Author: Christ's Children Ministries

Wow! This really happened…

Lisa and I have been ministering in the urban neighborhoods of Minneapolis for forty years.  Seven years at Park Avenue Church and thirty-three years with Christ’s Children. That’s a long time.  40 years…that’s a generation! By God’s grace we have been here long enough to have influenced an entire generation of people for Christ. We’ve cultivated relationships with families that have extended across three generations of people… in some cases four. We’ve witnessed the breaking of cycles of intergenerational poverty and dysfunction. Generational change is a critical factor in the spiritual development of a people. Our work here has facilitated the engendering and passing on of Christian faith, values and tradition, among those who don’t have a church.

When I first came to Park Avenue Dr. Hinerman had been there for forty years. I was in awe of this man of God who had served in one place for that long. At age 25 it was a number I could hardly comprehend or envision. I knew right then that I wanted to emulate his example. That’s when we began our ministry to create Christian community among unchurched children and families in our urban neighborhood.

40 years of pouring our lives into young people, cheering them on and encouraging them. Trying to instill the self-knowledge of who they are in Christ to enable them to survive and thrive in the inner city. They did not all thrive, but every life we encountered did experience Christ and God’s love. They did not all survive… we watched many lose their lives to the dysfunction of urban poverty: gang violence, social emasculation, family dysfunction. But we watched more become transformed as they embraced their identity in Christ, overcoming the obstacles before them to become young men of substance and leaders in their communities; transforming them as teachers and school administrators, youth workers, small businessmen, laborers and white collar workers, policemen and workers in the criminal justice system. I consider that their greatest influence has been in starting their own families, becoming husbands and fathers… raising their children with the earnest desire to give them a better beginning in life than they had.

40 years of working with neighborhood institutions… working alongside churches, local schools, neighborhood parks, community centers and youth serving institutions. We forsook the traditional model of building our own physical place in order to weave a network of collaboration and establish an authentic presence in the neighborhood. We went everywhere… the street corners and bus stops, the park gyms and fields, school classrooms, courthouses and prisons, hospital rooms and shelters…, always bringing the fragrance of Christ with us.

40 years of building a home here… It was always our intention to be incarnational in our ministry, sharing the dynamics of living in the inner city by living alongside our parishioners. We raised our family and watched our children grow up here. We endured the risks and trials of living here alongside our neighbors. God has provided for us and protected us through neighborhood turmoil and gangs, crime and drug trafficking. We’ve lived through and witnessed neighborhood riots and protests… and witnessed change, often for the better. 

Lisa has spent 40 years of offering a mother’s nurture to many in the neighborhood… offering Christ’s hospitality to the least of these in the form of sustenance, comfort, counsel, a hug, or a listening ear.  40 years of working behind the scenes, her labors of love seen by God alone. She is known as the “minister of the alley”, because of her benevolent attention up and down the block. 40 years of being my partner, laboring in these urban fields, raising a sacred harvest. Without her I could not have negotiated this urban wilderness.

40 years of depending on God… 33 years ago when we started Christ’s Children the idea of raising our own support was an alien one. We had no idea if it was viable. But we took a step of faith and thirty-three years later here we are. Although we’ve had to endure financial scarcity we’ve always enjoyed Christ’s abundance. We can testify along with David, that we have been young and now are old; but we’ve never been forsaken, nor our children begging for bread (Psalm 37.5). We are so thankful for the support you’ve given us through your gifts, prayers and your friendship. When secular institutions avoided us because of our name you filled the gap in funding with your “widow’s mites” and generous gifts. You have made our lives richer than we could have imagined. None of this happens apart from y’all.

So yeah, this happened. I have to testify… After forty years all I feel is gratitude to the Lord for allowing us to do this. Praise be to God for blessing my family and allowing us to have this life! I want to bear witness to the fact that this happened. God planted us here and allowed us to do a tremendous work. Our work here has changed hearts, changed lives, changed families… changed this community. Individual lives are different, families are different, the community is different, because we were here. I’m not bragging on us… I have to testify to God’s glory. People told me it wouldn’t work. Family and friends were shocked and worried, colleagues shook their heads. At one point I was forsaken by the organized church and I was called to step out on my own to pursue God’s call on my life. Like Abraham we were asked to take a leap of faith and follow, not knowing what would happen. Our fledgling ministry took hold and after a few years I looked back and others were following in our footsteps, starting their own viable ministries in the community. We did not always have what we wanted but we always had what we needed. God provided in spite of the odds and in spite of what common sense dictated.

