My day began with a ride to the end of the tram line. As I walked up to the dilapidated “dorm” where Tanya lives, children and stray dogs ran through a dusty yard. Upon entering the building my eyes roamed over dressers, cabinets, and various odds and ends stuffed throughout the hallways. I climbed a steep stairway to reach the second floor where my hosts awaited me.

The last stop on the tram where my day with Tanya began.

A light knock and the door was opened wide by Mila. Her face held a welcoming smile and she excitedly motioned my translator and me in. Mila lives with her wheelchair bound daughter, Tanya, who has cerebral palsy. Tanya’s cousin also lives with them, and the three share a home in the “dorm.”

The dorm is an old building that once housed local factory workers. The people there share a community bathroom and kitchen with the rest of their floor. Tanya’s home consists of two small rooms, one of which all three women sleep in every night. The room I walked into was crammed with chairs, couches, cabinets, a table, and a small refrigerator.

We began our day with a walk around the “neighborhood.” Now, before you envision long winding sidewalks, grassy lawns, and cul-de-sacs let me explain the location.

The dorm where Tanya and her mother live.

We walked by crumbling buildings that used to be some of the finest factories in the region. We trudged down cracked sidewalks and roads that were once pathways for droves of laborers. We stopped to sit by a formerly beautiful fountain, now a cement trash pit.

But Tanya didn’t seem fazed by her neighborhood’s appearance. She didn’t seem put-out by the fact that her wheelchair could barely be pushed along the rutted path. Instead she smiled and laughed as she shared this piece of her life with me.

After our journey we went back to the dorm for lunch. Mila came down and gathered three strong men from the dorm to carry Tanya up the steep stairway. As the men lifted Tanya up the stairs I realized how important community is to Tanya and her mother. Without community, Tanya wouldn’t be able to leave her home.

Mila shared over dinner this need for strong community. Some of the people in the dorm are helpful and understanding of Tanya’s disability. Men are willing to carry Tanya up the stairs as I had witnessed.

But some are not. One woman even forbade her son from helping Tanya. My mind reeled. How could someone be so inconsiderate? But Tanya and Mila didn’t seem to harbor any hard feelings toward them. They persist in living out God’s command to love your neighbor as yourself.

One of the abandoned factories in the “neighborhood.”

In fact, Tanya told us about a girl in the dorm who comes over and makes fun of Tanya because of her disability. When people ask Tanya why she allows the girl to come over, Tanya replies, “We’re all sinful. Christ forgave me, I’ll forgive her.”

At one point during dinner Tanya asked me a question that I found rather strange. “Who are your favorite people? Pretty people or ugly people?” I was taken off guard and said something about how I didn’t have a preference.

“Good,” said Tanya, “my mom and I like all people too.” Mila agreed and added, “Outward appearance doesn’t matter. They were all created in the image of God.” Here I was sitting in a tiny, little dorm eating a humble meal with people who were speaking and living the truth of Christ.

I learned a lot from Tanya that day. She spends her life dependent upon the help others give her. She could be resentful and angry about the life she has been given. But instead she focuses on the most valuable thing on this earth. People.

Tanya working on some crafts we brought for her.

That’s why the dilapidated buildings and crumbling sidewalks bothered me but didn’t bother Tanya. Tanya was focused on spending time with me. She couldn’t care less if her neighborhood meets Better Homes and Gardens’ standards.

By the time I left the next morning, I no longer felt any sadness about Tanya’s living conditions. Tanya is rich in the kingdom of God. She understands the value of people, something I too often forget.

Instead of running around all day doing meaningless things, she is focused on building the community of God. It doesn’t matter that Tanya spends most of her days at home in the dorm. She is busy building God’s kingdom and seeing the value in His children all around her.

And what could be more meaningful then that?

When I was first told that I was going to go with the ladies to another village to listen in on one of the abstinence talks, I almost felt uncomfortable. This word had an interesting tinge to it in my mind. It was a slightly different take on the well known ‘no sex before marriage’ mantra that has been drilled into my head since birth from various Christian communities. But at the same time I knew that, at least in the United States, abstinence programs were often ineffective and dull (and occasionally received a good eye-roll).

I was confused. It is obvious why a crisis pregnancy center would speak about abstinence. That seems completely logical to me. But is this really the most effective way to be teaching about sex to a group of people? Won’t everyone snicker and become bitter about being told what to do?

