God is good all the time...

It's Monday morning. I almost always need a little more time to wake up, a little more coffee in my cup and few seconds to get my brain around the start of a new work week. This morning was no different as far as the time and the coffee go, but my brain can not be swayed from it's current trail of thought. I went to bed thinking about God's goodness and I woke up in the same thought, as if I'd laid it on my pillow when I drifted off to sleep and picked it up as soon as my eyes opened. 

It's not that I ever consciously doubt God's goodness. I'm not that bold. But I'm sure I doubt it when I worry about something, or when I hold tight, stifling those things in life that are meant to grow and move and change. In those moments of held control, I doubt that God can handle my fears or that there could be more for me around the corner of the place I sit so comfortably. That kind of doubt seems to be a constant struggle for me. And here's the thing, whenever I get there, my purchased plot at the bottom of despair, God shines a light of goodness so bright, I have very little choice but to follow it, leaving behind my sorrow and moving into the promise that is His love. And the funny part is that His goodness never quite shows up the way I think it would, and never the way I plot that it should in my limited imagination.

Such was the case this weekend. Friday night, I couldn't shake a feeling of unrest. Something just felt off or sad and I couldn't seem to find the contentment I was seeking. I prayed myself to sleep and in that subconscious state of prayer that mingles with sleep and has you saying all kinds of crazy things to God, Wesley Sanders popped into my brain. And for some reason I figured that I had to go visit Wesley and that thought seemed almost like a solution, an answer to my sleepy prayers.

Wesley is the man that Ryan blogged about a few weeks ago, the man on our video. Wesley is one of the few folks I've met at ENCM that I've developed a true friendship with. Wesley has been in a rehab program for alcoholism for the last 2 months. I haven't visited him. I've had every intention of doing it. I've even printed out a picture to bring to him for his room. But what is that saying about good intentions?

Saturday morning I woke up with no memory of my prayer the night before (these are the downfalls of praying yourself to sleep). I didn't go to see Wesley. That night, the same kind of restlessness, sadness in my prayers and the same kind of solution. Wesley popped into my brain again and I thought I had to go see him. I knew Sunday would prove impossible, but I made a point to be awake enough in my brain to make a promise to myself or maybe to God to go see Wesley on Monday. 

I had a full day planned on Sunday. Aside from the normal church service I attend at 9, and the 1pm Emmaus service, I had a baby shower to help host and the new Emmaus service/meal at 5:30. After morning church, I  went to lunch with a friend I hadn't seen in so long and headed back for the last 1pm Emmaus service.

I was late and in a rush. When I got to the church, I walked in and was stopped, mid-stride. I blinked. The man standing with Ryan looked a lot like Wesley Sanders, but so different too. The man standing next to Ryan was clean shaven with tightly cropped hair. He had glasses. His clothes were clean, almost crisp on his slimmer body. He looked clean and bright-eyed. This was Wesley, but the truest version of the man I know. This was the real Wesley that I caught redemptive glances of on a random sober encounter with him. This was the Wesley I knew, yet the Wesley I had yet to meet. 

He hugged me. I was so genuinely excited to see him. I looked him over once, twice. I almost made him turn for me to really see him. I told him I was so proud of him, standing in front of me. I told him I was sorry for not visiting him. He told me that he had come by various places a time or two, trying to find me, to see me, to show me that he was gone but not for good, and that he was getting better. I hugged him. 

We walked together into the service and sat next to each other. I couldn't believe he was there. In my prayers last night, right next to me today. At Emmaus Fellowship we are diligent about our prayer time. We make sure that we take time to allow the congregation to pray aloud for our ministry, for our communities, for our families and for ourselves. When we got to the part where we pray for our communities, for each other, Wesley grabbed my hand in both of his hands and he prayed for me. Wesley Sanders prayed for me. He prayed that God would be with "his little friend." The trail of tears started to pour from my face. In that moment I realized something. Going to see Wesley wasn't the answer to my prayer, my restlessness, my sadness. My seeing him, bringing him encouragement wasn't something I had to do. I needed Wesley Sanders to pray for me. This time, he was there to offer hope, redemption and grace to me. 

In that moment, being prayed over by a man that under other circumstances may not even have been my friend I knew God's goodness in an all new way. The give and TAKE of a relationship made me realize that I am receiving as much as I am giving in all of this. 

Wesley Sanders is praying for me. God is good all the time, all the time God is good.

My friend Ed

It's been a couple weeks since I've blogged. Needless to say, it's not for lack of content, but time that I've not been as quick to tell you of things going on at ENCM. Thankfully though, Ryan was able to give you all an update on our friend Wesley. One of the most amazing things about any relationship is to watch how people grow and change. It's no different at ENCM. To see our friends, and ourselves, change and grow has an eternal effect.

