Jackson Street Ministry

A Journal Entry by Greg Payne (dated 12/12/2008)

Oh Father! Your truth is never-ending and it never stops searching me out. In this regard it has no end. I take 1 step, pat myself on the back, and You seem to say not enough; please come take 2 steps and let me show you more of who I am. For it was not long ago that my son and I along with my parents were on our way to San Diego for a vacation, trading our kingdom of comfort for more comfort, fun, and enjoyment. This was at a time I was not following You and as we drove to the airport on I-85, we took an off ramp and came to a stop at a red light. To the left of us was a homeless man with a cardboard sign and a cup. He was haggard, lines etched deeply in his face, some remains of teeth, extremely thin, and not all there mentally. As his old wilted hands held out the cup for money, they tremored as if he was in withdrawal. Over the course of my life, I have passed by hundreds of homeless people and beggars and never thought twice about stopping to help them but this time it was different. And what burns in me to this day is him; a haunting memory of my inaction. I really wanted to hand him some money but I did not. I did not want to be ridiculed. There was a suggestion that this man should get a job but this man was in no way, shape, or form capable of holding a steady job. This much I knew and yet I did nothing, paralyzed by lack of compassion and caring too much about what others would think of me if I did help. Just then, the light changes to green, and I let out a sigh of relief to remove myself from this spotlight as I push the gas pedal, but as much as I push down the gas pedal in order to gain distance, I cannot drive far enough from this memory; it clings itself to me like one of those Bounce Clothe fresheners.  

Fast forward 3 years, 2 years since returning to You and I think about how much You are using me to help others and lift them up. I think of how far I have come in my compassion yet I am wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. On a trip to Athens, I go there to celebrate my friend’s birthday but more importantly to try and show him how following Christ has changed me because I think in my heart I see him falling for the same lies; material possessions, golf, money, a focus on self. So he, his wife, and two of my other friends pile into a car and head to Atlanta to celebrate his birthday. We will spend money and enjoy a great meal and entertainment at an upscale and trendy restaurant. On our way there, for some reason our conversation steers towards homeless beggars. In a great debate we discuss giving money to the roadside beggars and our struggles in knowing if it is the right thing to do, but the discussion turns to the intent of the beggar. One judges the intent, one says it is a scam, one is scared to step out, and me I grandly display Christ in me by telling them it is the purity of our action when handing someone money that God judges us on. It is not up to us to judge the circumstance. I am quite proud of myself for exhibiting Christ in me and my friends seem to take notice. I pat myself on my back. 30 minutes later we take an off ramp as we enter the city of Atlanta and come to a stoplight. To the left of us is a beggar with a cardboard sign and a cup. All of a sudden I am paralyzed. Something in me says get out of the car, walk over to him, and hand him all of my money, $80 worth. I don’t. The seconds tick by in excruciating pain. Oh for the love of all that is good, please red light change to green and press down on the gas pedal. All of us try to pretend not to notice him by immersing ourselves in conversation. The light finally turns green and the gas pedal is pushed. Moments later it hits me, I can’t believe I just failed You again! You’ve got to be kidding me. How could I fail again? Is it not true I was scared of what my friends would think of me? I was thinking this beggar doesn’t look like he needs it, he is plump, seems in good shape, my friends are going to laugh at me because this guy has ripped me off. I failed, I failed, I failed. I had the greatest opportunity to minister to my friend in action, not in words, and I failed miserably.