The counselors from Mission to Ukraine travel around to local villages to inform women on the harmful medical affects of birth control and abortion.

I decided to figure out the reasoning behind the program by talking to an important group of people that the program is aimed at – the youth.

My camp interpreter and I have become friends.  She is my age, so I decided to sit down with her and her friend and ask them some general questions to get a feel on the cultural ideals floating around young people in Ukraine.

Now, I realize that I can only look at this from the perspective that I know: my own. And whether or not Ukrainian ideals are the same as the American ones, it still seemed an interesting comparison to make and a good way to sort out my thoughts.

So, as we sat around on the beds in their room, I asked them different questions about what they believe.  For example, what does the general public think about different things such as birth control, STDs, and abortion?

Most schools here have a sex education class every year, but most kids get their information from the Internet and television. My interpreter said that people are interested in the process of sex, but not in any of the consequences because no one thinks anything bad will happen to them.

Several MTU billboards and posters can be seen around Zhytomyr, getting the word out to the whole city.

She said that overall, people are not well educated because they really don’t care, taking on the mindset that ‘it will never happen to me.’ She threw in an interesting phrase that explained where this mindset might have originated (apparently it’s a common one used throughout Ukraine and the surrounding countries): “There was no sex in the Soviet Union, there was love.”

She then explained what it meant.  There were no movies, music, books, information or talk on sex in the Soviet era.  While it is not the same anymore, many people here still consider anything related to sexuality a conversational taboo.

My interpreter and her friends explained that most girls are okay with abortion, even though they might think that they’d never do it. In Zhytomyr, abortions are readily available, only needing parental consent if you’re under 16.  They only cost $25.

The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I remember hearing the talk that was given to the group of women I visited in the village. Instead of Sveta standing in front of everyone and condemning them to hell if they have sex outside of marriage, she was actually helping them.

She talked about the consequences of different birth control methods, and explained the lies and myths that float around society about women’s health and other issues. She was aiding women in making better life decisions, not commanding them from on high.

So much of what we learn as children growing up in the church becomes cliché and lackluster as times goes on.

That’s when I realized why MTU takes this approach and how it is effective. Educating women on the medical effects of abortion and various birth control methods is a way to not only reduce the number of abortions, but to improve these women’s lives.

Since I’ve come to this understanding, I’ve realized that MTU’s mission is quite remarkable. Thought it may seem hopeless at times, seeing someone fight for what they believe in has given me a new perspective on hope. Their odds don’t deter them, they only push them further, to go above and beyond in how they love and care for other human beings.

As I see the effect that this mission is having on the community here in Zhytomyr, it is continually becoming clearer that God is at work in people’s hearts. He has the power to drastically change lives and He uses His people to do so. He’s doing it all over the world. As I watch this play out before my own eyes, I can only hope that He would use me in a similar way.

And if you choose allow God to use you, to work and serve for the same cause, you’ll be able to feel the encouragement and the truth found in spurring each other on.

And when the body of Christ is fighting for something as a whole, who on earth is to say that it can’t be overcome?

This is the lush greenery of the Carpathian Mountains, the pride and joy of Ukraine.

I’ve always been independent but this seemed a bit extreme, even for me.  I was getting ready to take what would be a twenty-one hour train ride clear across the country on my own, sans translator, to join up with kids and leaders from The Haven at the Azov Sea.

I’ve never been so happy to see a train station in my whole life.

The wooden bench was hard and the armrests prevented me from laying out, so I sort of leaned over as much as I could, letting those armrests dig their way into my ribs.  This, coupled with the fact that I was worried someone might try to steal my backpack out from under me, meant I woke up every ten minutes or so.  And the army dudes who kept waking me up, angrily asking to see me passport didn’t help either.  The sleep wasn’t exactly restful but it kept my body going.<

In the morning, I stumbled out of the station in search of food.  I found kiosks selling chips and sodas and other snacks.  All I wanted was some yogurt.  After half an hour of searching, I settled for a Ukrainian hot dog, complete with ketchup, mayonnaise, corn, and shredded garlic carrots.  I washed it down with a fifty-cent espresso.  Breakfast of champions for sure. 

Five minutes later I found some yogurt at another kiosk.  Oh irony.

I grabbed a couple of sandwiches at random from one of the endless kiosks, a bag of beef flavored chips, a small pack of cookies, and a two-liter bottle of water.  With my meals in hand, I hopped on my train.

