Work Force

Got a call from a our big black firend who works outside the one remaining abortion clinic in Mississippi. He wants fellowship and some extra prayer support as he comes up against some hard hearts down there.

"Why not join us Sunday evening at the little yellow house?" I suggested. We are praying for more people like you to come, get prayer, and get equipped to go out to work for God."

"Sure, but I smashed my car and it'll take me 2 hours to walk there."

so...Mag and the boys and I headed down the interstate to pick up Bruce. After some searching, we found his house. His brother Joseph asked if he could hitch a ride with us to the gas station. So we all watched mesmerized as he shifted and clicked his knees with the pins in them to get his legs into the back seat, cracking jokes all the while about his condition.

Then when Bruce told him that Peter was a joker, he asked Peter if he'd met his great friend, Julio. I thought, "Oh, no, he's going to ask us to pick up someone else. I am already traumatized by this culture shock going on in my back seat!" Besides how many big, black, funny guys can we fit into the back seat?"

He swung his left arm up and announced, "Here's Julio!" We all gasped at his arm with no hand. After showing it off, more joking and banter back and forth, getting lost on the freeways because both guys were talking at once and giving contradicting directions, we finally pulled in to his gas station, and waited as he unclicked his knees with his one good arm, held a cigarette with his stump, and lit it with the good hand. Assured that he'd be fine, off we drove to the Bible study. Maybe next time he'll come too.

Sigh, it will be nice to have a quiet little study, we were thinking as we pulled up to the house. There was only one car out front, but that did not mean the Bible Study would be a small intimate group. It only meant that none of the visitors had cars. Most homeless folks don't own cars. And the Lancaster's big diningroom and kitchen were crowded with homeless people!

"Amy! Where did all these brothers come from?" I whispered. "God!" she whispered and smiled that big smile of hers. There were at least 20 new people, four ladies and the rest men, all with Bibles open and some with pens taking notes! Praise God!

I slipped into the back row next to a smallish, older, black man who was kind of hunched over, but still reading his Bible and following along. When he straightened up and took his turn to read Acts 20 in a clear strong voice, I realized I was sitting next to a man the neighborhood considers to be very dangerous, who steals in broad daylight, walking down the middle of the street like a furniture store with legs. He will be carrying a lamp, a computer and other assorted sundry itens he had "found" inside folks homes.

This is his livelihood, but as Amy says, he's welcome at her house because he needs Jesus like all the rest of us.

Besides, he is another one who was called to preach years ago. Imagine that. There he sat with several broken ribs from a recent fight, a gash across his face, but studying the Bible as part of an overflowing room of others who miraclulously have stepped forward in answer to our prayer: "LORD OF THE HARVEST!! SEND FORTH WORKERS!!"

Now, Lord, who is going to save, heal, deliver each one? "No problem," says Jesus, "I'd be happy to do the job."