Oh Father, please give me another chance. I say this over and over again for 6 long hours in my car as I drive back to Clinton, Mississippi. Father just give me another chance, please. I won’t fail You again. Weeks later, after visiting with my 14 year old son in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, my ex-wife and my son are driving me to the airport to fly back to Clinton. The conversations I had with my son earlier in the weekend centered around helping those less fortunate than us and that money is really not that important. As we near the airport, what else happens but we pull up to a red light. To the left of us is a beggar, with a cardboard sign and a cup. In all the times I visited my son this year I have never seen a beggar at this intersection, ever. Something in me stirs to get out of the car, walk over to him, give him $20, and pray for him but we are two lanes over, what if the light turns green? I tell myself there is not enough time. Besides he looks like he doesn’t need it. What are they going to think of me if I do this? Pretty soon my excuses delay me long enough for the light to turn green and the gas pedal is pushed. Moments later, I absolutely cannot believe I did it again. A perfect opportunity to show who Christ is in me to my son and my ex-wife, in action, not in words and once again I fail. I am now laughing at myself because if I don’t I will want to stick a knife in me and put me out of my misery. Father, please just one more chance, please, I beg You, I am so sorry; I could have done so much good for You and shown others Your glory in me. I could have shown them the city on a hill, the light in the lamp post, the salt of the earth, and I failed. I can’t believe I failed again. Oh my gosh! I am pitiful. Please just one more chance.

3 weeks later, the same intersection and by now you know the story. Yes to the left of us a beggar with a cardboard sign and a cup. Father, seriously, just kill me, what good am I to You? By now I have stopped asking for another chance but here is where God shows His never-ending redemptive love. No matter how many times I fail Him, He simply picks me up, dusts me off, and points me down the path of truth once again. He knows I am trying to passionately follow Him and He does not give up. I could fail 500 times, I could pull up to an intersection with a red light and fail over and over again, but as long as I am pursuing Him, He will not let me fail.

Weeks later, in a random conversation with my neighbor Bob, where by the way I bothered to interrupt my work-out walk and spend some time in relationship, he mentions he goes downtown every Wednesday to minister to the homeless. Inside I am speechless. What are the odds my neighbor across the street is involved in homeless ministry? If I laid a wager on this in Vegas, I would be a filthy rich man. I suddenly utter, “Can I come with you this Wednesday?” Bob says, “Sure.” Since that day, I have joined the Jackson Street Ministry every Wednesday for the past 3 months driving around the crime ridden city streets looking for those with cardboard signs and a cup.

How can I understand a love like this? My Redeemer, You never quit on me, You never gave up.

How do you see things? 

“God also opened my eyes even more to homelessness yesterday.  Instead of buying lunch, we packed a picnic and spent about 45 minutes in Smith Park.  We were able to share lunch with a couple of our street friends.  I don’t know their names but I have seen them at the OC.  We also bumped into Gerry outside One Jackson Place.  We had a nice conversation with him and it was a sweet reunion between friends for he and Ron.  However, Gerry followed us into One Jackson Place and you could see the guard’s skin crawl and he did not like Gerry being in that building and the looks we got b/c we were having a normal conversation with Gerry was an eye opener.  Some people do not look at the homeless as humans and it is very sad.  I wish that everyone could see Gerry with the eyes of God!”

Tosha Dickens reflecting on an experience in downtown Jackson on 6/15/2009

What does it mean to see others through the eyes of God? 

Paul once saw people to persecute through his eyes, but after being blinded on trip to Damascus, he started seeing people through God’s eyes.

John once with great zeal was ready to bring fire down upon an unrepentant and rejecting Samaritan village, but his heart was changed by Christ and his vision followed suit. John went on to be known as the “Apostle of Love” and made a Samaritan woman with a checkered past a very unlikely hero in her encounter with Jesus at Jacob’s well. John saw people differently as a result of his heart change. 

Peter had once grabbed his sword and sliced off the ear of Malchus the servant of the High Priest.  His eyes were ready for battle, but Jesus repaired the damage.  Eventually, Peter would set his sword aside as he had his fishing net and preach a sermon filled with the Holy Spirit.  His experiences and the Spirit changed his vision. 

James, the brother of John, once sought the high seat of greatness and high rank in the kingdom of God.  Jesus told him of a different kind of cup; a cup of suffering.  James would drink of that cup and go on to be the first martyr of the twelve.  No doubt, Herod wanted to execute a leader in the group and early church history details James had traveled as far as Spain in a short time.  James saw greatness only through the eyes of Christ.