I was riding in a cabin with three other people, a Ukrainian granny, gramps, and granddaughter.  I was in one of the top bunks and quickly scrambled up once the fam arrived.  The adults looked at me distrustfully and muttered something under their breath but the little girl, probably around 8 years old, just smiled at me and continued singing.  The only time she stopped was when she fell asleep.

When you spend twenty-one hours lying on a train bunk, with no one to talk to, you start thinking. 

The sea almost always has a calming effect on me. I found out that the Azov Sea is no exception to this rule.

Oh sure, I listened to music and read some books, but I had plenty of time to just process.  And what I kept coming back to, over and over, was that it seemed the natural reaction to start whining and griping about the bits of this experience that weren’t that enjoyable.

And just when I thought that I might start making a mental list of all the hardships of this little excursion, I was struck by something.  This was a twenty-one hour trip to the sea.  Right after a retreat in the Carpathian Mountains.  I was doing things most Ukrainians can only dream about.

In just a couple of weeks I had seen more of Ukraine than most Ukrainians ever will.  I mean, I’ve met people who’ve lived their entire lives without leaving the city of Zhytomyr. 

All of a sudden, that mental list seemed childish.  I began to start making a list of the many blessings that the Lord had given me on this trip instead.

When I finally got to the sea, I was dirty, I was smelly, and I was smiling.

It was another hot day and I was honestly not motivated to even move, much less head out into the city to meet someone. But when Oksana offered to take me along on a home visit, I knew I had been offered an incredible opportunity. So I ignored the sweat dripping down my face and walked with Oksana up the street to meet Natasha.

A soviet style apartment.

Natasha is twenty years old, married, and has a baby on the way. She and her husband live with her parents because of her paralyzing disability which leaves her wheelchair bound. Her mother shares the same disability, so her father spends his days taking care of them both.

Natasha and her father pose for a picture.

It didn’t take long to arrive at the Soviet style apartment where Natasha resides. Her father wheeled her up the rutted pathway to a bench where Oksana and I sat down. He left us women to chat and Natasha’s bright smile and easy manner made me feel immediately at ease.

Natasha’s bright smile demonstrated her joy at having Oksana and I visit. Natasha does not have the luxury of walking up the street to meet with friends. And city transit is no help to those in wheelchairs. There are no ramps on any of the trams, trolleys, or buses here. Because of this Natasha spends most of her time at home in her family’s small apartment.

As the afternoon progressed we decided to all head up the street to MTU. As we neared the mission I realized what a beacon of light this ministry is in such a dark situation. With her brown eyes full of life, Natasha shared that she started participating in MTU’s ministries at age 15.

Natasha got her first Bible at an MTU camp. She came to know Christ at camp and was baptized there. She has also has gone to MTU’s classes for years and looks forward to any chance she has to be there.

One of her favorite activities at MTU is art. Natasha loves drawing, painting, and all the other creative activities MTU offers.

A ramp-less curb, one of many obstacles for someone wheelchair bound.

It was through talking with Natasha that I began to understand why MTU means so much to people here. MTU represents a taste of independence and acceptance for those with disabilities. When Natasha is here, she’s just another normal adult woman. She hangs out with friends and learns valuable lessons that help her grow in her faith.

Near MTU we came to a busy intersection and crossing the street proved to be a difficult feat. There were no ramps on any of the curbs. As we searched for an incline in the curb my heart broke. I realized that this ramp-less curbside represents a mentality, the mentality of apathy and ignorance. As long as people like Natasha are sequestered away out of sight, no one has to think about their responsibility to “do unto others.” Curbs without ramps are a demonstration of turning a blind eye to those in need.

Natasha faces these obstacles daily. She has to be lifted over curbs, pulled through potholes, and carried up steep stairways. And she’s not alone. I have met numerous people like her, who struggle every day just to get from place to place.

All it takes is sitting on a bench and having a conversation with someone like Natasha to open your eyes.

I cannot revamp the city of Zhytomyr to be more wheelchair friendly. I cannot get rid of all the curbs without ramps, pothole ridden sidewalks, and the world’s apathy toward such problems. And neither can MTU. But the people here are finding ways around these obstacles. They are making sure that girls like Natasha get out of the house, experience life, and meet others with the same problems.