I’ve endured threats of all kinds… breaking up gang fights, individual disputes and community conflagrations. I’ve stood by families as they watched their homes burn down, we’ve seen cars burning on the block, endured random shooting, all right in front of our house. I’ve been robbed, beat up, threatened at gunpoint and knife point, and chased. I’ve been reviled, cursed, harassed… by police, white supremacists and gangbangers. But we’ve also been embraced, protected, cherished, loved, listened to and respected. I can’t think of anyone who has had a more fulfilling life and career than we have. We’ve watched estranged and abandoned children grow into adulthood and lead productive, fulfilling lives. We’ve watched single moms endure tremendous struggles to give their children a chance at life. We’ve watched families change from generation to generation, breaking cycles of poverty. We’ve watched kids grow up in our ministry and take on the mantle of providing spiritual leadership in their community as adults. Yes, this did happen. Christ’s Children happened. God did it. We saw it. This has been God’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes (Psalm 118.23). 

Although Lisa and I will have a diminished role going forward Christ’s Children as an entity still exists. We will no longer do structured programs, or depend on the ministry for our livelihood, but will continue to minister through our relationships, advocacy and helps. Our families often come to us for aid for housing, food, school support, etc. so if you feel so led you can still make tax deductible contributions.

Please join us on September 12 from 3-5pm at Park Avenue Church for our event, “Celebrating 40 years of ministry”.

 Over our many years in ministry, I have had a front row seat to observe just how hard life can be for our families—many struggle with generational and systemic wounds that they are born into and contend with in big and small ways throughout their lives. That is why we are so very delighted to celebrate with them every joy and achievement…moving to a better home, graduations, new jobs, babies…each situation is a cause for celebration and recognizing God’s faithfulness. 

     This spring we were able to celebrate high school graduation with a young man whose family spent much of the winter in fear because of the Operation Metro Surge occupation. In spite of the fears and burdens this caused, our young senior kept up with his high school studies, his internship, working with Chris on many college applications and his PSEO classes. We celebrate all his hard work and careful decision making and his plans to enroll at the University of Minnesota in the fall.

     We celebrated the graduation in four years of our young man at the University of St. Thomas. He managed to hold down both part time work and school and complete his studies. When it came time for the grad ceremony, Chris was the honored person who received the extra ticket to the graduation outside his nuclear family. Over the years, we have loved and served lots of young people, lots of families and we never take for granted when our love is appreciated and recognized. What a joy it was to join with this family and their celebration of this young man’s achievement. We celebrate this young man, his steady and faithful attitude, and the way he has made thoughtful choices and shown a maturity beyond his years…something I noticed about him the very first time he sat with a group of boys eating breakfast at my kitchen table so many years ago.

     A request came in for me to make cookies to celebrate an eighth grade completion as well. So one hot night, in our house that does not have central air, I broke my “no baking in hot weather” rule and knocked out dozens of cookies—half for the honoree and half for all her family so she got some without having to share. I celebrate that I am the extra grandma, the auntie, the shoulder to cry on in the lives of lots of younger people.

     Underneath all these things, runs the current of God’s love, the bonds of love and community that have been planted, watered and tended as Jesus has been lifted up here in the city of Minneapolis.  God has been faithful to us. God has been faithful to help us carry out the call placed upon our lives. We continue to walk among our people—reminding them that they are God’s children and that, in a world that is so often cruel to the least of these, that, to Jesus they are priceless and loved. We remind them that though this world may not be FOR them, Jesus is always FOR THEM and WITH them in all things. We celebrate the faithfulness of God and pray that God would continue to make a way forward for our people giving them lives of hope and purpose, joy and goodness.

It’s hard to describe what life has been like in our neighborhood during these past two months. I’d like to try though… the ground level perspective of someone who lives here.

