’t want my world rocked, I just wanted to do a good deed.  Be her friend, put myself at risk?  No Way!  I had done what I felt Jesus leading me to do, but had been confronted with my GIANTS – fear, self-righteousness and condemnation.  

 

I wept as I realized that Jesus had left His holy, pure home and came to this dirty sinful place and he touched me – I am just like her – dirty, unclean, forsaken – but he didn’t just touch me – he gave his life for me!  Can I follow?  I desire to and I don’t.  Yet I know I can’t live without Him and I have to trust that He will give me the faith and grace for each step.

 

Rocked by His love,

Leanne Smailes

 

The lame, laughter and letting God do His work

A Christmas story from Bangkok Thailand: On Christmas Eve morning we (discipleship school students) joined the Bangkok Vineyard who hosted a party for all their family, colleagues and friends from the slum.  The venue was decorated beautifully, there was worship and dancing, plays and dances by the kids and youth group, a brief message (on what I don’t know as it was all in Thai), a delicious meal and Christmas presents for all.  Yau Ming, one of the Thai team, has spent years getting to know the elderly and physically disabled people in the slum.  Many of them came to the party, some we had to carry up the stairs in their wheelchairs.  At one point in the morning, people started praying for each other and we were told that the invitation was made for people to receive prayer for physical healing. Yau Ming asked Michelle Wesley if she would help him pray for this one lady who had a very badly injured leg and could only walk short distances with the help of a walker.  While praying for her leg, she said that she wanted to know Jesus!  After praying for her to receive Jesus, Michelle asked if she could give her a hug and tears began streaming down her face.  She turned to her friends and said, “I don’t know why I’m crying!”  It was so beautiful. At the same time, this one elderly lady began walking around the crowd, somewhat tentatively, while one of the Thai team followed her carrying her cane.  After one lap, I thought she would sit down, but then she did another lap, and another!  She had this big smile on her face as she could walk now without needing her cane! What a great Christmas story – the Good News was preached to the poor, the lame walked, and we all ate yummy Thai food.

 

Franz Wesley

Now that changes a visit to the Dentist

I have the privilege working in a dental office in Kelowna where a lot of the staff are believers.
As I was bringing one of our patients back into the dental operation room I noticed that  he was walking quite slow and sighing. This man was in his mid-forties and it was around ten o'clock in the morning, so I asked him why he was so tired. He answered in a Spanish accent that he had many problems. I inquired further and found out that he had cancer and was told that he had only a short time left to live. I seated him and relayed what he had told me to my boss, Dr. Dale Christophe who is a vibrant Christian man. After we had taken care of the man's sore tooth, Dale asked Fredrick if he was a spiritual man. He nodded "yes". Dale said that his assistant (me) and he were Christians and asked if we could pray for him. We both laid hands on him and Dale told the Gospel in a simple clear way. After the prayer the man and my boss had tears in their eyes. Frederick reached for a hug and Dale embraced him gently rocking him like a loving father comforts his child. It was a beautiful picture of Christ that I will forever remember in my heart.

Linda Clark

I met Jesus at Subway

This past week has been an amazing journey for me.  Several months ago I felt the Lord say “Let your heart be trained by the poor”.  I have been thinking about this and wondering what that looks like.  

This past Sunday I was kneeling in worship with my eyes closed when suddenly someone had their hands on my outstretched hands! Startled, I opened my eyes to see Caroline smiling into my face.  She grabbed my hands and pulled me up to dance. She hugged me and as she moved on to others, I was filled with mixed emotions – embarrassment, wonder, envy of her childlike exuberance.  It was definitely a worship experience I will not forget!  I realize I need the Mercy of God in my life! I knew my heart was not where I want it to be and I asked the Lord to teach me through the poor.                                                  

 

The next day I was leaving the post office when I had this thought to go and check in a kitchen store for a blender I am looking for.  I resisted the thought at first because I had a lot of errands to do, but I had a sense that I might miss out on something. ( Just a thought.. “I have something for you and you will miss it”)

