enemy

This is a song that's been in my heart since last night. This is in response to what happened while on our way to love park.

Enemy
© Justin McRoberts 2002 Five Foot Six and a Half Music (ASCAP)


It’s amazing just how much i look like the enemy
his hatred looks so much like the hate inside of me

i’ve fallen like so many fools my age
throwing stones at all who cross me
i won’t become a victim of my rage
Lord, give me love for the enemy

It’s expected that if you swing you’ll find me swinging back
the exception is in the greatness i so clearly lack

i will learn to see you where you said you’d be
in the least of these; in my enemies

birds eye view

To be honest, it felt awkward recording our outing two nights ago, because our ministry isn't about capturing the glitz and glamor of helping out the "needy." We're about connecting with our community and sharing in the grace of God with our brothers and sisters. However, standing behind the camera, you begin to see things through a different lens. You see things as others in the park - who aren't part of Diakonos or the homeless community - see things. You see a group of individuals who have an indescribable spark about them, a genuine compassion to love their community. It was a blessing to see everyone from a birds eye view and, in some ways, the view from which God must see things.

Quick Update:

Just received a phone call tonight from an old friend from Love Park. I don't know how many of you know Yeehaa, aka Vernon, from Bermuda but he gave me a ring and had wanted to see if we were out tonight, just so he could stop by and say hi before catching the train home. We chatted a bit and he told me that he's probably going back home, as in Bermuda home, at the end of the year. Right now he's living with a woman named China who has some mental instabilities. They're wonderful to each other in terms of support and encouragement. I asked if he was going to take her with him back home, and he says that although he wants to, he's not sure if it'll be a possibility. He's asking for much prayer and wanted to remind everyone here that we're always on his mind.

09.20.10/09.27.10: Watusi

Sorry everyone for this hyper delayed post.

There's a dance called Watusi it's out of sight / First you slide to the left, then to the right / Two steps forward; keep the rhythm tight / There's a dance called Watusi, and it's a sight.


"You got it?  You got??  Come on, Krystal...let's try it...you're our leader!!"  My brothers urged me.

I'll be honest.  I was really tired, from not having been able to sleep, and with the excitement and anxiousness of the beginning of the semester, a thousand things were on my mind.  I love singing, but I did not feel like singing that evening.  My brothers at the park kept urging me to join them.  I wasn't confident.  Although their smiles and the emotions conveyed and displayed on their faces when they sang showed me nothing but pure joy, I was taken back to my early days of voice lessons when I was too shy to sing with all that my being held.

Leonard and the other guys were as encouraging as anyone could have ever been.  Teaching me the notes, modeling and singing for me where so I would know where my voice would place, and constantly being positive, I could not have asked for anything more.

When we were all done, I talked with Leonard and Ben for a little while more while Dupree went back to the bench to talk with one of the other brothers at the park.  I told them that I hadn't sung a capella in so long, and during my simple conversation with Leonard about singing earlier, I had not anticipated having to sing with them, and really did not know that they would even want me to sing with them.  It wasn't until Leonard quickly hobbled with his walking stick over to Ben when I realized he was serious.  Seeing Ben's face completely light up when he heard I sang was even more confirmation.  They called Dupree to join in later, and by then, there was no doubt in my mind that these brothers really meant business: they loved singing, they sing together, and they wanted me to sing with them.

I wish words could describe just how great they were.  Their harmonies were tight and their energy simply exuded with every syllable they sang.  Looking them in the eyes while they sang, I saw all the hurt, despair, discomfort, loneliness, and brokenness etched in their faces slowly disappearing.  Their eyes glistened and shone with a light that I had never seen in a long time.  All baggage had been put aside, all for the sake of creating good music, and all for the sake of love.  I realized, I needed to do that, too.  Christ's love was simply poured out, and the roles were reversed: there I stood, empty-handed, intent on showing them Christ's love, and there they were pouring it out onto me.

I saw Dupree the following week in the underground area, and he was nothing but joyful.  His face lit up when he saw me approach him and the first thing he said was, "Hey, Krystal!!! You ready??  You got your part down??!  Let's give it a shot!!  Let's go!!!"  There was that smile, that unmistakable smile.  He kept reminding me that before they met me, they would always sing together, but none of the other guys that they had met had the range or capability to sing the highest part, until they met me.  I wanted to say to him that until I met him and the other guys, I had never felt the Holy Spirit moving so strongly in the midst of music making.  Instead, I just smiled and asked if he were serious about us singing right at that moment.  He was only half-kidding; he added that he didn't want to show disrespect for the guy who was playing the guitar, but his joy and his love was so strong, I could not help but be joyful and praise God for such a great brother.

