A Journey to Mars

About to wrap up my third full week working at Mars Hill full time. its going really well. Its really weird and overwhelming to think I still have over 11 months of living in this environment of faith building intensity.

Construction is going well. The floor upstairs is done, stained and sealed that is... most of the paint both upstairs and downstairs is done besides some touch up here and there. The electrical and plumbing is going in surely and steadily. Next week I am going to begin building the welcome/reception desk and the coffee bar in the kitchen area. I am learning a lot and I enjoy working with the other contractors.

Recently I have been most weighed, or convicted... Im not sure which, with the blatant physical reality of sin made apparent to me through the constant encounters with the broken and lost people of the community surrounding our building. Across the street from us is a 'Latino day workers' crowd of about 30 guys. Most of these guys are homeless and inclined to addictions like alcohol and pot. They work a couple hours a day to make enough to buy a beer or a joint, then disperse to the areas in which they sleep, housing or otherwise. Ive met a couple of them, one whose name is Ramone. Eric and I were moving lumber into the building when he ran across the street and just started helping us without saying a word. We asked him his name and told him he was welcome to help although we couldn't pay him. He helped for a while and as we began to talk he shared that he had been to church before and his sister taught children's Sunday school. We asked him if he had shelter and if he had any contacts in the area. He said he slept under the I-5 bridge and he hadn't spoken to his family in 4 years. Eric asked him if he knew his sister's phone number, he said yes... Eric asked if he would like to call her, he said she would probably be shocked to hear from him, Eric took out his phone and asked for the number, he gave it to Eric, he dialed and handed the phone to Ramone and we waited for someone to answer. No one did. Ramone handed back the phone and had tears in his eyes. He wouldnt open up much but admitted he missed his family. We told him that he was welcome anytime. He asked if we would pray for him and we did. We bought him a sandwich for lunch and gave him some bus passes. He's come back a couple times and we chat, this morning he waved from across the street and I waved back. He ran across and the first thing he said was "Im still alive." The way these guys depend on others for their daily provision really challenges me, whether I agree with their means or purpose of getting money, it reminds me that even I should be thankful "Im still alive."

I met another man named Amadou. We were trying to meet our deadline with some sandblasting work and ended up working straight through the night. It was two in the morning and I was taking a break standing in front of our front doors. he walked up and in a thick African accent asked if i could give him 5 bucks to buy a pack of cigarettes, he also said he was willing to work. I asked him if he was hungry because I may be able to give him some food but he said that he wasn't hungry and just wanted some cigarettes. We talked some more and he ended up telling me that he was a political refugee from Zambia in Africa. He had been in the US for 3 years and had until recently been working as a street cleaner for the city of Seattle. Six weeks ago he was laid off and subsequently lost his apartment. he had been sleeping at the local mission but couldn't get a bunk that night. He worked with us until 6 that morning and he was actually a very hard worker. I paid him 20 bucks and he was blown away that I would be that generous. I told him it was 5 bucks an hour and that was less than minimum wage! He must have said "God Bless You" about 50 times. I told him he could come hang out anytime he wanted and he did a couple days later. He got warm and took a nap in our office before heading out to get a bunk at the mission. Eric gave him a bible before he left.

In the last month Ive seen guys peeing on the sidewalks, women crying in ally ways and on street corners, wailing in despair, Ive seen drug deals go down and the shooting up that follows. Ive heard gunshots and seen people curled up next to buildings and under freeway passes. Ive cleaned up human feces in the ally behind our church. Ive been approached on a daily basis with people asking for change, food and blankets. I do what I can in the moment and later just hold my head in my hands and pray. Needless to say that Jesus is showing me amazing things and the physical representation of sin I see around me reminds me even more of how dark my nature really is and without Jesus, how ugly and wicked my soul would be. The despair I encounter daily reminds of the cross and the anguish and dashed hopes that entailed, but also of the redemption. The work that was done through the horrible suffering of Jesus is a saving work, a work that has saved me from my deserved penalties and has now enabled me to share this glorious news with people such as Ramone and Amadou. When I see the despair on the streets I remember that Jesus wants to redeem these people as well, and that is my purpose. I am where I am and I walk the streets I walk because Jesus has called me to be His light in a dark place, a messenger of hope in a world of tribulation. I'll forever be learning what this means but for right now I believe I'm in the best place I can be to learn: Planting a church in Seattle; Mars Hill Downtown.

Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out! Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor? Who has ever given to God, that God should repay him? For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be the glory forever! Amen. -Romans 11:33-36