I haven’t seen or experienced this level of stress and turmoil in the community since the George Floyd protests. If you can imagine… being woken up frequently from your slumber by what begins as warning whistles shrilling through the air, which is soon accompanied by car horns and angry shouts, an escalating cacophony of indignation, anger and protest. Then you know ICE has come to your neighborhood. It soon becomes an overwhelming torrent of noise as you look out through your window and see cars backed up in the street and crowds… no, mobs of people milling into the street intersection. And to increase your bewilderment you see patrols of uniformed and armed men patrolling the street in front of your house… weapons cocked and ready (last time I saw a scene like this I was in the slums of a developing country). A trio of SUV’s with tinted windows pull up in front of our house and more ICE agents pile out. People whip out their cell phones, recording everything. Outraged residents are shouting protests, some of them hurling invectives, often approaching ICE vehicles and taunting them. This is all provoked by ICE vehicles being posted in the street, outside neighborhood institutions like schools, libraries or churches, waiting for targeted victims to enter or exit. Either that or they are following cars down public streets, and executing dangerous maneuvers on public roads in order to trap someone. For four weeks this was a regular occurrence. And it was in the midst of situations like these that two American citizens were shot and killed, others wounded or brutalized, and many detained.

How does this “ICE Surge” affect our ministry? Lisa and I agreed on what our response should be. To continue to reach out to and minister among the poor and oppressed, and to help our neighbors and those within our sphere of influence in material ways. To not be overcome by the evil of fear and injustice, but to instead overcome evil with good (Romans 12.21).

That means continuing to stay in touch with our families and the youth we have relationships with. We continue to pastor, mentor, comfort, counsel, and pray with our people. For me it was important to do these things, but you wouldn’t see me outside in the protesting crowds. As a Black man I can appreciate the righteous indignation that people feel, but at the same time wonder, “Where were you when…?” You see, black people, particularly in our urban communities, have been subject to unjust laws, overzealous and brutal law enforcement, and unfair treatment for hundreds of years. This treatment, this kind of stress, is not new to us. This is just regular life for us. And so for most of our parishioners all of this is just more of the same. I connect with people, make sure they are safe, make sure they have what they need, provide counsel… but I stay in the background. Because someone like me knows from experience that it takes little provocation for an armed law official to shoot someone like me.

Many of our neighbors are those who have become afraid to go outside. Families are constrained from regular, necessary activities like going to and from work, grocery shopping, taking their kids to school, or picking them up. We’ve seen that little children have become fair game and used as pawns to entrap people. This is not a debate of right and wrong, this is a description of what is literally happening.

So Lisa, the minister of the alley… She has been a constant presence in our community for those who are suffering and oppressed by these goings on. She visits people, runs errands for necessary needs, provides transportation and ushers the Lord’s presence among those who feel abandoned and forsaken. She bakes treats and brings food to our neighbors, she cultivates new relationships and she makes people feel connected. She participates in the neighborhood watch network and has participated in community protests and vigils. She has been an outstanding presence for the Lord in all this.

This movement…, this righteous indignation towards the unjust use of power…, these protests…, have been a wonder to behold. Minnesota has caught the nation’s eyes and heart once again by its courageous response to unfettered authority. Its success is remarkable, but we must remember that the groundwork for this success was laid by the organizers and participants of the George Floyd protests five years ago. Just as that movement was following in the footsteps of the civil rights movement. As we move forward I am filled with hope that we are finally learning as a society that what affects one of us, affects all of us. To quote Dr. King:

 “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”

– from Letter from Birmingham Jail

May the Lord guide us as we realize we are all in this together.

And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High, for you will go before the Lord to prepare his way, to give his people knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace. LUKE 1:76-79

     Advent is our season of waiting. It is the season where we pause to notice our longing, our yearning for the light as we wait for the coming of Jesus.  Some days this month I have been out walking the streets and green spaces of our neighborhood before the sun rises–on days when the light is obscured by the thick grey of winter clouds and others where the sun paints pastel streaks of color across the sky. When I walk early, I am often charmed by the sweetly respectful greetings of the teens from our Mexican immigrant neighborhood families. I notice the many Somali heritage transport drivers dropping off their fares at one of the special schools I pass. I see the immigrant heritage bus drivers as they maneuver their vehicles on tricky snowy streets taking MInneapolis children to their schools. I bless each one I see with the love of God alive for them. I sometimes wonder what each of them is hoping for, waiting for, in these dark days as we approach the winter solstice.