These events, though not entirely extensive, will be memories that I will store away forever.  The unmistakable presence of the Holy Spirit being in the center of our tight circle at the park, and the unmistakable presence of the Holy Spirit conversing with Dupree and I, and even as we prayed was so surreal, yet so real.  God was there.  He's working in their lives...I could see it and I could feel it.  Music making, as powerful as it is, is nothing without the sovereignty of the Holy One.  Use me, Lord, to be a light in the darkest night.  I have seen this in action, and seek even more to live this out.

9.27

"We're going in. On Thursday most likely, or maybe Friday. Larry and I got a place."

It's part of this way of life, this isn't their home, they're nomads. I knew these things all too well but I couldn't help but feel a little surprised. After seeing and speaking to Tasha for the last couple of weeks, I had created this expectancy of meeting up with her again. After arriving at Love Park, I had scanned the faces to find familiarity. But familiarity doesn't dwell there, it shouldn't. I forget that seeing my friends week after week means little to no progress, no opportunity, no home, no comfort.

A few weeks ago, as we were wrapping up Diakonos for the night, a woman broke into our circle and asked us for prayer. She grabbed her husband's arm and yanked him into the circle looking and waiting for our reply. We readily said yes and asked for what she wanted prayer.

"Oh, where to start! Everything, a home, a job, an opportunity."

That's when I met Tasha and Larry. They're wonderful to talk to and filled with stories from their past. She was a paralegal for eight years with a firm in Philadelphia. Three years ago, she was forced to resign because of a bipolar disorder.

"I fell apart when they came to get my car and my house."

She was smiling when I spoke to her though, anticipating the end of the week. Here is a place where goodbye often means better news than hello.

Thoughts on my first time

Hey guys,

I just wanted to thank you guys for allowing Dreamcatchers to help out with Diakonos around 2 months ago. It was a great experience for me personally and I think it was really good to get outside the Penn bubble I usually find myself wrapped in. It was nice to do some of God's work outside the context of school and I really enjoyed the time we spent at Love Park

I remember the only person that I spoke at length with was a guy named Joe Clemons. Kathryn and I had the privilege of talking to him and I thought we had a great conversation. He didn't look like a smart guy but he knew a lot of stuff from his time as a TV repairman. He also showed us a couple of drawings for some of the inventions that he had in mind and then he drew a portrait of both Kathryn and I. Goes to show that you can't judge a book by its cover. I was glad that I had the chance to get to know him as well as the chance to pray for him. It was hard for me to pray for him because I don't pretend to know what its like to be homeless but I hope my prayers gave him a bit of hope.

Before I knew it, 2 hours had passed and it was time to go. However, looking back on my experience, I realized that I didn't get to talk to all the people that I gave sandwiches to; as they all swarmed me within the first 5-10 minutes of our arrival. I didn't have much of an opportunity to share anything related to Christ, as they would leave as soon as they received their brown bags. I was thinking that maybe a gospel track could be included in the paper bags, or at least contact info so that they know how to get to GCC? It would be a pity if they didn't know we were doing this because of God's love for them. Maybe you guys already thought of this but I just wanted to bring up the idea in case you guys haven't.

Thanks again and I'll see all you guys this upcoming school year!

Jabez

on repeat

"Talking never got nobody nowhere."  He kept repeating that, every time we reached a difficult point in the conversation.  "You bring out your sandwiches, your warm bottles of water... but you can't get us out of here.  No one can.  Nothing can."

"I don't think it can happen overnight..."

"I've had people come out here and pray for me for three years... ain't fixed anything.  I'm still in the same situation."

"Change takes time..."

"Three years is long enough."

Déjà vu. I've had this same conversation with this same man before.  We may be sitting in the cool air of the fountain of Philadelphia's name-sake park tonight, but he's lower than he was when I first met him in the underground concourse-- a kind of oxymoronic homeless village.  Not only is he homeless, he is hopeless.  He's beyond feeling desperate; he's clinging to nothing but despair.

"I may have never been homeless, but I've been through my own 'situations' and difficulties... they're different, I know, but the struggle is the same..."

"You'd have to be homeless to know what it's like."

"I realize that, but what I'm saying is maybe it's not the situation, maybe it's something deeper than that, beyond the physical.  Maybe it is a spiritual thing.  Maybe the situation is with you, not with 'this.'"

Hit and sink.  Here was this fifty-year-old black man, happily enjoying the night air and a little food.  He didn't mind sitting alone, picking through his thoughts.  But then comes this Christian, this ideal-driven college brat, thinking she can pray for him and love him and and tell him that his life is in shambles because he can't bear to look at his own soul.  Who does she think she is to downsize his three years of agony into some sort of spiritual shenanigan?

He threw his backpack over a shoulder and poured out his water into one of those pathetic cement pots clogging up the middle of the park.  He said something, similar to same sad lines he'd had on repeat before.  I replied and said his name, thinking that'd make my own refrain stick harder, "K--, I hope you get out of this.  I hope to see you happy some day."

God, I really do.  If I can't accomplish anything, let me at least hope.  May he learn to hope too.