The thought was so easily brushed away, but I decided to go to the store.  The blender wasn’t there – in fact they had no blenders.  “Oh well,” I thought, “no big loss – I guess it was just my thought.”  As I was returning to my car, a man was walking toward me with a bike and as he passed by he asked me for change saying that he was very hungry.  I told him that I would meet him at Subway and buy him a sandwich if he would like.  He agreed and said “Bless you” as he rode off towards Subway.  When I got there I decided to order a sandwich too so I asked him if I could join him. “Sure, if you want to.” he said.  We sat down with our sandwiches and he began to tell me about himself. He told me how he had chosen to remain homeless because he is able to help runaway kids. “They talk to me and when they ask me what I think they should do I tell them I think they should call their parents. I don’t preach at them he said, I just wait until they ask me. I wouldn’t give up helping kids for a house, what price can you put on a kid’s life?”   
What struck me during our conversation was how thankful and happy he was.  His face shone joy and his eyes twinkled. I asked him “When did you meet Jesus?”  He told me that he was “dunked and everything” 13 years ago, “but” he said “ I think it was when I became homeless that I met Jesus!”  We talked for 1 ½ hours, I asked him what a middle class mom with 4 kids can do to reach the poor.  He told me to pray and to let go!  “Don’t let the stuff you have control you.” he said. He was so full of grace for me – I expected him to give me an earful about how shallow I was. He blessed me to be a good parent and to care for my children. I asked him “How can I identify with the poor? I am not hungry like you are.”  He said that just because I was asking that question, I was beginning to identify.  “Just ask God to show you…keep your eyes open and listen to your gut.”  he said. When he said that he should be going and let me get to my children, I was sad that this encounter was ending.  He gave me a huge hug that was so fatherly and I felt so privileged to be walking out the door with him! 

 

Sandy Groening had heard Jesus tell her on that Sunday.. “ You see the poor, you see me.”  As I left Subway I knew I had seen Jesus more clearly and that my heart is beginning to be trained by the poor.

Leanne Smailes

 

Perspectives on Romania

Three weeks ago myself, Dustin Sargent (from our community) and Graham Ord traveled to Brasov, Romania for a week to visit Mark and Coreen Biech who have been missionaries to Romania for over 10 years now. Loralee and I have been involved with them since their first project in Navordari, on the Black Sea and currently we serve as Canadian Directors for the mission in Brasov under Hope For the Nations. We have traveled to Romania several times over the years and every time we go there we are impacted again by the sacrifice made by the Bieches and others like them who leave all they know to devote their lives to living the Kingdom in such places. I am forever impressed by the tenacity, skill and faith you need to work as a missionary. Not a job for the faint of heart for sure.

 

For me this time though, it had been over 5 years since my last trip there. I had almost forgotten what a culture shock it is to go travel from such an affluent city as Kelowna to such destitute surroundings that exist just outside Brasov in the gypsy villages and Romanian rural communities. The squalor that many of the Romanian people live in is truly impacting when you see it with your own eyes and smell it with your own nostrils (as opposed to seeing it on CNN or something). Once again I thought of that scriptures as it could be applied to ourselves living here in the west “..To who much has been given, much will be required.” Luke 12:48.

 

I had been looking forward to this trip for a long time. I was very excited about seeing some of the new projects first-hand and felt like it was important for me to go and be an encouragement to the Bieches etc. The biggest surprise on this trip, however came for me at the beginning of the week when found that suddenly I had these little wrestling matches going on with myself. (I am thinking, I am hoping, that some of you can relate to this?) I found myself thinking thoughts like “ I am tired this morning, can’t we just sit and enjoy another cappuccino?” and “It’s too hot, can we go back to the hotel now? I might step on a nail.” Or my favorite, “Oooh! This place stinks. Don’t these people know how to wash.”  All these little jabs, these little reminders that I am not Mr. Super-Christian. Gritty, tell-tale marks that I have not yet completely shed this skin and am still very much in need of God. It saddened and dismayed me at first. After a few mornings I felt it sort of lift off of me as the jet lag faded and I felt physically better, but the impression of my own weakness was still starkly imprinted in my consciousness. I found myself again seeking the grace of God and asking Him to replace my strength with His. Something we all need, whether we always fully understand that or not.