We read these biblical accounts of how folks change to see differently and we struggle ourselves.  Tosha has only scratched the surface of a larger challenge that sways everyone whether they are guarding a downtown office building or not.  We are born with imperfect eyes.  We form perceptions through these natural eyes and those perceptions govern out thought process which in turn, directs our heart. 

Jesus taught the following:

This is why I speak to them in parables:  Though seeing, they do not see, though hearing, they do not hear or understand. In them is fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah; you will be ever hearing but never understanding, you will be ever seeing but never perceiving. For this people’s heart has become calloused, they hardly hear with their ears, and they have closed their eyes.  Otherwise they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts and turn, and I would heal them.  Matthew 13:13-15

Do you see how everything is connected; the heart, the eyes, the ears?  The word for calloused heart in the Greek is pachyno, which basically means to make thick.  Impenetrable.  Think of a fortress around the heart not to protect it, but to keep it thick – spreading all the way to the windows to the heart; the eyes.  There, the eyes are not merely closed, just not open, seeing without seeing as Jesus would label it.

When it comes to the poor, the homeless, the downtrodden, it is easier to deal with them by looking past them; yes, seeing them without seeing them. Then when they enter a place where you can’t ignore them like One Jackson Place, the skin crawls, the heart grows thick and the eyes close all the more.  The void as Jesus would call it is – no understanding in the heart.  The fortress won’t allow for it, therefore the heart remains thick and dark and the strands of healing light are kept at bay. 

Therein we discover our ministry. To bring light to the plight of those looked over and urged to stay camouflaged in surroundings where they belong, where they can continue to go unnoticed.  We are called as the Jackson Street Ministry to confront this callousness with the light of Christ so the fortress might crumble and healing might ensue.  Eyes may be flung wide open.  We are reminded that only his power can do this miraculous work on the heart, we are only called to go in His name, be in His name and do in His name.  The results are up to Him. 

For 14 long years Paul had labored for the Lord and he had the stripes to prove it.  He had gone where the Spirit led, he had endured where strength could only come from God, he had been a light in dark places, he had led countless people to faith and now he found himself back in Jerusalem after 14 years of mssion.  Galatians chapter two, reveals that Paul had traveled with Titus and Barnabas to straighten out an issue with those known as the “pillars” of the church, namely, Peter, James (brother of Christ) and John.  In this landmark meeting the leaders ironed out the issues and made ready to continue the work.  However, James, John and Peter made known one very specific and evidently incredibly important command.

All they (Peter, James and John)  asked was that we should continue to remember the poor, the very thing I was eager to do.  Galatians 2:10

Peter, James and John wanted to be certain of Paul’s vision.  Paul was eager for the poor.  I pray we may be found to be just as eager as this great cloud of witnesses.

Why, so we might see others throught the grace healed eyes of the living God.  That, my friends, changes how everything looks.

-malcolm

Over the years we have lost some of our friends.  Like a breath of fresh air or the cool strand of a breeze they delight us in their brevity.  We only wish we could have had more time to enjoy their company. 

She was a sweet natured person who really loved her children. I do not know why she was on the streets of Jackson, but know in what I saw that she cared about those she was around. Her leaving the Christmas program to get Travis something for his toothache demonstrated that to me. She was always quick to give a smile and a hug and ask how I was doing. She was also so appreciative when I gave her a pair of Joanna’s shoes that had been worn once-every time I saw her, she would show me she was wearing them and when she was not, she would say they were too nice to be out in the rainy conditions. She will be missed.