Today as I begin another day here I realize even more how the people at MTU are truly living out the prayer “your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” They are, every day, building ramps on the curb sides of life. My hope is that you too will start creating your own ramps. Check out the next steps below for some practical ways to do so.

The afternoons were spent outside in the sunshine and on Mission to Ukraine’s brand new beautiful yard!

The day camp held at Mission to Ukraine for the women of the crisis pregnancy center is a special time of fellowship, relaxation and learning – without their kids. Between working, cooking, cleaning and taking care of the family, many women don’t get a chance to breathe, let alone spend some time having fun with their friends.

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, one thing is true in all languages – laughter is therapeutic and a cheerful heart is good medicine, and everyone needs it.

The schedule was constructed around small group time, a laid back opportunity for women to study and discuss God’s Word.

This is especially true for the women involved in the crisis pregnancy center, as none of these women would be mothers if it weren’t for the Lord’s working hand at MTU. The beauty of this weekend getaway lies in one fact: the women enjoying it have all chosen to become a mother, to have a child, to bring life. And while this choice probably made their lives significantly harder, they all have stories of how the Lord has gone before them.

This time away has become an opportunity to leave family, marital, or financial problems and learn about the attributes of the God who has worked in every one of their lives.

To start off the day, Dr. Lawton spoke a few encouraging words, followed by a time of worship. The main spiritual focus of the camp revolved around a film called Magdelena, the story of Mary Magdelene and her encounter with Jesus.

The American team brought an endless amount of craft supplies because creativity is good for the soul, especially for busy moms who wouldn’t usually have the time.

The ladies were split into small groups, each led by an American team member. This was a time to discuss the film and go through different Biblical stories to encourage the ladies in anything they might be struggling with. Many of the women are in Bible studies together through Mission to Ukraine and were able to take their friendships even deeper.

The crafts were perfectly aimed at each woman’s feminine side. Flowers, shoes and scrapbooking – all the ways to a woman’s heart.

I listened to them sharing their lives, relating to and encouraging each other in the Lord. Having the freedom to open up and share is one thing, but having people actually listen and care is another. I heard women giving advice about unhealthy marriages, telling stories of wayward children and broken relationships and asking for prayer for their families.

I saw the community fostered by Mission to Ukraine grow in love and encouragement with each other.

I saw joy and satisfaction in what the Lord has done in their lives played out in the fellowship and creativity of our sisters in Christ.

While many women were already in Bible studies together, most women had at least one thing in common to make new friends.

I saw that despite what may be going on back home, despite what may have happened in the past, many of these women have seen and continue to see one important truth: God is good.

As I watched the body of Christ enjoying each other, I began thinking: What has the Lord done in my life? Do you and I share by the way we live, our testimony of God’s goodness?

Do we realize the importance of a community that can encourage and empathize through good and bad? And most importantly, are we living breathing vessels of God’s love for his people?

The women whose lives have been changed through Mission to Ukraine have found something that needs to be re-discovered. Looking back at their trials and seeing how the Lord was working gives them the freedom to look forward with the same hope. And this hope comes from a God who is more powerful than any problems to be faced on this earth.

It’s no wonder their laughter and smiles give it away – how could you hold that in?

So far, the experience has been fantastic. We’ve all really connected with our Ukrainian host ministries, we had a wonderful visit to the Romaniv Disabled Boys Orphanage (more on that soon!), and there has been a steady IV drip of delicious Borscht flowing into our bodies pretty much since we arrived.

Our interns Krystallin, Lauren and Chris at the Frankfurt airport.

In the next day or two, we will begin posting articles, travel journals, photo galleries and culture guides from our time in Zhytomyr. Some will be funny, some will be heart-breaking, but all, we hope, will inspire you to take the next steps in your journey towards a life committed to social justice, care for the oppressed and a deep desire to see the kingdom of God come in this world.

The team. I can’t wait to see what God has in store for us this summer!

I encourage you to make it a commitment to read all of our content this summer. A few minutes over coffee in the morning or during a break at work… that is all it will take.

In return, we will open your eyes to an exciting and often surprising part of the world. We will inspire you with stories of ordinary people who are living brave and selfless lives. We will give you practical ways to get involved with the organizations we write about…

And through it all, we will give you the opportunity to watch your own life be transformed!

So what are you waiting for? Add our site to your bookmarks, subscribe to our articles via email (click here), and get ready to go on a journey into the world next door!