It's in that same vein that I give you a report on my friend Ed Clark. I met Ed at our Emmaus Fellowship service on Sunday mornings. He's one of the sweetest guys I know and and he's one of the most consistent members of our little rag-tag congregation. A few weeks ago, Ed agreed to sing in one of our Sunday morning services. I had no idea what to expect. Ed picked up a borrowed guitar, pulled out a sheet of lyrics he'd been working on and proceeded to sing a song he wrote about getting High on the Holy Ghost. The words seemed all too personal and spoke of addiction and a marginalized life. Then, right in the middle of the song the bridge opened up and Ed began singing the names of God. He knows more of the names of God than I do and he sang them out with the same confidence of a small child calling out for the safety and affirmation of a parent. It was one of the most beautiful things. I just couldn't get over how good he was. And the rest of the congregants were cheering him on and clapping. The song was about redemption. And about praising the God who can save you from the most desperate of situations, and then about recognizing Him when he does.

A few days later I saw Ed in our Wednesday evening college and young adult service at NFCN where I attend church. He started coming pretty regularly on Wednesday evenings. This particular Wednesday he pulled me aside and told me that he had something to show me. He proceeded to pull out a certificate of completion for a career counseling program he went to at the Salvation Army. He told me it's a program that will help him with job training, and essentially teach him how to keep a job and hopefully, eventually, help him find a job that suites his new and improved resume. He was so proud of himself. And I was proud of him.

I remembered that one Wednesday morning over coffee, Ed had told me that he struggled with alcoholism and that he had tried and failed a number of times in different rehab facilities. He also told me that he hadn't been drinking lately because he'd been in God's word. And now, here's a certificate of completion. Completion... He started and finished the program. He saw it through until the end without alcohol getting in the way. 

So, a certificate from the Salvation Army isn't the most quantifiable of ways to show the effects that ENCM is having on the community, but it means a lot to Ed and it means a lot to me to be able to see the process of redemption in him. And in it all, God is changing me too. I come thinking I have some measure of help to offer Ed, and I do, but I leave realizing that he has so much to offer me as well, that God uses him in my life to teach me about love and redemption as much as he uses me in Ed's life to cheer him on and offer a consistent friendship with someone who believes in his worth.

Grace & peace, 

Melissa

Wesley's Eyes

Somewhere along the line Christians got it wrong (sort of). Many are uncomfortable with the ol’ adage “to accept God into your heart” for arguably good reason. I am less concerned with whether there is a theological battle to be fought than just generally convinced of its physiological inaccuracy. Here’s what I mean: We've missed that God lives in our eyes! I witnessed it the other day.

I saw him today for the first time in at least a month. One of my good friends, Wesley, has been in recovery, and I’ve missed him like you miss a high school friend that got a great scholarship to go to college…on the other side of the country. I thought I missed his bellowing laugh the most—yeah, the one that defies typical barriers like walls, windows, and distance. From up to a 100 meters Wesley's laugh reaches you with that curious combination of hilarity and nuisance. I thought perhaps I missed his stories the most—yeah, the endless stories of navigating the streets after dark, avoiding weapons, embracing liquor, and losing even the memory of comfortable sleep. I thought I missed his hand shake I received every morning before we would sit and share pre-ground, flavorless coffee—yeah, the size and texture of those hands confirmed his barely-believable stories of a hard life on the farm. But it was none of these as much as it was his eyes that I missed.

When I saw him the other day I realized I missed his eyes because in those charcoal, almost purple pearls, I saw Wesley’s whole life—the one he lived and the unveiling of the one to come. In his eyes, he was an honest friend, broken by the streets, cursed by his addictions. In his eyes, the hardship of age and insecurity met with youth. [You know, if you look into someone’s eyes with enough intention, at any age, they become an innocent child, as if their bodies lost the fight of time but their eyes somehow succeeded. Perhaps it’s God’s presence there that preserves our last ounce of innocence and love, even after our bodies have surrendered to this world.] But above everything, when I looked into my friends eyes, I saw God dawning a new day. They spoke of sobriety and hope. They told his story of renewed confidence and self-respect. And they shouted of grace.

For the first time Welsey saw an optometrist. “I didn’t know how bad my sight was,” he told me, “Now I can actually see!” God is in those old eyes, and I was lucky enough to be a witness the other day—even behind those thick-rimmed glasses.

-Ryan

One Love...

So this weekend was a crazy one for me. Crazy in that moments to myself came few and far between and crazy because, once again, I was taken by surprise on a simple, ordinary day.

This weekend Ryan and I were asked to join the WELCA (Women of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America) group at Memorial Lutheran church for lunch and an ENCM presentation. When I arrived, my friend Judy introduced me to some great women, most of whom seemed to be senior citizens (though not all). Ryan showed the video and gave a great presentation, helping the women to connect with the stories of Wesley and Robert. After that, I talked a bit about my perspective then sang a few worship songs.