David

David Triplett echoes what so many of us know who knew Ms. Natalie.  She cared.  Yes, she was in the street, had her struggles, disappointments, and despair, but she cared for those around her.  She loved.  She was grateful.  She was always polite, etc. She was also off the street and living in a boarding home; the first step many never get around to taking.  Natalie did take that step.  We cringe to think of how she died being consumed by flame.  Why did it have to be that way, but we have hope of assurance as a volunteer emailed and confirmed she was a believer.  From where she is now - she has traded in her boarding house for a mansion crafted by the hands of Christ.  Her struggles are over.  Her failings have been forgotten.  Her despair has been extinguished for in the perfect joy of heaven there is not room for despair’s hold.  Her pain has been replaced by the unmatched, uncompromised, and perfect love of God. 

I would like to close with Bob Ford’s recollection of ministering and remembering ”sweet” Natalie. 

I met Natalie about 4 months ago at the Opportunity Center. She told me that her dad owned a car dealership or maybe several when she was growing up and he made her work in each dept. including service to learn the business from the ground up. She told me that she finally chose to work in the finance and insurance dept. because that was where she could make the most money. However, due to the long hours and pressure, she started drinking. She did talk about her 2 children and said they had a trust fund for schooling. I do not know if she set this up for them or perhaps another family member did this. She was always glad to talk to me and seemed to have a sweet personality. She once told me that she had been thru 7-8 detox programs for alcohol. She was always receptive to prayer and liked to hold hands when I prayed for her. When I her the news about her, I was very dismayed and felt bad that perhaps I should have been more forward in talking with her about the gospel. I was much relieved when a previous email said she was already a believer. I will miss her and her sweet spirit.

Bob

Special thanks to Bob Ford and David Triplett for sharing about Natalie. 

-m

We’ve stopped there several times and although we have seen signs of people we have never encountered any. 

Along Frontage road next to I-20 in South Jackson there is a bridge that crosses the railroad.  It is a short distance from a fairly vast forest, truck stops, the interstate and railroad as mentioned.  Much like Red’s bridge this one has ample living space and shelter.  It appears by all measure like it would be a hot spot for the homeless. 

It offers one plus that would be a big plus in my mind; less overhead noise and thunderous vibration from passing vehicles.  Red’s bridge sounds as though it is coming apart as traffic runs rampant overhead.  It would drive me crazy.  It’s hard to talk to one another.  I-20 is a good distance from the Frontage Road Bridge and would be more peaceful.  When you do have traffic it passes over at a much less rate of speed. 

Also, a short distance away is your ticket to anywhere - the rails.  A backpack lies just off the tracks in the gravel.  It has been there for a couple of weeks.  I can only assume someone made their connection to the train, but left their stuff.  They didn’t just jump back off, they rode on without it.  It is a sure sign of how things and stuff matter little when you have nearly nothing.  Or, perhaps the pack fell off a train as it passed by the bridge.  The owner, unaware, had situated himself to catch some sleep.  He may have been looking for it since - not because of the material things in it, but maybe there was a picture of a family.  Gazing at the picture takes him back to another time.  What good memories exist; do so right along beside the bad.  In many ways they are inseparable; the good and the bad.  Who knows what story the backpack has, it can’t talk, but if it could, oh the things it could tell. 

We aren’t here as the Jackson Street Ministry for backpacks or socks or even food, but the people that accept those things.  We search, seek and look for our friends in places like the Frontage Road Bridge, at the Opportunity Center and the margins around other places along the way.  The Kingdom is not here or there as Jesus once said, it is all around and in our midst (Luke 17:20-21).  We stand to be a little light in the worldly darkness, a little salt bringing flavor to what is bland and preserving that which can perish, a little seed so small no one can even see it barely 2 mm wide planted knowing one day it will overcome its size a be a resting place and safe haven for those who once passed over the seed, a little yeast within the dough that makes all the difference, a little reminder walking the street telling of a Father who will welcome you home no matter your path.  The message and the mission can not be torn apart, for without the message we have no mission.  In my mind, saving someone from the hunger of a night on the street pales in comparison to spending eternity separate from God.   