     Waiting is such a big part of our lives…standing on line in the grocery store, on hold with the insurance company or clinic scheduler, waiting for test results or diagnoses, waiting for grownup children to come home for a Christmas visit. I think of how, when we moved into our current home twenty-six years ago, I wondered and wished if the floors under the tatty carpet might be restored. But, there were always many more important things our little income could be spent on. So last year, when there was finally a margin, the wood floors were restored-not perfectly, but reflecting all the life that has been lived in the one hundred and fifteen year life of our house. And every day when I come down the stairs, I have a little thrill of joy at seeing those oak boards. So, sometimes, our waiting makes us appreciate and enjoy. Some of our waiting makes us impatient or flustered, some filled with anticipation. Many of the things we wait for, if we ponder, reveal to us our deepest longings, our deepest yearnings. During advent, I often meditate on Mary’s Song, on Zechariah’s Song and this year, especially, on the Holy family’s escape to Egypt and the tears of the mothers whose children were butchered as a prideful despot sought to destroy the King he was afraid of…as Jeremiah prophesied, ‘a voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted…’

     I find so many things from those days of Jesus, so true and pertinent in our own day when small men with small hearts still seek to inflate their own egos and power, when children and their families cower in fear, when refugees seek safety and solace, when mothers weep. I hold on to the song of Mary and her prophecy…”He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but he has sent the rich away empty.” How true these words about the hungry being filled with good things have been proven true in my presence in the past weeks. I think of the shop worker at my local tortilleria who unlocked her door to sell me warm and delicious tortillas that filled my car with their delicious fragrance. I think of the event where I was generously offered food by Latina women who had traveled with fear in their hearts. I think of the kindness with which I was received when I stopped to buy sambusas at my closest Somali cafe or given the extra loaf of warm Turkish bread at a Mediterranean restaurant. Beautiful children of God surround me each day as I go on my walks, shop on Lake Street, visit the grocery store, drive around town in my daily rounds. 

     Too often, these days, these times seem so dark and filled with those who emulate the one who would steal, kill and destroy…human hearts, human value, human families, denigrating the precious value of human life. But, even as we watch and wait, we continue to remember that God was made flesh and humbled into the smallness of a human body, a human baby. All the stories about the birth and childhood of Jesus remind us that God loves every human, no matter how small, no matter where they were born or how much power they have. And that the power of one poor, refugee child became the light that would pierce all the darkness of the world. The little baby of the unwed mother grew up to show us the way. I am praying every day that the light and the life of that itinerant,unhoused Jesus would be alive in me and that his prophecy would continue to be fulfilled in our broken world, as he continues to be alive in it, “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight to the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

     As you wait for Christmas in this season of advent, may Jesus be alive in you for the ways you may be his love alive in our broken and darkened world.

I’m always intentional about celebrating Christmas with our youth and families. I want Christmas not to be just about the day, or even hearing the Christmas story, but about the sense of community and connection… which we share throughout the year. I play Christmas music in the van, both traditional and hip hop. Often me and Lisa treat one of our families to a Christmas show, always a fun time. The boys and I talk about Christmas stuff: school break, presents anticipated, etc. but the topic never generates much excitement. Our annual shoe shopping spree for the basketball team has become a Christmas tradition, they get excited about that.   I get them to share stories about their own families. And there’s the rub…

In spite of my intentions to create a sense of excitement or joy about the season there is very little excitement about Christmas.   It’s just another day. There’s nothing special about the season; there is nothing about Christmas to them to commend it as the most wonderful time of the year. Life is life, it’s a struggle and we go on. Our mothers work hard to create a Christmas for their children that includes food aplenty and gifts… but the best blessing is a roof over your family’s head, food on the table… without that the rest really doesn’t matter. For many of our families Christmas is just more of the same struggle they experience year round. Parents are stressed, people still hustle, young people idly pass the time either staying up in the house bored, or running the streets.  And then there’s the Christmas party.

We’ve done our Christmas party for thirty years. We started having it in our house for all of our people and moved to have it at Park Avenue Church because it got too big for the house. Little kids, big kids, young adults, families, older parents, grandparents… they all come. Anyone who has been involved in our ministry here. Between Lisa’s hospitality and my joviality, we try to make sure people have a good time. We want them to feel comfortable, loved, connected and blessed… in Christ. It is the seminal event of the year which encapsulates our mission of creating Christian community. And people come away from it feeling good, feeling connected, and being reaffirmed of their membership in the Body of Christ.

