Reaping in Due Season

And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up. (Galatians 6:9 -- ESV)


I was listening on Family Talk to an interview with Steve Fitzhugh, director of The House, a ministry directed toward inner-city youth in Washington DC. Steve mentioned the impact that a church busing ministry had on his life, starting at the age of 12.  Dr.  Dobson also mentioned the influence that a church-based children's ministry had on his wife Shirley (who came from a dysfunctional home) when she was a child.  


In a previous post, I mentioned the importance of treating children from dysfunctional homes with kindness in church.  Steve and Shirley's lives were transformed, and in turn, their lives have impacted the lives of others in innumerable ways, because adults took the time to care about them and invest in their lives.  


I was so encouraged by this podcast, since so frequently I am tempted to "weary in well-doing" -- even yesterday I was feeling heavily this way. Sometimes this feeling is exacerbated by those in the Church that don't seem to want "those kinds of kids" coming to "our program".  Unfortunately we've encountered this attitude more than once. 


We've also been blessed by some children's leaders in the Church who have God's heart for "those kids".  They are willing to "stick it out" and instead of being content to just continue "blessing blessed people" they are earnestly trying to reach the ones most desperately in need of healthy, godly adult relationships and role-models.  


We have some friends, Steve and Tina, who planted a church in a low-income area of their town.  Dr. John M. Perkins, founder of the Christian Community Development Association (he's a "big-wig" in our field of ministry) visited their church.  What an honor it was for them!  Dr. Perkins told Steve that ministries like his typically don't see significant fruit for about 15 years, because the change is generational.  When we visited Steve and Tina a while back, they were at the 14 year mark and were starting to see significant fruit being produced in their work.  God had used them to build a thriving ministry made up of many adult leaders whom they had been discipling since childhood. 


Unfortunately, I think we sometimes discount the importance of spiritual investment in the life of a child -- especially those who have limited access to healthy adult role models or whose fathers are absent from the home. I know I find myself slipping into this way of thinking from time to time. In this interview with Steve Fizthugh, Dr. Dobson asked him to name the adults who had changed the trajectory of his life. 


He named the bus driver, the Sunday school teacher, the pastor, and the woman who "adopted" him on Sunday mornings by letting him sit next to her (the children were supposed to sit with their families and his family didn't come to church).  I loved that Dr. Dobson had him name these people; it really encouraged me.  To this day Steve remembered their names.  


At the end of the podcast, Steve read a song he had written about a young man named Mike.  Mike was murdered shortly after this song was written.  Steve had written the song as if Mike were telling his story. It details some of the struggles that children and youth in at-risk situations face.


Destiny
by Steve Fitzhugh


I can't hardly see the light of day 'cause misery stays in my way,
Still I dream to be free like them boys on my TV,
But every day is just the same; I'm got nothin' but pain on top of pain.
I can't escape this hopeless dream, open my mouth, but cannot scream.
So, here I am, me and my crew, not knowin' what we are to do.


The street's our only road, no other life to us was told.
Poverty ain't nothin' new; that's all I knew since I was 2.
Mom's did the best she could, struggling down here in the hood.
I'm steady hating that deadbeat dad; disappointment's all I had.
I got to face the dreadful fact, my daddy's never coming back.


Now, I gotta be a man all on my own, yet they don't want me actin' grown.
Street soldiers poppin' their Glock, young'uns keep dyin' up on my block.
I'm scared to close my eyes tonight, 'cause I'm feeling like something just ain't right.


Still I'm tryin' to speak my heart. Too bad your fear keeps us apart.
I can't believe it till I hear it. I can't hear it till you tell it.
If the truth is what you preach, won't you help this brother reach ... his destiny?


And I reminisce about all these scars; it's like I'm in prison and they're my bars.
I'm locked away from the joys of life. Am I destined for streets and strife?
Am I ever gonna win a wife? Ever gonna have a pain-free life?
Ever gonna travel around the world? Would I get another chance to raise my girl?
Will I ever sleep without this hunger? Makes me wonder, makes me wonder
Why I live in so much pain. Will I lose my mind? Will I go insane?
And when I hear the final bell, will it be heaven? Will it be hell?
Will I die when I'm in my prime? Can I ever renew my mind?Is there a God that can forgive all the wickedness I did?


I can't forgive my thugged self. Got too much pride to cry for help.
Facts too hard for me to admit. If it don't fit, you must acquit.
But if my record were true and right, I ought to be serving double life.
They should have thrown away the jailhouse key for the sins locked up inside of me.