There are lots of ways to experience a trip.  Unusual sights and people to see, sounds and languages to take in, and a range of emotions to feel, but on this trip one sensation came to the forefront.  I discovered that using my taste buds was, in fact, the perfect way to judge where I am and where I am headed.

Granola bars and trail mix – never leave home without them!

Let me illustrate with some anecdotes.  Linn, my fearless traveling companion, and I barely got started on our journey when we found ourselves in Detroit’s airport with a three hour layover to waste.  What better way to pass the time than make a last-ditch stop for lunch at the in-house Chili’s restaurant.  Nothing says “America” better than a burger and fries!

Sometimes Kenyan products have the same food with a different look...and there is always an adequate supply of toothpicks!

Eventually, we were speeding over the Atlantic, and by the time dinner rolled around, I was ready to eat, more to break up the monotony of the flight than due to hunger.  Plus, I was happy that on international flights, food of any kind is still served.  But when I looked at the limp salad and marginal meat and mashed potato meal in front of me, I was again reminded where I was…30,000 feet up in the air and not in a sit-down restaurant.

Our next flight was with the Dutch airline, KLM, and I could taste the difference.  Europeans just know how to do food right…the bread was fresh, the warm cloth they handed me to wash my hands was a nice touch, and the meal just looked all around more appetizing.  Granted, I was 12 hours into the journey at this point and I was hungry.

Christy busy preparing supper for my host family.

Finally, we touched down in Nairobi and made our way to the guesthouse for the night.  By breakfast, it was clear I had arrived in Africa.  Fresh mangos, papaya and pineapple, Kenyan sausages (best in the world!) and an assortment of coffee and tea to choose from.

Still, we were in the cosmopolitan hub of Nairobi, and there were lots of “western” treats, too, like cereal and peanut butter for my toast.  To find authentic village cuisine, I had another day of travel ahead of me.

By nightfall we had almost completed the saga.  I was checked in at the guesthouse in Kisumu, the largest town in western Kenya perched on the edge of Lake Victoria.  When I looked at my dinner menu and I felt a smile spread across my face.  Ugali, Chapati, sweet potatoes, fish, and cabbage.  I was finally here!  And of course it tasted even better with a nice Krest soda (I recommend the lemonade flavor) straight from the refrigerator.

Lake Victoria is great for fishing and transporting things like sugarcane... Or people!

On our fourth and final day, Linn and I eased ourselves out of the truck, a bit grimy and tired from the bumpy road, and of course, hungry, too.  Soon our generous hosts presented us with a delicious meal of chicken and rice prepared Kenyan-style, the customary food given to guests in the western part of the country.

So now that I have all natural, all home-made meals to look forward to, I wonder if I’ll ever be ready to come home.  But don’t worry, I’m sure the lure of some familiar favorites like deep dish pizza and brownies will get the better of me eventually!

But this time, instead of living in the bustling capital city of Nairobi and taking excursions to Mombasa on the coast of the Indian Ocean or to the desert-like area of Marsabit in the North, I’m trekking deep into the tropical region of western Kenya that borders Lake Victoria to a remote village called Kager.  Who knew that for a country smaller than the state of Texas there could be so much to see?

I’m looking forward to the beauty of western Kenya’s mountains and sunsets!

-

The Project

Partners from Indiana get a chance to meet some micro-loan participants last year in Kager.

While I’m thrilled about this chance to discover a new side of Kenya, I’m even more excited about the people and organization that is hosting me.  Jubliee Village Project is a truly ground-breaking partnership between men and women in the village (Team Kager), and a group of ministry-minded men and women in Indianapolis (Team Indiana) who share a common vision for sustainable and holistic development in Kager.

Lots of organizations exist to fight poverty in Africa, but JVP’s model is unique for several reasons.  First, the leadership is made up entirely of volunteers.  Both the American and Kenyan team consist of people who integrate JVP work with their normal “day job” as CEOs, farmers, ministers, or health clinic administrators.

Solar lanterns are one simple solution JVP is using in Kager.

Second, because both Team Kager and Team Indiana recognize the inter-connectedness of the challenges facing Kager, their projects strive to be as holistic as possible.  So while they are implementing new farming techniques and strategies to increase food production, they are also empowering entrepreneurs through micro-development, expanding the health clinic, encouraging the local churches and making improvements everywhere from kitchens to schools to the transportation sector.  In all, JVP has 8 distinct areas of focus – no small feat for a small grassroots organization.

