Widow's Mites.

I held the cash loosely in my hand, touched by the man's generosity. Tall, well-built, clean cut, he offered only a first name, saying he was part of a ministry down the street. Delighted to meet a fellow minister in the service of Christ, I tried to remember if I had heard of it before. I was mildly confused as he explained the gift he had just slipped into my hand came from a small weekly stipend - his only source of income. Most ministries are able to compensate their leaders appropriately if they ask for full commitment. 

  

The lobby of the church cleared out as people hurried home to cook dinner or find a table at their favorite restaurant. My stomach growled, reminding me of the time. I was privileged to talk about my ministry with ICI during the morning service and had been meeting people afterwards. One of the things I learned growing up: the missionary nearly always leaves last. In a way, I felt I was carrying on a family legacy. I packed up my brochures and prayer cards as I waited for the family who had invited me to lunch.

I opened my hand discreetly and unfolded the gift. Two dollar bills sat in my palm. My curious thoughts suddenly stilled and tears welled in my eyes. What he had told me and snippets of conversation from those around me connected as it dawned on me. This man was not a leader in the ministry. He was part of the ministry, a transition ministry that helps people get back on their feet from the living on the streets or in prison. He was only given a few dollars a week, yet he gave to me, to God's work through ICI. The widow and her two mites rose in my mind and I heard Christ's words of approval, "this poor widow has put in more than all the others." 

I am so humbled. 

Do two dollars even make a difference? Yes. They make all the difference in the world. 

Glimpse into a Support Raising Day.

I pick up the phone. Put it down again. Open Facebook, start scrolling - No. The little red 'x' flashes briefly as I shut the window. Make the phone call. I pick up the phone, open 'Contacts,' stare at the name.  My stomach clenches to contain the butterflies, fear prickling at the nape of my neck. Breathe. Deep breaths. Dear God... Prayer momentarily emboldens me and I press 'Call.' It rings once, I hold my breath. Twice. I berate myself for my fear, slipping into Spanish to shake the tension and refocus. Three times. Please go to voice mail. Please. Please. 

The outcome after this varies. If the call goes to voice mail, I breathe a sigh of relief, leave a brief message and wonder how many days I should wait before calling back. If the phone is answered, I try to sound confident and not fumble over my words as I ask if I could share with them the ministry I will be doing with Inner City Impact. The moment I end the call I dance around and praise God. I did it. I did my part, opened the door. The rest is easy: I love telling stories of my time with ICI and how I see God at work. After that it's all up to God, there's no need for me to be anxious about the result. I sit down again and look at my list. Do I have to make another phone call? Maybe I could eat lunch. They're probably busy anyway. But you don't know if you don't ask, don't make up excuses for them. I pick up the phone.

"What's the worst that can happen? They say 'No?'" Intellectually, I know that what happens doesn't matter, it shouldn't affect me. And honestly I really am fine when someone can't support me financially. I know God will provide in another way. And I totally understand if they are already committed to others and can't join my prayer team. 

So what do I fear? 

People's opinion. 

I desperately want to be of good repute. To be known as a responsible, mature woman in Christ who cares deeply about others. I fear the false assumption that I only care about the money, that I look at people as a commodity that will enable me to not work. "Don't you understand these are unstable times? How do you have the gall to ask me to support you, why don't you just get a job and do ministry on the side? What about unreached people groups and orphaned children in Africa, why are you working in the States?" These are the words I fear. I constantly remind myself I am inviting others to join in the ministry God clearly led me to, not burdening them. 

Paul boldly asked varying churches to send him and frequently commended those who had. The churches of Macedonia "gave beyond their means, begging us earnestly for the favor of taking part in the relief of the saints... As you [church of Corinth] excel in everything... see that you excel in this act of grace also." - 2 Corinthians 8. 

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. 

These words spoken through the prophet Isaiah whisper through my soul. I dismiss the lies of discouragement, whether they come from me or the enemy. And I continue in the path laid out before me, inviting others to be God's instruments in Chicago. 

I am compelled.

For Christ's love  compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all... that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again... God reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting men's sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. 2 Cor 5: 14-15,18-19.

These verses  aptly describe my own feelings.  I am compelled, something is driving me forward and I can do nothing less. If I have knowledge of the fear of the LORD, how can I not share it with others? 

The idea of reconciliation is exciting and awe-filled to me. Christ did not come just to help us escape judgment (just though judgment would be), upon receiving salvation we are not placed in a state of neutrality, but are brought into right relationship with God. What was irreparably broken has been overwhelmed by the blood of Christ. And, clothed in Christ Jesus, we stand before God - reconciled and confident (Heb. 10:19).

I look out into the world and see myriad broken relationships. Between friends, lovers, families. Between governments and their people, from nation to nation. All of these reflect the state of man's severed relationship with his God. This is so prevalent in Chicago. The murder count in January was 42. In a single month, a span of 31 days. This year I have felt overwhelmed by death, and long more deeply than ever for the return of my Lord. Come soon, Lord Jesus! I just want to go Home. But until that day, people still cry out, lash out, work out their wickedness and live out their broken relationship without God. I see young people, so many young people, angry, bitter, frightened, hurt, lonely. Trying to fix it, fill it, or make things right only makes things worse - drugs, violence, gangs, sex.  The hope, assurance and joy I have through Christ in a right standing with God - this must be shared. 

Death is a separation. And so, when we are spiritually dead, it is separation from God, a gap that we cannot even desire to cross without His leading. But He has given me life - union with Christ, reconciling me to himself. Those of us who live must no longer live for ourselves, but for him. And He has given us the ministry of reconciliation. I am compelled, controlled by Christ - I can do nothing less. I follow willingly, gladly, sometimes achingly. 

 I have so great a ministry, so great a message before me - God has directed me to share it alongside Inner City Impact with these broken urban youth. With so great a task before me, I can't be afraid to share it with other believers. Many are not able or led to devote the resources of time and presence, as He has called me to, but have other resources available to use in the ministry of reconciliation amidst the Chicago youth.  I can't be afraid to present this opportunity to others.

Can I?

Christ's love compels me.

This is why I go. Will you send me?