For the City

You looked at me with your sad, yet hopeful eyes, and said “I remember you! You really did come back for us.” You broke my heart and gave me purpose with just a few words. For me, it started as a normal Saturday morning. It did for you too, but our ideas of normal are vastly different. To me, normal is a pretty house in the suburbs. It is coffee, more food than I know what to do with, and a room to call my own. For you, normal is waking up in a cubicle. It’s sharing everything you have with the other 99 people who live in the shelter too. It’s a lack of consistency and having seen more pain in your 9 years than I’ve seen in my 17. 
We were there for the street ministry, so I had to leave you, but my mind wandered back to you all day. As we walked the streets of Atlanta, I wondered what would have happened if you wouldn’t have been rescued. I wanted them to know that there was something better than what they were living in, too. There is hope amidst the hopelessness and light in the darkness. It’s not too late. 
As we prayed with people in the neighborhoods of the city, they shared their brokenness with us. They were vulnerable and real. It’s amazing what happens when the filters are stripped away and followers or likes aren’t occupying our thoughts. We break down the walls and relate to each other in a way we never thought possible. 
“Pray for my addiction.” 

“I just want to know that my kids are okay.”

“I want my wife to make it through the winter.”

“Ask God to show me that He’s real.” 

“I need a job. And better health. And for some way to pay the bills.”

“Cancer is taking over my body and I’m fighting but nothing can stop it.” 
These were the prayers we prayed. Vulnerable, honest, and often heartbreaking. But I’ve found that the bold prayers are the best. When we go to God totally lost and ready to surrender all that we are for all that He is, a kind of miracle happens.
So tonight, as I lay here, I think of you and I think of them. But above all, I think of what brings us together. We are all broken. We are all messy and we are all trying. And at the end of the day, we all have hope that carries us tomorrow. Who we were today is not who we have to be tomorrow. The story is not over yet, and maybe it’s just beginning.