Third, the people of JVP take the concept of “partnership” seriously.  Each team member in the States who offers his or her expertise to the project, whether it is in the field of education, health, or technology, always works side-by-side their Kenyan counterpart who is responsible for co-creating, managing and implementing the project on the ground.  JVP’s vision is to bring sustainable development to Kager that will result in lasting change and eventually continue without the direct involvement of outside help.

What’s a Jubilee?

JVP has big dreams for Kager based on sustainable and holistic solutions.

To me, anything beginning with the word “jubilee” sounds like a party, and judging by the passion and energy with which the people of JVP approach their work, this jubilee is truly going to be an exciting time.  The title “Jubilee Village Project” recalls the Year of Jubliee instituted in ancient Israel as a time to restore justice, free oppressed people, and redistribute wealth.  The members of Team Indiana and Team Kager are working together to live out that vision in the present by ushering in a new season of justice and peace in rural Kenya, and I’m looking forward to getting a glimpse of it!

Embedded

So what’s my role in all this, you may ask?  I get to serve as JVP’s first short-term intern, and I’ll be responsible for several tasks ranging from documenting the impact of current projects with videos and photography, taking a survey to assess needs and opportunities for future projects, and building the communication capacity between the two teams.  But mainly, I’m excited to go and learn from the people of Kager, to be immersed in the life of the village, and take part in the jubilee that is unfolding there.

I’m ready for another adventure, and I hope you are, too.  Join me in these next several weeks as I jump in and discover what this jubilee is all about!

It was a beautiful, sunny day in the Bronx.  Serving soup, snapping photos and chatting with people on the street, I was in a really great mood.  Looking back over my time with the Relief Bus that day, I felt absolutely honored to have been a part of it.

At one point during the day, I got into a conversation with a homeless man named Jole (pronounced “Joel”).  He had been on the streets for more than ten years… in and out of shelters, in and out of programs, but pretty much resigned to a lifetime of homelessness.

But when he came up to the Relief Bus that day, he was ready to make a change.

A Confident Guy

Now, Jole is a confident guy.  Despite signs of a difficult past like the scar on his forehead and the flecks of white hair in his scraggly goatee, he carries himself with an air of pride.

He suffers from a unique case of Amblyopia (commonly called “lazy eye”), where both of his eyes work, but not together.  As a result, Jole frequently switched his “dominant” eye as we talked, forcing me to really pay attention if I wanted to keep making eye contact.

I wondered as we talked if it was perhaps a subconscious way for Jole to have at least a semblance of control…

Jole is a very confident guy!

In the course of our conversation, Jole mentioned his desire to get into a decent program once again.  After sleeping in the corner of an abandoned lot for several days, shivering in the icy rain and suffering through the constant pain of a sprained ankle, he had reached the end of his rope.

I told him a bit about the Bowery Mission, and his eyes started to grow wide.  “Well, that sounds real good,” he said.

After Jole and I talked for a while with Steve Pastor and got a Relief Bus referral form written up, Steve asked him to stick around for a couple of hours so we could get him a subway ticket to get down to the Bowery.

Jole got a cup of soup and walked a short way down the sidewalk to wait.

Some graffiti in the Bronx near where I met Jole. Click the image to see a larger version!

-

Uncertainty

As the day went on, however, I started to worry that Jole would have a hard time following through.  It’s a big, big step to ask someone who has been on the streets for ten years to leave their neighborhood, take a train to some unfamiliar part of town and sign the next six months of their life away to an organization they’ve never heard of!

So, after talking with Steve, I decided to do something unique.  I went over to where Jole was standing and offered to go with him to the Bowery. I offered to pay for his train ticket and sit with him through the whole intake process.

It's not easy to leave a life on the streets.

He agreed.

So, I grabbed my bag, said goodbye to the team and headed off down the street with Jole.

As we got closer to the subway station, I could see in Jole’s body language that he was starting to have a few doubts.  His eyes were distant, like he was deep in thought, so I asked him, “Having second thoughts?”

“It’s the weather!” he replied.  “I mean, now that it’s getting nice, this is when you can make a lot of money on the streets.”

“How?” I asked.

“Lot’s of ways.”  He didn’t elaborate.