Our families here experience so many different kinds of angst during this holiday season. It’s a time that engenders powerful family vibes but so many of our families are experiencing various types of angst. Loved ones who are absent due to incarceration, drug addiction or gun violence. Then there are those in our community who are living in fear of being accosted by immigration authorities if they leave the house for simple errands, going to work or even going to church. The whole Christmas vibe of family togetherness hits different for them. The real Christmas story, the story of Jesus’ birth, is replete with moments of angst, fear, struggle which give way to joy. This is indeed the time and the place to celebrate God with us.

We get to see and experience our Christmas miracles…  The family which we have been in relationship with through three generations, watching them endure through generational dysfunction to maintain a sense of connection, community and support over the holidays. Some who have suffered long journeys through the dark tunnel of chemical addiction begin to see the light of Christ’s love and presence in their lives. We take note of these things, and prepare ourselves in Christ for the vicissitudes of everyday life here, knowing that Christmas miracles are rare. In life we do not always experience the joy. We do not always experience the miracles. But it is always Christmas… God with us!

The struggle is real. The trauma is real. It is ever present, most of the time subtle and hidden, but sometimes it explodes… bursting out at unexpected and inopportune moments. It is neither contained nor controlled, at best it is managed. For our kids it is not born of a single tragic event, but a lifetime lived under stressful and often dangerous circumstances where violence can manifest at a moment’s notice. It is ingrained. It becomes a part of you. You don’t even know it’s there or identify it as trauma. It’s just part of life, something you live with, until you feel strange when it is not a part of your life.

Every week when I’m with young people the first part of our time together is telling stories. Stories about their week, what happened at school or things going on at home.  I realized early in our ministry that this story telling was compulsive and therapeutic. They needed to unburden themselves about things they had seen and experienced. There was no place else to release these burdens. They always take the form of exciting, funny stories to tell to get the group’s attention. But the incredulity of the storyteller, their voices often cracking with emotion, betrays the depth of feeling and effect the situation had on them.

One of the boys was regaling us in the van with stories of his weekend. It was like watching a movie… encounters with strangers, flirting with girls, embarrassing moments, and yes, life threatening episodes.  With each story his voice got louder and more strident. He told us about an encounter with a gang, about getting stopped and searched by the police, getting into a fight, and about him and his friends being shot at. He had moved on to an encounter with a drunk on the street when his voice started cracking. To cover up he started an argument with one of the other boys and got angry over a perceived slight. All the boys noticed but no one said anything. They knew what he was feeling. They all experience the same thing.

In our crowded van we have trauma therapy sessions. We share stories and we listen to one another. In our group they find a sense of safety and community.  I introduce Jesus into the situation. I don’t bring Christ in as a quick fix, or even as a solution to the problems. But simply as a reassurance that God sees you, God cares about you, and God is always with you… even in the valley of the shadow of death. They carry this community we share in Christ with them to their schools, homes and neighborhoods. We talk about not being in the streets, choosing good company, making good choices… but there is no quick fix, no easy solution. The only protection is to stay in the house and not go out, but sometimes the trauma is there too. Circumstances don’t miraculously disappear. But now they can grind it out with Christ by their side.

Pray for our children in trauma. Pray that they can live their days with a sense of safety and community. Pray for their physical safety in environments where violence can and does threaten them at any moment. Pray that they can enjoy opportunities to live, thrive and grow as young black men, children of God. Lord, we entrust them to you completely. These and all of the children suffering in our society today. We know that You are able to hold them, until that final day. (2 Tim. 1.12)

Someone asked me recently, “So who’s gonna continue the work of Christ’s Children when you are done?”

I have no concerns about this particular work continuing. All the hundreds of boys who have come through this ministry have heard the gospel of Christ in a personal way, a relational way, and in a way that fit their life context… a way that they would hear and understand. And I see evidence of this all around me.

I Chronicles 11 and 12 describes a group of men which were foundational to bringing about God’s kingdom through David. David’s mighty men. These were men that were devoted to David… his mission, his cause, his God. They were distinguished by their mighty works of valor. Anything from epic feats in battle to relentless devotion to their king. They were men marked by courage, conviction and faith. 

I have always told my boys that they had the potential to be God’s mighty men. That the greatest thing a black man could do in this life was to be a good husband, a good father, and to raise a strong family. I don’t worry about what comes after me because I look around and see these mighty men in the community doing their thing. 

