The Morris Street House...

After classes today, I got a cup of coffee and did some homework at a local coffee shop. Afterwards, as I was driving back to school, I spontaneously decided to turn down a side street that I had never been on. I continued driving, turning, and exploring the poor side of my city. I just drove around, not far, meandering around the old city streets I've never been through. I saw Anderson in its antiquity. I saw Anderson in its original design. I saw Anderson for what it was, instead of always seeing it for how it is. I've lived here for eleven years, and I've never seen this secret side of the city before. Even though it's a growing city that is becoming more and more urbanized and mechanic, its rusted hinges are still there. . Then, a thought hit me. Just like the old buildings I was seeing in the midst of Anderson's growing suburb, there were also hurting, poor, and worn out people in the midst of those who are leading healthy, happy lives. Another thought plagued my mind. Why don't I do something about this? Why do we let the old, intricately designed houses rust and crumble under the weight of the years? Why do we allow people to hurt and die alone without ever knowing of the love of a friend? Why do I not reach out to the people waiting around instead of watching them grow old and tired inside these buildings? Why do I allow them to be lonely?

I kept driving, going slower and slower so I could look around me. I turned down a side street lined with trees when I saw it. It looked like a small plantation home that had been moved and plopped right in the middle of a street. It had steep green steps leading to the front door and set off the house as if it were on an incline. The first step was about twelve feet from the street. It had a narrow walkway separating the weed exposed yard. It was a wooden house painted white with long front windows. It had shabby, soiled cream colored curtains in the broken window pains. It was abandoned. I gently pressed my brake and sat there for a couple of minutes. There it was, amidst all I had seen, right in the center of Anderson's poor. This house that had once been beautiful, was now left alone to suffer alone the weight of years left uncared for. It was angled to the right of two beautiful brick Churches (what had caught my attention in the first place). My mind flooded with the possibilities this house could hold. Children, orphans, unwed mothers, a meal house, a gathering place for helping the needy...a home. This house was in need of repair, but its potential for ministry was unmistakably obvious. It was old, yet to me it seemed full of hope staring at me from across the street. It needed someone to take advantage of its character and potential, and I was craving for something that needed me. Why couldn't I be the one to unveil this ministry. Why can't I be the one to move into it and begin work. Why can't I be that servant? Why would it be so hard?

It would be hard because it would be unexpected in my society for a young woman to leave her college education and commit her years towards helping those in her own community. People might encourage me in my endeavors or even comment on "my compassionate heart" But, still, their hearts might pity me and wonder what I was thinking. It would be strange..it would be considered taboo.

It would be frightening. I would have to ask people to live with me and help me in this ministry, who would do that? It would be stupid. Move to the dangerous side of a city, invite complete strangers to come into your home and sleep or have dinner? Take care of children who may be homeless, parent less, sick, unstable, or disabled? Be vulnerable to the elements of the meanest of society?

why not?

Why not just take a chance and dive into something for the glory of God? Why not just sacrifice my own comfort and other people's expectations for once? Why not just be vulnerable to the will of God for once? Why not actually just DO something instead of talking about it? Why not? That is what my heart is screaming.

This is perhaps the hundredth example of God pulling my heart towards missions. I just "happened" to find my way to a blog about a 20 year old girl moving to Uganda and becoming a missionary mother to over a dozen girls. I just "happened" to become interested in a missions trip to Israel and talked to my cousin who went and the director about the possibilities. I just "happened" to get word of a missions trip to Kentucky the weekend of spring break. I just "happened" to hear many songs, sermons, and quotes about "going forth" and preaching the word of God. I just "happened" to be doing a book report on Lottie Moon and loving every piece of literature I read about her. I just "happened" to hear of an opportunity for teachers to go to China through an organization called ETA that invites Americans to teach conversational English to the Chinese, all expenses paid for and it will be a paying job! I just "happen" to no longer feel as though I fit into the college life and atmosphere. I just "happen" to feel quite alone and uncomfortable with the life I am leading. I just "happen" to be convicted by every scripture telling me to sell all my belongings and go and be a disciple for Christ and spread His love to the nations. I just "happened" to decide to drive around the bad part of Anderson in hopes of being enlightened to the world around me. I am only twenty, and already my heart is burdened for the depravity of the world I live in. The lives I encounter, and the hurt I see at every corner. Already I am quite tired of the sin I commit and see committed. Already I am distraught over the number of Christians who live comfortably and without sacrifice for the sake of leading others to Christ - myself I include in this all.

So, what do I do? What do I do with all these ideas? What do I do with these convictions? What do I do about the hurting people? What do I do about the house on Morris street?

I'm not yet sure. But, I do know that I can no longer continue ignoring these blatant signs the Lord has given me. I believe the Lord brought me to the Morris Street house to show me the potential that my life holds and what He is waiting for me to realize. No, I don't think that I am supposed to make rash decisions and go move into an abandoned house and adopt orphans, but I do think its time I make some sacrifices in my life. Even still, they won't be sacrifices...because I have given my life to the glory of Him. My life is not my own, and I fully accept that. I am happy for that!

"Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world." James 1:27

So, He asks us to visit orphans and widows in their distress. He never says when, He never says the order in which we are supposed to do things. "Finish college, then act on the Holy Spirit's leading." I feel this is the mentality that I am often encountering. Somehow, we have to finish our checklist before we can begin our Lord's. Perhaps this is what was meant by "unstained by the world" as well. Maybe instead of always assuming the world's sin and chaos causes staining, it could also mean the world's standards and expectations of ourselves.

I let go of the brake and coasted further into the road, turning right, and leaving the house behind. Just then, the bells from the nearby church began ringing bright and cheery through the air, through the rubbish of this city, and this world. A sign of hope, of renewal, and of grace.



Lady in Waiting