“Tell you what,” I said, “Let’s go down to the Bowery, look around, talk to the people there, and if you don’t like it or if you change your mind, I’ll buy you a ticket and send you straight back to the Bronx.”

“Well, ok…” he replied.

Walking Commercials

When we arrived at the Bowery Mission, Jole was impressed.  Right off the bat we were given sandwiches from a nearby Whole Foods (a day old, perhaps, but tasty nonetheless!).  While we ate, Jole looked at the price tag on the bottom of the box and his eyes went wide.  “Seven bucks for a sandwich?  You were right.  They do have good food here.”

As we sat around waiting to see an intake counselor, just about every person we met was a walking commercial for the Bowery.  Smiles, handshakes, joy… One random guy came up for no reason just to tell us that he had gone through the program successfully and now has his life totally in order.

Jole also saw a few people he recognized.  After seeing one older man walk by, Jole had a look of astonishment on his face.  He turned to me and said, “I knew that guy on the streets! But he didn’t look like he does now, man.  He was a mess.  Totally in the gutter.  I barely even recognized him just now.  He looks good!”

This Bowery resident sent his picture home to his mother, but he was so cleaned up she didn't recognize him!

When one Bowery resident saw me, he ran over to give me a big handshake.  I had given him a couple 4×6 prints of his portrait the week before and he had sent one home to his mother.

“Nobody at home recognized me in the picture!”  He said.  “When they last saw me I was such a drunk that I was always filthy, falling over… Now I’m clean and I don’t look the same at all!”

When he left, I looked over at Jole.  He again had that look of astonishment on his face.  Suddenly all the good things I had been saying about the Bowery were more than just words…

The Decision

By the time we finally sat down with the intake counselor, Jole had switched his decision between yes, no and maybe probably a dozen times.

At some points he would talk himself into it (“Huh. I could give six months to a place like this…”) and at others he’d talk himself out of it (“Maybe I should just come back in the winter or something… I’m not sure this place is right for me.”).  I tried not to push it too much, choosing to simply encourage him whenever he seemed most doubtful about the idea.

Joining the Bowery's program is a bigger step than it might seem...

Things were going well as the counselor told Jole what to expect from the program.  Until Jole asked him one final question.

“Now I’ve been a smoker for ten years.  Where will I go to smoke?”

“Oh… no” said the counselor, “We do not allow smoking at all for our students.  We’ll help you through with patches and things, but you can’t smoke once you’re in here.”

Hearing that hit Jole like a bolt of lightning.  He leaned back in his chair, put his hand over his eyes and let out a groan.

“Woah… I did not expect to make that decision today.”

The counselor left to give him some time to think.  Jole wrestled back and forth on the issue, eventually making up his mind that he just couldn’t give up smoking.  Not yet.

But then, something unexpected happened.  Just when I was ready give in to disappointment, Jole straightened up in his seat, looked right at me and said, “No. Wait.  This is my life.  This is my decision.  I can do this.  Let’s get that guy back in here so I can sign the paper. I’m ready.”

A Fighting Chance

Within 10 minutes, Jole had a bed, he had a place to put his things and he had a group of other Bowery residents looking out for him, making sure he had sheets and towels, and giving him all sorts of encouraging words.

Still a bit surprised that he had actually made the decision to stay, I put my hand on his shoulder and prayed.  I prayed for courage and strength and I prayed that his cravings for cigarettes would be totally taken away.

Jole... Given a fighting chance once more.

With Jole safely in the hands of the Bowery’s capable staff, I walked out of the dorm, waved one last goodbye and headed back out onto the street.

I walked to the nearest subway thinking about all that had happened over the previous four or five hours.  Jole, a man who had been homeless for a decade, now has a chance to turn his life around… to experience the grace and dignity of a life following Jesus.

This incredible second chance would not have been possible without the work of New York City Relief or the Bowery Mission.  Two ministries working in concert, doing what they were made to do… Now they have the potential to change one man’s life forever.

Of course, there’s no guarantee that Jole will stay.  Perhaps the nice weather will finally get the better of him.  Maybe he’ll decide that he prefers the freedom of living on the streets.

But I do have hope that Jole can actually make it.  Why?  Because of one simple act that happened just before we headed down to the dorm.

As the intake counselor stood up to get his keys, Jole reached into his pocket and said, “Here.  Throw this away.  I don’t need it anymore.”  He took something out and tossed it to the counselor.

In that moment I knew that Jole had a fighting chance.