I see so much that the Lord has done over the years. Our overriding goal has always been to bring people to Christ… but what that looks like in our ministry is to elevate people’s quality of life through recognizing their own self-worth in being a child of God. Our work has impacted lives and stimulated generational change in families here.

There are some like the man who started his own family and raised a child and has become a leader in his community and a stalwart example and role model for young men in our ministry.

Some are like the one who was a mainstay in our mentoring program as a boy, who now has his own family and carries out principles he learned from us in his role as a middle school dean. 

There’s the man who had a successful boxing career and is now teaching young people in his community the discipline of boxing as a metaphor for discipline in one’s life.

Then there’s the one who was always underfoot as a boy soaking up whatever good stuff we had to offer, and is now offering the “good stuff” to other children as a teacher.

One man went to college, decided it wasn’t for him and found another path as a coach, influencing many youth in the community. He started a family, became a teacher, went back to school to earn a degree and now runs a school as a principal.

There’s one who grew up surrounded by violence, losing many friends along the way and very nearly his own life. Today heheads a non-profit dedicated to giving at-risk youth an avenue out of a violent lifestyle.

Another one as a teenager scorned civil service, education and above all books… but today has his master’s degree, and works in the juvenile justice system helping youth and families avoid spiraling paths of self-destruction.

And there’s one who, when his dream of becoming a professional athlete didn’t pan out, did not quit on life but earned a college degree.  He passed on opportunities for a lucrative career and instead chose to pursue a time-honored profession in the Black community, becoming a barber. He provides a respite, a place men and children go for an instant burst of self-esteem and a much needed dose of positive Black male community.

Another of our young men travels the country consulting with institutions and agencies to promote violence free communities.

There’s our friend who has become a great influencer of children and families in the community working in the Park and Recreation system and working his way to becoming a Park Director.

And the one who turned to gangs at a young age as a solace to family loss and pain, but made a break from that doomed path, almost costing him his life, to become a husband, father and entrepreneur.

There are even those who made terrible mistakes as young people, and committed terrible crimes. They went to prison and paid their debt to society through the surrender of many years of freedom, but emerged with a sense of purpose and determination to rejoin their families and communities. Having as their goals to live fulfilling lives, influencing their children and others so as not to make the same mistakes they did. 

And there are those no longer with us, who we have lost to violence, accidents and suicide; but who remain in our hearts. They have each left behind loved ones who cherish their memories and who carry on in their names.

After thirty years there are too many to mention here individually, and many whose whereabouts are unknown to us. We rarely see fruit immediately, but we do see fruit… after 5, 10, 20 years or more sometimes. Mighty men all.

These are all men who used to follow me around the neighborhood as boys, who we’ve poured into with the express goal of becoming a tool for Christ to influence their neighborhoods and families as men: husbands, fathers and leaders. They came to see themselves not as the refuse of a society that fears and denigrates them as urban black men, but to value themselves as children of God and to be empowered by that self-knowledge to live and thrive and influence others. They are truly mighty men, they and hundreds of others carrying on the legacy of affirming self-worth and value in Christ… working jobs, starting families, raising kids. They are breaking generational cycles and changing the world around them. The neighborhood…, no, the world is a better place because of them. 

Who could do this except God? All glory to the Lord!

   Chris and I meet regularly with some friends who minister in south MInneapolis and one of the topics we often discuss is how we’ve all made it over 35 years here in this context. Recently when we had dinner with a younger couple on the front end of their years working here in the city, I shared with them a couple of the reasons that we have been able to stay here serving Jesus, in spite of the setbacks and heartaches and sorrows we’ve been part of.

     First of all, I think the biggest reason we’ve been able to stay is because we haven’t measured our success in the business terms of the world. American culture is just so focused on profits and success and markers of achievement and growth. If you work anywhere where things are hard and you are battling generational forces of destruction, you are not going to have lots of bright and shiny stories made for the movies, or rags to riches and brokenness to wholeness. If you need to be a bright and shiny success yourself, this life is not for you. We have chosen to measure our success in terms of love and of faithfulness–ever real commitment to living out the love of Jesus day by day and faithfulness to love and work with whoever and whatever God chooses to send our way.

     Secondly, we have chosen to measure not by yardsticks of the world’s success, but by every tiny little bit of change, movement, self-awareness and growth we see in each person or in their family unit. I call those things my jewels. We see them. Chris and I discuss them. We celebrate them. We thank God for them. We marvel at even the tiniest movements that we see towards life and love and Jesus. I can get so much joy and encouragement from one little jewel that I will carry around in my heart for weeks.