We call it Lauren’s place, the bridge, because one of our volunteers, Lauren Dove, says it is where she would be if she were homeless.  She has studied its amenities, as have I, and decided it would be a good place to call home that isn’t a home. 

So, we’ll continue to stop by Lauren’s place.  Maybe the backpack will still be there.  Maybe the signs of a camp underneath will have a soul who needs a sandwich and a conversation or prayer. 

In street ministry, there are a lot of “maybes” and “perhaps”.  But let it not be said of us “maybe” we will come or “perhaps” someone cares.  We will come.  We will care.  It is what God has charged us to do, not by force but by the ever spreading pervading will of his unmatched grace. 

Come alive in that grace and come join us on a Wednesday night.  We’ll check out Lauren’s place together.

-malcolm

by Greg Payne

4/29/09

Tonight was a good night in the street ministry, for I met Stuart and for an entire hour he preached the word of God to me, but first he had to quench his thirst so I watched as he gulped an entire bottle of water in mere seconds.  Then he proceeded with the words of God, his Bible was open and draped over his forearm as if his arm was held out for a woman to take, but instead his bride was God.  Such simple phrases came from his mouth, and the speaking of truth, honestly I could have stood there all night and listened to him. …he is homeless, and he is supposed to be leaving for Greenville, MS in the morning, and yet somehow I doubt this will happen.  He says he has a Mom and Dad there, and his Mom receives his check so he is not sure if she loves him, or wants him there for his check.  I assume Stuart is on welfare, or mental disability, not sure which.  He says he desires his independence, and wants to be on his own, as he quotes scripture.  

All we could see in the dim light was a silhouette.  The figure was gaunt and skinny carrying a pack of some sort.  One of our street friends, no doubt.  From the van some tried to guess at his identity.

We were approaching Dean’s store, which has grown into a mini outreach point.  Dean was there, so was Tom, another man named Frank, another I didn’t know and failed to get a name, and later the figure from the dark. 

I introduced myself and went to shake his hand.  His hand was crumpled up, so I shook his fist.  We gave him some food and I sat and talked with him awhile. 

He told me he struggled with pain killers and alcohol; a dangerous combination.  I asked about family, where he was staying, life on the street, etc.  He was remarkably forthcoming and had no inhibitions about sharing with me. 

He finally told me, out of the blue, that he knew the “truth”.  That is what he called it.  That Jesus and lived, died and was raised for his sins.  He said he was “worn out”.  He confided that he was 54 years old, but I must honestly confess he looked 70.  His face was weathered, his hands were drawn, and his eyes revealed pain and hurt…  a lifetime of it by my estimation. 

I asked to pray for Reggie, but he said no, pray for his family.  He was certain he could “get by” or “go on” - which was his greater ambition, what had this life given him?  He revealed to me that his son has told him to stay out of his life.  Don’t come around…  You’re not wanted…  You’re not loved…  What you have become and what you have done has erased any chance of a hope for the future…   Reggie would have waves of emotion come over him, where he couldn’t speak and couldn’t cry.  I saw a tear fighting to get out of his right eye, but it almost wouldn’t let go.  Then he would be fine for a few seconds until another wave of emotion would overtake him.  I did what we do.  I sat with him and listened.  I didn’t judge him and I could have - it appears so many have done a more complete job of that.  I could have told him everything will be alright, but I didn’t for it would be an affront to the truth, after all the sun rises and the rain pours on the righteous and the unrighteous.  I just listened and then I asked to pray. 

He wanted me to pray for them (his family), so I did.  I also prayed for Reggie perhaps breaking a bit of the vow, but I followed as I was being led.  He didn’t object.  I was careful to make sure the prayer included what I heard from him.  We have been criticized by some who think we should do more corporate prayer in the street.  That’s fine; I suggest those folks start their own street ministry with the passion God has given them.  But for us, prayer, one-on-one with someone you have met and learned about is the heart of this ministry.  We build relationships based on a good ear and a heart for prayer.  I believe that quickens us to God and then in that realm - anything is possible.  We’ve been witnesses to it.