 

In one week we experienced so many things; We help deliver infants back to their gypsy mothers (some of them 13-15 years old) who had abandoned them weeks prior to the beleaguered Brasov hospital system. We delivered a vanload of groceries to some 20 or so families who live in desperate conditions in a tenement type building outside of the city, We took part in a Sunday school type program for about 120 gypsy children that turned into a dangerous near-riot when their parents showed up and demanded we give them food. Dustin and Graham spent time just holding some abandoned babies in the children’s wing of the hospital. We visited some beautiful families that had had home-makeovers done for them by teams from the West. We sang Karaoke in an Irish Pub (I did an old Monkee’s tune, ‘I’m a Believer’), We white-knuckled while Mark drove like a madman through Brasov’s ancient streets, we took pictures and we sipped some good coffee and some good European beer. Things that are all in a weeks work for the missionary to Romania; Things that takes perhaps months for the average person from here to digest.

 

Norm Strauss

 

Led to Jesus by the Poor…

As we gathered that morning as a community I had a sense that God wanted to do something with us.  Before we began to worship I encouraged our community to stand and raise our hands collectively in “surrender” to God’s purposes that day. To not life our hands in “anger and contempt” to each other as but as Paul instructed Timothy in a letting go and welcoming God heart posture…. In my heart I thought that day – Come Holy Spirit!

As we started worshipping a group of our friends, who are street people, were present with us and during the worship time one of them (part drunk, part fully alive and part Jesus incarnate) starting walking around giving everyone the hi – five or hugging them….. (It literally felt like Jesus walking among us connecting us to me)…. Even the most “conservative” among us couldn’t resist her embrace.  It was offense and welcoming all at the same time. Then when the songs picked up she went up front and started dancing. At first it was a “what to do now moment” then one person jumped in and joined her dancing, then another, and another… turned into a bit of a mosh pit…. And felt so right. At times this gal, Carolyn hugged people and cried, at times laughing…. It was all quite surreal…. And so MOVING… It was like a “HOLY” moment with some of the most unholy of people leading it.

 After the worship ended we asked if people wanted to respond and a few people came to share in the microphone --- including this gal (Carolyn) who was from the streets…. She told us how she loved us, how she lived on the streets and didn’t steal from anyone but collected bottles to feed herself…. She didn’t ask for much from us …. She just wanted to communicate love…… at one point she said…. Honestly I don’t and dropped the “F bomb” steal …..its been awhile since that word came through in a church gathering ----- 

After worship the topic that Franz and Robert were sharing on was about “being a missional community” …. After sharing for a bit they had pre – set people to read scriptures (about 15 of them) on the “poor and marginalized”.  As each one stood and read those scriptures a loud you could hear a pin drop (so poignant with all that happened)……  One could not have planned that so well as God did! 

Todd

 

Community and Baptism

Sometimes we forget our role as parents in taking the spiritual leadership in our families and in our community (church) with our children…So we thought we needed to remind ourselves of this privilege and step into it…. Evan and I felt to invite some of our community last Monday night to join us in baptizing Jennah our daughter…. We had a great turnout – lots of kids, my brother and his kids, Pat & Sandy & their girls, Paula & Helena, Lori and her kids, Erin & Owen & Louise were all there and my mom & dad.  The water was chilly and all the kids had been swimming before the baptism, so we tried to keep it short as we could see they were all chattering! What an amazing privilege to be able to baptize our own daughter! We prayed for her together and Jennah said that she felt encouraged by the words that were shared for her.

 

As Jennah’s parents we felt so blessed to have others who love Jennah gather around her to pray for her and share God’s heart with her, speaking His grace and life into her heart. We could see in fresh ways how important it is to have community around us to encourage us and our children in our walk of GRACE! It was so great to see so many kids witness her faith step with her and I hope it will encourage them in their journey.

 

Leanne Smailes.  

 

Why do I find I envy the poor?