     I feel like these two pivotal principles were in play in our weeks leading up to Easter as we thought of various ways to celebrate the power of Jesus’ love and resurrection. We had a lovely gathering on Palm Sunday with a bunch of our grown up kids that have preschool children-5 young men raising families and one of our grown up girls who is raising her nephew. What a lovely celebration with these six families and what a joy to see the kind of parents they are! When we think of how some of them never had a father present to dry their tears or change their diapers, it is just a marvel to see how they care for their children with love and attention.

What a jewel. And imagine seeing young people you have known since they were children, now waving palm branches with their own children celebrating our beautiful Jesus and teaching their little ones songs Chris taught them when they were young.

     Then, we had an Easter gathering for all our high school kids where we ate good food and Chris shared the Easter story. As Chris was teaching I looked across the group and considered how far some of these guys have come since fifth and sixth grade…a couple of them, by all rights, could be in detention or dead. Some, living through great tragedy in their families–the death of a parent, the incarceration of older siblings, abandonment by parents, they persevere. It is a privilege that I get to love them and so many of them love me back. In spite of hardships that are just too much to imagine, like the plants that flower and  grow in the tiniest cracks in the sidewalk, these young men cling to life and every day we try to remind them that God is a God who is for THEM and FOR them and that Jesus’ love can help them flourish in a world that is so decidedly not for them.

     I think of all of you faithful supporters, who have stuck with us all these years, helping us to stay faithful here and live out this magnificent call to preach good news to the captives and offer a vision of what God has for them when the world would keep them blind. I pray that Jesus would easter in you and that you also would be alive each day to the love and life Jesus has for you and the ways that you may live that out in the world around you.

We gathered outside the community center, soothing our wounds while we absorbed the shock of an unexpected loss. We were the favorites to win, by a large margin. We could’ve won, we should’ve won, but we didn’t. It was a hard pill to swallow. My kids do not have the emotional resources to shrug off defeats like this… to look in the mirror and examine what you see. It’s always somebody else’s fault. Unfair treatment by the refs, the other team cheated… it’s never mistakes that you yourself or your team committed.  It was a blessing to be able to process it as a group, together. At the end of the game tensions were high, both teams in their feelings, they almost came to blows, but they didn’t. In previous situations my guys would’ve succumbed to their emotions and the urge to violence to vent their feelings… but this time they did not. A significant sign of growth. During the game I had to talk one kid down, then another. It’s always a touch and go situation when deep feelings and wounds are stirred. But they chose to rise above frustration and anger. I was proud of them and told them so.

So as we stood outside the building in a group, we struggled to process feelings and emotions. Still primed for aggressive action… being taunted by passersby… but they held it together. Nobody understands that the emotions primed are not simply at losing a game… it’s the violence you may have experienced that week: a gunshot thrown your way, a fight at your school, a threat made to you, dissension at home… How constant and near is the threat of violence in their personal lives! After overcoming my despair at seeing how close to violence they were, my disappointment that they were not showing more growth after many years with them, I began to realize that I was witnessing that growth right in front of me. As they spoke to their pain, frustration and disappointment. As they recognized their own flaws even as they listed the injustices against them. As they considered inappropriate ways of expressing themselves, but at the same time rejected them.  A woman, a parent from the other team, passed us by. She praised the boys for their physical skill on the court and for the emotional composure they showed. A rarity.

We’d been at this juncture as a group many times and the platitudes and advice I offered were anticipated by them, not new. But then, my coach spoke up, a young man who used to play for me and has now coached the team the past couple of years. After showing deference to me, he spoke to the boys, making clear that, unlike me, he was coming from the perspective of being one of them. Having been in their shoes, this particular situation, playing for me on a team for many years… “Listen to what I am saying”, he says, “because I am one of you. I came up like y’all. This is not the path to the kind of life you want to have. Sometimes it seems like everything and everyone is against you. You want to cuss and fight and scream… but that won’t help you get where you want to be. Your feelings are your feelings and you have a right to them, but don’t let them control you. I feel the same way as you and as a grown man I continue to have those feelings and situations, but I am learning to overcome them. I’m a dad now, in a committed relationship with two kids… and I have to do better. We have to do better.”

In the silence which followed I could only say, “Amen.”