I had never met Reggie before last Wednesday night.  Pray for him, his addictions, his despair,  and his family (which was his principal request).  Pray that his knowing of the truth overtakes his heart completely squeezing out all else…  the pain…   the depression…  the addiction…  the brokenness… 

I pray Reggie one day can bask in the beautiful light of reconciliation with his son.  Perhaps he is the prodigal father in a twist of the great parable.  I think I saw him Wednesday night as close to the trough of the pigs as you can get.  

“May peace like a river attendeth his soul…”

 -m 

a follow up to Iowa Ron

by Tosha Dickens

To be honest, kudos to Cade (my 15 year old son). I have never seen him so persistent in all his 15 years. He would not let me give up even if I had tried. We both went home Friday night so discouraged and had no peace. Cade cried and prayed for the longest. After a very long and restless night, we hit the streets early Saturday morning.

We went to the warehouse where Ron lived with Gerry and Dave. I wasn’t comfortable letting Cade go into the warehouse so we yelled from the car. Ron said he heard us but thought it was an angel. He asked Gerry and Dave if they had heard anything and they both told him he was crazy.

Anyway, we did not find Ron at the warehouse and we basically drove around in circles for hours. We went to the places that we knew he could be and even some places we just thought would be a good place to look. I have a whole new understanding of Jackson! I feel like an old pro now.Cade and I made several loops around the warehouse because we both felt that Ron was somewhere in or near that warehouse. Finally at 11:33 a.m., I turned onto Gallatin from Mill Street and there he was. He was just walking slowly up the street. Cade and I have never been so excited to see a homeless man! It was awesome!We took Ron to eat and made some phone calls only to find out that Maggie with Guardian Angel couldn’t take Ron until one day early this week. I called everyone that I could think of. My brain had pretty much stopped because I was just physically and somewhat emotionally drained. I couldn’t imagine taking Ron back to the warehouse but it didn’t look like we had a choice. So Cade and I took Ron shopping for some things that he needed, we took him to the warehouse and Cade went in this time to help Ron get his bags of groceries in. When Cade got back to the car, he told me that we could not leave Ron there anothernight.I told him that we didn’t have a choice. Well….Cade has never been one to take no for an answer. He called our Educational Ministerwho suggested Southside Baptist Churches Christ House. I was so tired that I forgot all about the Christ House and the last time I checked,they didn’t have room for Ron.

Wow what an action packed weekend.

Terry called Saturday to “Just Check In” as he has just about everyday since we told him we would get him out of town. Sunday morning he called at 7:30 to say the bus that comes and picks up those who want to go to Gravy and Grace for breakfast would not be running and he did not know what to do so Ally and I went and got him at the OC. He then wanted to go and get all his belongings from his cave but we did make it to Gravy and Grace for breakfast. We then left at 10ish to head to Parkway and got there about 10:30. Terry met Brother Ken and all was in motion. Terry was one of 5 to be baptized and what an awesome thing,, I cried like a baby and Kristi said the applause was loud and long after Terry!!! We sat thru service then took Terry for lunch then to our house to do his laundry, pack him up and just spend some time talking. Kristi took some pictures and zoomed off to the evil empire to get then printed out for him and Terry had a few last minute items he needed. We made it to the bus station in plenty of time and then Terry decides with 15 minutes before boarding he needed some cell phone minutes so off we raced to a store to get some. When we got back Kristi, Kayla and Ally were in line with Terry’s bags. I dropped him off raced around to park and made it back in time to hug him good bye.

A young boy walked along the sea shore late one day and noticed a starfish stranded far from the surf struggling for life.  The boy reached down and gently lifted the starfish.  He then returned it to the ocean.