Soon after we were done the school of discipleship Michelle Levy and I started heading down to the Gospel mission to hang out around the dinner meal and get to know the downtown poor. Michelle had originally gone with her friend Mike and I wanted to check it out. Basically we would just go down, grab ourselves a cup of tea and sit with a group of people and eat with them.  We wanted to see Jesus and we knew this was a good place to go. We met some very interesting folks. A portion of these people are homeless, some addicts, some working poor, some mentally ill. They are marginalized in society. The ones that don't get noticed. Often ignored or kicked out of places. The ones people often called "bums". These are my friends and I love them. I often still head down for meals, or I see people that I know at the library or on Leon or in the park and they greet me with much warmness.

The last couple of days have been feeling a strong envy towards them and the lives they lead. Is it their freedom?  Their freedom from money, power, success, and everything else our rat race society chases after? Is it their freedom of responsibility of a house a job, bills and such? What is it? After much contemplation I realize that I envy their community.  There is a strong connection between all of these people. They gather at the gospel mission, at the drop-in centre, in the park to enjoy the sun. They gather in camps under the stars. They live together, eat together, share everything amongst one another. Everyone knows everyone. And they care for one another. I have never met people so generous.  Giving me things when they have nothing. These ones aren't the poor ones. We are.  I have and continue to know that my life will be changed by these. Rich in spirit and willing to share any worldly wealth that they accumulate. Which isn't much.  Depending and supporting each other in love.  I feel as though they have given me more than I could ever give them. These are the ones Jesus walked amongst.  Our middle class society could learn much from them. I know I am.

 

Becca Devenish

Stepping into my faith

During my trip to Nepal and Thailand in March, God freed me from a lot of fear and self-consciousness, and greatly increased my confidence in him. Since then, I've become more and more pre-occupied with wanting to see people receive Jesus and have their lives unmistakably transformed by his power, right in front of us. (When you haven't seen it for a while, salvation can disappear from your expectation, even your vocabulary.) I've been hungry to have that "first time" where I help someone ask God for forgiveness and a new life in Jesus.

 

Now, I can't make this happen; that's God's job. But God has clarified what he wants me to do, and given me faith to do it. After talking with friends like Tim and Lance about their evangelism experiences, I'm very encouraged that talking to people about Jesus isn't nearly as complicated, scary, or culturally offensive as it may seem. Tim gave me some practical ideas for steering a conversation toward the gospel, with a simple sentence or two. A light went on for me: "If I can just get these words out of my mouth, and the other person doesn't put up a wall, I can then start talking about Jesus. That's worth trying."

 

I've been playing out various potential conversations in my head and it seems doable. So I've been praying, "God, please give me opportunities to try this out. Please let me tell people how my life with you works, how you sustain me day-to-day. And at some point, help me give them a clear invitation to receive your offer of a new life, something they can say 'Yes' or 'No' to." At this point, even hearing a decisive "No" would be encouraging.

 

During this last week, God has been answering our prayers. I visited Margaret, Edna and Charlie (former trailer park residents) and showed them pictures from my trips to Asia. I was able to say, "Some of these people were on the streets, addicted to alcohol or heroine, and Jesus healed them." It feels really good to give God some credit in the world-at-large.  Edna said she was surprised when we started coming to the trailer park. I said, "You know what, it's only because of Jesus; we wouldn't be doing this otherwise. It's not a normal thing to do. But Jesus' life was all about reaching out and breaking down walls between people." These phrases had been bouncing around my imaginary conversations, so it was great to say them in real life. 

 

On Saturday, God gave me faith to phone Margaret and invite her to our Sunday gathering. I pitched it as "come hear Sandy sing," because Margaret heard her at the park and the funeral. Margaret said, "If she's singing, I'd love to!" Margaret then invited Edna and Charlie. They all had a great time and want to come again. Thank you everyone who's been praying; keep going! Often people say yes to an invitation, but something comes up at the last minute and it doesn't happen. Often, on Saturday night, J.R. and Holly from the tent community will be intent on coming. But Sunday morning, suddenly they don't want to. It's a spiritual battle. You just have to pray and wait for God to change their minds. And praise God, that's what's happened two weeks in a row. Thanks everyone for welcoming them; they feel the love. They rave about church to their friends, and want to come every week. This summer, it will be four years that we've known J.R. and Holly. Their love for Jesus and their spiritual hunger has grown every year, partly through death and near-death experiences and also through our community.

