Be For Real

If a revival could begin in California at Azuza Street, wah couldn't another start in Jackson, Mississippi? Couldn't God just do it? All by Hisself?? Wah not, y'all?

Sunday morning at the homeless church in the park, it was a little quieter because "John the Baptist" was not there. So no one was up front doing airplane moves to the worship music. Still, you never know if some of the other 'least of these' Jesus' brothers and sisters may turn out to be mighty men and women of God.

We had a few miracles as usual. One was the homeless 'angel', who appeared out of no where to take over the microphone and lead the singing when two of our leaders had hoarse throats. What a terrific voice he had!

Another was my opportunity to just sit on a bench with a 19 year old girl who grew up with abuse and is now on the streets.

It was chilly cold yesterday, and her red, bare feet were stuffed inside some plastic, see-through, high heels shoes. She could not stop talking to me and rocking back and forth. Most of what she said was incoherent, interspersed with, "You don't understand, Ms. Sylvia. You just don't understand."

I just linked arms with her and let her go on and on, until she finally wound down to silence, and we just sat there together on the bench, while Mr. Bill preached away fervently across the park at the pavillion to the mostly men gathered there. I prayed silently and waited.

Finally I took her face in my hands and she looked in my eyes so I could tell her how beautiful she was. Then I went to the car for a better pair of shoes, and a sweater. The kids and I each had tucked a pair of socks in our pockets for such a time as this, so she got socks too. Wow, she smiled.

After the service, a friend who had joined us for her first time at the park, took my young lady to Target. Later on she called to say that the girl had broken down sobbing in the store when she realized that we ladies knew she was a prostitute but cared about her anyway.

The big thing here among the homeless in Mississippi is they want to know if the church people are real. I overheard one tell another to go to the yellow house because they are "sincere, they are for real." Folks just want us to be real.