A man who watched the act, approached the boy and asked, “Why are you bothering with that starfish?  They die up tide all the time, by the thousands.  You can’t make a difference.”

Looking the man squarely in the eye, the boy returned, “I made a difference for one.”

-Source Unknown

You’ve probably heard that story as have I, several times.  In the street ministry, feeling overwhelmed with the apparent needs of many is a common occurrence.  It is easy to fall into the trap of believing you can’t make a difference.  On a certain level I agree, then I ask this question:

Can God make a difference? 

And…

How does God choose to make a difference?

Many times, as shocking as this is to some people - He chooses to work through us. 

Ron from Iowa was that one starfish.  His past is littered with failures, disappointments, pain, struggle, emotional duress, family tragedy… on and on… more and more…

In every sense of the story, Ron had washed up tide and stranded himself on the sea shore far from the surf.  The first night Ray Robertson, his son Reese and I encountered Ron, he just asked us to pray for his peace.  We did. 

Enter those who represent the boy of this story, none other than Tosha and Cade Dickens (Mother and Son).  They both took to Ron and discovered more and more about his situation.  At first, there was a great victory.  Ron was off the street and receiving treatment for his cancer. 

Tosha and Cade got that starfish back in the water.

A few weeks later the starfish was back on the shore.  Tosha discovered that a previous misdemeanor in Florida had frozen Ron’s benefits.  Therefore, the facility where he was being treated had no choice but to discharge him. 

Florida said, if Ron would surrender to them his benefits would be reinstated.  How does Ron get to Florida?  He’s homeless.  Tosha then began a campaign to see if any lawyers would intervene on Ron’s behalf.  One volunteered, but did not follow up and soon would not answer or return any of Tosha’s calls. 

Looks like we can’t make a difference for this starfish after all.

Tosha doesn’t give up, in part driven by the absurdity of the Florida request given the situation, she continues to call the judge’s office in Florida and we draft a letter from JSM to the judge on Ron’s behalf.

Then, finally, on Friday 4/17 at 3:17pm, I received an email from Tosha explaining she had talked with the judge and all charges were being reversed against Ron.  Now, today (4/18), Ron has been found on the street (just out walking somewhere) by Tosha and Cade and has been notified of this dramatic turn of events.  He has been approved to be placed in an inpatient facility in Raleigh, Mississippi. 

The starfish is back in the surf, safe and sound. 

The truth is that making a difference for one is a big thing.  Sure there are more on the beach than one can count, but I believe we are called to help those we can.

I think I hear Tosha and Cade running to the next starfish.  

Let’s join them.  As Damien our homeless advocate from New Orleans, who is now homeless here, has pointed out to me; we have about the same number of churches in the Jackson area as there are homeless people. 

I like those odds.  They are in our favor.  Being in God’s will makes us always the favored. 

Spread the word and pay no attention to the adversary on the beach saying, “You can’t make a difference.”   We know his true identity and he is powerless before the movement of God in His people.  

Let’s go be the salt and the light we are called to be!

-m 

I wasn’t sure what I was seeing.  Ben Sticker saw the same thing and made the realization long before me.

When we stepped out of the van near Jim/Alan’s pipe last Wednesday night, I again saw the wildflowers dotting the darkness with their bright white.  But, there was something else…

Amid the flowers were two paths leading toward the pipe sight with trampled flowers underneath.  Ben said, “They’ve come and taken the pipe!”

He was right.  Some sort of very large machinery has removed Alan’s pipe from under the I-20/Gallitin overpass.  The plywood is just folded about the ground and there is still an old plastic chair with piles of trash and bedding, but the pipe is gone.  Alan had asked us to pray we wouldn’t find him and that prayer has been answered.  Now the pipe has gone as well. 

Once the home of Earnest, Jim and Alan, the pipe is perhaps now gone on to be the purpose for which it was made.  Not that God didn’t use if for other purposes along the way.  He will use anything as He pleases. 

Oh, including us…

-m