 

I hope this encourages you. I know the trailer park and the tent community get a lot of "press", while there are many great things going on that don't receive the same attention. God has put each of us in different situations and responsibilities. I don't have many responsibilities, and I have great respect for everyone who takes on the hard-core stuff, like laying down your life for your spouse and children, or managing a business and providing jobs for people. I don't feel bad that I'm not doing these things. So please, don't think you have to live up to the newsletter. I want to see middle-class and rich people come to Jesus. I'm not reaching them right now, but maybe God has placed you there. I want your friends and family to receive the love of God. I want to support and encourage you in your situation. Talk to me or phone me (317-8078) and I will pray with you to see God's salvation come to those you love. 

 

This was supposed to be the preamble to a whole other story from Saturday night, but it has taken me hours of writing already, and I've held up the newsletter long enough (sorry Todd). =)  Hopefully I'll get it into next week's. I'll just say that the "first time" I was anticipating (in the first paragraph) has now happened. After all these years, it's actually happened. 

Robert Penner

 

Margaret, moving and being moved

 “It was a fun time yesterday moving Margaret to her very nice place. Franz led the group with SWAT-like tactical precision. Lou Lou did the negotiations backup by sharp shooter-movers flanking all sides of Kerry, Dave Ward and his sons Caleb and Hayden, Dean and his sons Jared and Ethan, and Donovan (who was late due to his phobia of heavy objects). Maryanne had to eventually rappel in through one of Margaret's windows shattering it to pieces. Later in the day, Sandy came by with her post-trauma unit consisting of her daughter Julia, roasted chicken, salads and pictures drawn during the intercession time by Julia, Jessica and Rachel. Margaret was thrilled and will be putting the pictures up next to her favorite pictures.

Margaret's brother and sister-in-law were also helping. Once the stuff was all moved, her brother teared up as he expressed his appreciation for all the support we have been to Margaret this last year. He then asked where our church building was located and an awkward silence and explanation followed. He also expressed his concern for the transition Margaret is going through. We will need to find new ways to connect with Margaret in this next phase of her life. She has been uprooted from a community she lived in for over 25 years. She has lost her cats. She has lost her place to serve. Perhaps she can find a place with us so she can continue to give her heart to others. As a start, and it usually starts with food, Sandy is going to do a soup swap with her.” …

Donovan H

Pink elephants in the middle of Zebras

During the last couple of months I have been trying to make it a regular event to spend time at the Gospel Mission. A friend of mine first introduced me to the place, when I kind of landed up there "accidentally" for dinner. Since then I've come to recognize some faces and it now gets a little easier to feel sort of comfortable around everyone. However, I wanted to blend in, to be a part of life there, but I felt as though I stood out like a pink elephant in the midst of zebras. This bugged me. I've had comments such as "Are you a social worker?" "... A nurse?.." "You don't look like the regular clients here.." I try to hide my frustration as I sip my lentil soup. "I'm just here to hang out." Really, it's true! It's not that easy though. For a while I wasn't sure what to bring to these people. So sometimes I would go and sit, listen to a story or two, and try not to send off too much of a "positive glow". Walking out of the mission, I would feel... tired. I could tell I was sharing in a part of their lives. Many filled with hopelessness, bitterness and not much strength to carry on through the day. Okay God, so am I just supposed to copy their behavior so that I won't be too noticeable, they'll think I'm "one of them" and maybe not label me ..?? There's got to be more to it than this. Surely when it says we are to "shine like stars..." it meant something a little different. As Dallas Willard puts it, He gives us "a certain radiance". Well it's not about being fake, or slapping on your Christian face after brushing your teeth. No, it's got to be something that comes from within, maybe something that we can't even control. It just sort of happens naturally as we share in the lives of those who maybe haven't found their place to shine. I can't tell you what it is, well gee I'm still trying to find it, but maybe I just have to stop putting it under a bushel. Perhaps as we learn to BE light, we'll find ways to call out the other stars who are hiding behind unidentified clouds. We've found something, a hope that we are to share with the world. I pray that God would show us how to do that.  Ephesians 5:8 For once you were filled with darkness but now you have light from the Lord. So live as people of light!!