BUT, my favorite part of the day was when my friend Julie led the group in singing. She sang before Ryan did his presentation. She sang a couple of her own songs, to which she printed out lyrics and had the group sing along. THEN, the best thing happened! Her last song was Bob Marley's song One Love. She had lyrics for the group to sing along on the chorus. You should have seen it. A group of women, most of them senior citizens, and I think almost all of them where Caucasian, and they were all singing, rather loudly, One Love by Bob Marley. The words "Let's get together and feel alright, give thanks and praise to the Lord and I will feel alright" rang out of the church like a clear bell of redemption. After the initial shock of the moment wore off, I couldn't help but to sing along. 

Can you imagine if we really were able to begin to blur some of these divisions that separate our human race? Can you imagine what it would look like if we came to a table where our only expectation was to be open to genuine relationship with whoever showed up at the same table. I can't even grasp it, but I think a bunch of senior citizen, white women singing Bob Marley is a GREAT place to start...

"Give thanks and praise to the Lord..."

Grace & Peace, 

Melissa

Welcome to My Orange Sky

It was Wednesday morning, 7:30 AM and I was racing through downtown traffic in the nearly metropolitan city of Nashville, TN. I don't normally have anywhere important to be so early in the morning, but Wednesday mornings have taken on new meaning for me. Last week was the first Wednesday that my friends Ryan, Nick and I started opening up the doors at ENCM at 7am to serve coffee and pastries in the neighborhood of East Nashville and I was running late on this 2nd Wednesday morning.

But, let me back up, because if you aren't around me on a regular basis, you may have no idea what ENCM is. East Nashville Cooperative Ministry is a small, barely noticeable ministry in East Nashville, set up to be sort of a hub for all the local churches in East Nashville to come together to make a difference in their local community. As it stands now, we spend a lot of time dreaming up ideas on how to fight the ever growing problem of food insecurity in the area. There are a lot of homeless and working poor families that have little to no means of providing good, healthy food for themselves and their families. 

Last year, around about spring time, I started helping out at the co-op, as it is affectionately called. The more time I spent with Ryan the director (and previously mentioned friend), I began to capture the relational basis for this particular ministry and I became enthusiastic, to say the least, at helping. Eventually, as the year progressed, I started helping with their marketing, then was voted on to the board, joined the events team...and, well, you get the idea. 

So back to Wednesday. When I arrived at the co-op, Ryan already had our donated beans ground and brewing in our donated coffee pots with our donated mugs set out. We are extremely reliant on the good nature of those around us. I had no real expectations for this Wednesday gathering. In fact, the previous Wednesday, our first attempt at this free, make-shift coffee house, we only had one guy from the neighborhood come for coffee, but I didn't care. I could feel the potential for relationship brewing right along side the good coffee. I knew that if I came and created space to get to know the neighbors, and free coffee, people would come. It's these attempts at relationships that keeps me coming back to the co-op. We're learning that broken relationships are as big of a contributor to poverty as a lack of money. People need friends. They need people to tell them that they are valued and that their stories are worth the telling.

Nick shuffled through the door right after me, and we sat and drank coffee. Eventually, Ray Ray (our first week patron) came in along with a man who called himself cowboy. They sat and shared coffee and pastries with us as we talked, asked questions and laughed. A little later a man named Sam came in. He sat, seeming a bit dazed. He's new to the streets of Nashville. He's 30, same age as me, and is here to be with family. As we talked I learned he's from Colorado originally. He's soft spoken and has a handsome face, all be-it a bit worn. He seemed more comforted as the easy conversation continued. 8:45 came all too soon and it was time to pack up. Our other guests left, but Sam followed me into the kitchen. As I began to wash the dishes from the morning, he grabbed a towel and offered to dry them. I accepted the help, thinking it may be his attempt at pro-longing the conversation, the sense of belonging. As the dishes were done, I realized I was late to work and had to leave rather quickly. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I noticed that Sam had moved on from drying dishes to mopping the floor, moving his conversation from me to Ryan. I couldn't help but wonder if he was trying to stay as long as he could, and I hoped it was because he felt like he was making friends. 

My heart was warmed as I drove away. My expectations had been exceeded. Once again, God used something as insignificant as donated coffee and time to remind me that he loves all of his creation and that if we can wait a second, make a little room in our lives, he will show his face through our relationships with others. And when we are brave enough to make friends with people that are different from us, we see him all the more. 

Alexi Murdoch has a song called Orange Sky. We used it for a documentary that we filmed for the co-op. The words are, "I had a dream that I stood beneath an orange sky, with my brother and my sister standing by." This blog is a place for me to share the amazing things that God is doing beneath my orange sky in a small neighborhood here in Nashville. The stories are simple and all-together plain. And that's what will make them wonderful. So, feel free to read and share. 

Grace and peace,

Melis