No solution for my drama; I'm too old to run to Mamma.
I want to change. How do I pray it? How many times do I got to say it?
You've got sight; why can't you see it? Without you, will I ever achieve it? What? My destiny.


Still I choose to go on. Gotta survive. I've gotta stay strong.
How many times I said, "That's it." How many times I wanted to quit.
Like when Shorty broke my heart, I was true blue right from the start.
"Why me," I had to plead. Gave love a chance and still I bleed.
Regret I wasted time. True that all the blame was mine.


They tell me today's another day; they tell me it's not too late to change.
They say I can still redeem my life; they say there's a way to walk upright.
But when I close my eyes real tight, I'm still seeing demons in the night.


I'm ready to pay about any price just to get a little peace back in my life,
Like the time when we was young, me and my homeys just havin' fun.
Sometimes I want to go way back when; sometimes I want to upstart again.
No more thug life under them street lights. No more sadness. No more sin.


Wish you could help me find my way, 'cause I'm living in fear of Judgment Day.
Even the clock's my enemy, 'cause everybody dyin' look just like me.
It's like my grip is about to slip; it's like I'm down to my last clip.
I'm dodging shadows, but they was mine. Don't let me die before I find ... my destiny.

Nancy's Freedom

We had a dear friend pass away a few weeks ago.  This was a lady who was the mother of a friend of ours and who stayed with us for a week last summer while we were trying to find her a home.  She had lived a hard life, and that life had really taken its toll on her body.  It was really a shock, though, to hear of her passing.  Every week when my husband and I would go to meet with her daughter and son-in-law, we would see her.  She was in a lot of pain, but always greeted us with a smile and a hug.  She usually wanted us to pray for her.  We would often pray for God to heal her and to take the pain away.  We would also pray that God would draw her closer to Him and that she would experience His peace and comfort.

Nancy had made a confession of faith in Jesus many years ago.  Though she had a lot of struggles in her life, I am grateful for the time we got to spend with her during the week she stayed with us, because I was able to see evidence of a sincere faith in Christ.

Nancy loved to sit outside on our deck everyday and watch the wildlife. One day, while we were outside, a yellow butterfly flew past us.  Nancy smiled and said,"Freedom . . . a butterfly represents freedom."  At that time, Nancy didn't have a lot of freedom.  She had no home, and she couldn't stay with any relatives in town because of legal reasons.  Furthermore, she was trapped in a body with physical disabilities that prevented her from living the life she longed to live.  She also had a limited income that prevented her from doing things she wanted to do.  A free spirit by every sense of the word, she wanted her freedom more than anything.

Nancy had really made an impact on my kids, especially Emma. I have never seen her grieve so deeply about anyone's death before. The day she passed away, Emma composed the following poem about Nancy.


Nancy’s Freedom
By "Emma"

Not long ago, you and I
Sat on our porch on a day in July.
You stopped conversation when you saw a yellow butterfly.
“Freedom” you whispered as a smile crossed your face.
“A butterfly can go anywhere, can go anyplace.”
You didn’t stay at our house long, to the hospital you went.
Your words impressed upon my heart and there they left a dent.

What is this concept, freedom? Why do we want it so?
A teenager from his fathers house and a toddler from his clothes;
The addict from addiction, The beaten from abuse;
A prisoner wants no prison, the felon wants to be loosed;
The slave wants no more bondage, the suicidal wants no pain;
They do all they can for liberty, and freedom to obtain.

You had little freedom in that hospital bed.
We brought you a card, you smiled and nodded your head.
Seeing the butterflies on the card, “Freedom” is what you said.
I was leaving for Kentucky on the Forth of July,
“Now remember,” you said “Don’t leave without telling me goodbye.”
I said I wouldn’t dream of doing so,
So before I left I stopped by and let you know.

Months came and months went
Weeks far from home were spent.
Your family and mine came to visit you.
It was filled with laughter and Taco Bell, and strange smells from the baby too.
“Freedom” I thought, that is what you crave,
But not to go wherever, but to see your family everyday.

You came back home and many weeks were spent.
You were here for Easter and for most of Lent.
I didn’t get to see you since you’d been at home,
And I didn’t get to talk to you before you left the world I roam.

You used to pray everyday for God to make things good,
To do away with the things you couldn’t and give you things you could.
But God made things perfect, but not the way we thought He would.
I know you would not have believed us had we told you He would do it this way,
But I know that now you are happy in that perfect place.
You now have no more pain, you are in His Kingdom.
He didn’t make things tolerable, but instead He gave you freedom.

But if you were here I’d say (or at least I’d try),
When I think freedom I think of you and not the butterfly.