 

Michelle Levy

 

 

Vader, vexed and the vulnerable

This last week I visited a friend of our church's in the hospital.  He normally lives in the trailer park but in the last year he has spent a lot in time in hospital.  He was in a particularly bad way this last visit having pneumonia in both his lungs.  He was also stressed out because his bills needed to be paid and he was having to rely on what is becoming a smaller network of people to help him.  Between gasps of air, coughing episodes that left him red, and through a "Darth Vader"-like mask he had to wear to breathe, we clumsily worked through his concerns making phone calls and a plan.

  I had never seen him like this and it troubled me.  Not wanting to embarrass him, or more myself, I asked him if I could pray quietly for him.

To my surprise, I held his hand (so much for not embarrassing him).  In my prayer, I asked Jesus to be with my friend, to give him rest, to heal him.

What startled me was how I asked.  This person's situation had gotten inside me and I cared beyond what I had budgeted for.  I was holding back tears as I cried to God to meet my friend.  I was exposed to a certain agony that was full of the presence of God.

  Driving home, I was thinking that if someone were to have told me two years ago that I would be in a hospital, holding a man's hand that I had met in a trailer park, and praying as if he were my daughter just struck by a car, I would have probably tried to map out in my mind the steps to get there and become depressed by the hopelessness of where my heart was at.

What a difference a trailer park makes.

  The next day our friend called.  He sounded much better.  He thanked us for all we do for him and he expressed his love for us.  He loves our church.  He considers us his church.  He has only been once.

 

Donovan

What can you buy with $2 these days?

Myself, Megan, Hannah Smailes, and Ellie went to a coin-op Laundromat in the Mission on Sunday to help people with laundry and give quarters for the machines.  This act of kindness and generosity, requiring risk and overcoming awkwardness, led to some neat God-moments for us. We first helped a single mom fold her laundry.  Having broken down barriers of independence so prevalent in our culture,  her response was to express a need and ask for some help baby-sitting.  Ellie made herself available, and the mom was genuinely thankful.

We also met a middle-aged French-Canadian man named Ben, a lonely orchard-worker doing his laundry. I was able to speak French with him, and for the cost of the $2.00 to dry his clothes the girls were able to express God's heart to him. When they offered to pay for his laundry he said he had the money, and they simply said that it was a gift to him.  This led to a 30-minute conversation and when they said good-bye, they both expressed how nice it was to have met each other.  Suspecting that God was doing more, I and the girls asked if we could pray for him.  He said "okay" and with a simple prayer, tears began streaming down his face, and he said with deep emotion in both English and French, "you've touched my heart."This again surprised and reminded us of how God can turn a simple, yet bold act – offering to pay for people's laundry – into a Kingdom encounter.  Ben encountered the Good News of God's love and heart for him.

Michelle Wesley

What would Jesus do? (WWJD)

On Monday this week Robert, Franz and I headed over to the Trailer Park to see if they were interested in us holding one last community get together with them before they all are moved out… (plus bring back those who have left)…. We suggested that we hold a music fest/BBQ where a number of people from our community play and sing and then we have a BBQ together --- Boy were those there excited to hear that…. THEY LOVE MUSIC and FOOD.

We had a chance to share with a number of people and also discovered that Kenny has moved out of his trailer now.  His Trailer and the one beside it have become “crack houses”.   The back of the pickup truck we emptied in front of his trailer at the last serving Sunday there is already full and about 5 shopping carts full of stuff sit around his empty trailer with homeless people sleeping everywhere.  As we were there talking to Shane, who we have met before, two very high end vehicles with well dressed and groomed drivers pulled up next door and went in to buy their crack cocaine – amazing how addiction brings social classes together and erases the line between who appears broken and who does not.

Shane allowed us to pray for him and so there we stood in the middle of a drug deal, in the middle of a place being taken over by squatters asking Jesus to come to Shane’s heart and change him… He was so receptive to prayer and we were so honored to be there…. Shane has only been on the streets for 8 months after having lost his family and regular job.  He fell off the bottom rung and is scrambling to get his life back.   It felt like that was the answer to the question in that moment  WWJD…. (What would Jesus Do)…

Todd Rutkowski