Flying through the air was a small, blue lighter…

Even though I was heading out once again to serve with The Relief Bus, it was hard to keep a smile on my face.  My hands and face were freezing, I was coming down with a nasty cold and my return home in just three more days was becoming a constant distraction.

Sure, I went through the motions, but I would have much rather been curled up in bed as we rode the old un-heated bus into the Bronx.

When we arrived, things didn’t get much better.  Because of the icy rain, most people stayed inside.  Sure, there were a few dedicated regulars who made it out to get some soup, but after an hour of just standing around with the other volunteers, I was beginning to think it would be a pretty worthless day.

A Friend

But things changed when I went to warm up inside the Love Gospel Assembly (where the bus sets up each Tuesday).  To my surprise, I bumped into Irving, the same man I had met a couple of weeks before.

Immediately I approached him to ask him how he was.

“Hey, Irving!  How are you man?”

On a cold, rainy day, our volunteers didn't have much work to do...

He thought for a second with a slight furrow in his brow, then answered, “Um, I’m alright…”

“Yeah?  Well you look great.”

He did.  The Irving I had met two weeks before was just beginning the recovery process from his addiction to drugs.  He had no focus and could barely control his fine motor skills.  Here, however, was a much stronger, healthier man.  His recovery was going well.

But his life was not.

Irving explained that he is still homeless… sleeping on subway cars.  He spends his days moving between meals at various soup kitchens, picking up medications at his substance abuse recovery clinic and feeding stray kittens in a local park.

He’s tried staying in shelters, but has had some bad experiences (other residents using drugs, being violent, etc.).  Apparently, most shelters in New York are not anywhere close to the caliber of The Bowery Mission.  So, he remains on the subway, scared for his life but out of the rain.

We talked for a few minutes, and I suggested that he check out The Bowery.  Initially, he sounded positive about the idea, but then said something that absolutely broke my heart.

“But who is going to take care of the cats in the park?”

Irving. A compassionate man with little to give.

Irving, a man with nothing, was concerned about the lives of others.  He had found significance in caring for creatures that cannot care for themselves.

Who would have thought I’d learn about the beauty of caring for others from a guy who feeds cats in a park?

Gratitude

After chatting for a little bit, Irving and I headed onto the Relief Bus to talk with Steve Pastor, one of NYCR’s staff.

As the other volunteers talked with him and Steve tried to help him find a new shelter, I dug through the back of the bus for a matching pair of shoes.  I looked and looked, but could only find shoes for left feet!  Apart from being a bit baffled at all the lefties, I was also saddened that I wouldn’t be able to help Irving more.

When I went back to the front of the bus, Steve and the volunteers were getting ready to pray for him.  I joined in, put my hand on his shoulder and prayed.  I prayed for strength, for courage and for provision.  I prayed that Irving would sense the presence and love of God.  And I prayed that he would be able to find a way off of the streets.

After the final “amen,” Irving stood up, thanked us with tears in his eyes and began to leave.

Steve on the Relief Bus, talking with another visitor.

I suddenly remembered the article I had written about him and thought he should know that even more people were praying for him right now.  I explained that I had told his story on my website and told him that people are praying for him by name in Indianapolis, in Kenya, in Ukraine, in Panama…

He was stunned.  “Woah,” he said, “I didn’t know about that.  Wow.  Thank you!”

As Irving walked off the bus with a big grin on his face, I could see h0w much it meant to him.  Looking back, I realize that his raw gratitude is something I lack.  I often take the prayers of others for granted.

Amazing. I had just learned the importance of gratitude from a guy who has little reason to be thankful.

One More Lesson

Before heading off for the day, Irving decided to have a cup of soup from the bus.  I was hungry, so I joined him.

Who would have thought that my attitude would be turned upside down by a man living on the streets?

As we ate, I made an offhand comment about the weather.  “Can you believe this rain?  I thought it was supposed to be spring!  Where’s the sun?”

Irving’s response surprised me.

“Oh, don’t be upset about the rain!  It’s just the earth washing itself.  It’s just our planet’s way of taking a shower.  It needs to happen, so be flexible!”

Wow.  I had just learned a lesson about my attitude from a guy sleeping in subway cars.

As I watched Irving walk away, the rain began to let up.  I vaguely remembered being upset about something earlier, but my attitude had completely changed.

“Huh,” I thought.

“That was a good day…”