Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Through the voice of a friend.
I have been a writer most of my life but not long ago I had an experience that really touched my heart.
A friend of mine for many years invited me to go to a writers club meeting with her. At the meetings you print up a few things you have written and then everyone lets you know what they think about it. Also you are supposed to read one of your writings aloud for the group which I had no desire to do lol
My friend offered to read my writing for me. I was glad to not have to be the one reading so said sure. As I sat there that evening listening to my dear friend speak my words I was moved beyond belief. Firstly I had never heard anything I have written read aloud and especially not by a friend.
The experience was made more awesome because of who this friend was, because I knew that on some level she could actually understand what I had put on paper.
Then I began to think about this experience for days. Wondering what it would be like if I could speak the words for other people that are hurting but can't seem to find their voice to express them? What would it mean to just one lost soul to hear someone speak their words for them? To know that at least one person really did understand, did care.
Could I care enough to stop and really hear what they are saying? Could I lay down my judgments and expectations long enough to see the real person?
I care! Ask me why!
I am one of the forgotten who hasn’t forgotten. (Part 1)
My name is Jeremy, and this is a picture of my little brothers Justin, James and I when we were younger before we became one of the forgotten.
When we were1, 2 and 4 years old a church in our town began to pick us and our mother up for Sunday morning services.
We loved going to Sunday school, singing the songs, playing the games. For little children growing up poor and without a father church was our refuge from the world.
No matter what we had to face living in the projects, being poor we always knew, if we could just make it until time for that bus to come back by our house again, life would be worth living.
At church we were taught that no matter what went on in our lives that Jesus would always love us, that he died so that our sins could be forgiven and we could one day go to heaven to be with him forever, never to hurt again.
When I was 6 I heard it said that the Holy Ghost was for anyone that wanted it, and that Jesus wanted me to be a part of his family. So as a young scared little boy, I made my way to an altar and there began to repent of my sin and asked God to forgive me and help me to be what I should be. Not long into the prayer I received the Holy Ghost; I spoke in a language I did not know. It was scary yet exhilarating all the same. I thought in that moment that I could do and be anything I wanted because I knew finally love and peace.
The next week my mother and I were baptized in Jesus name. I never thought life could be so wonderful. Yes we were still poor, still had struggles, but I had peace in my heart and home for the first time in my short life. I had never seen my mother so happy.
Things in life went pretty well after this and in time my little brothers even got the Holy Ghost and was baptized. At home we listened to songs about Jesus, we read the bible together. I heard my mother pray after we went to bed and it was such a comforting sound.
As time went on I made it through Jr. High and it was time for me to attend high school. I was scared yet excited. I had grown so much spiritually over the last few years and was excited to see what my life had to offer.
One day a few months after I started attending high school, my brothers and I came home from the bus ride home to find my mother in the kitchen crying. I went to her and asked her what was wrong and she just told us to pray, that she needed time to ask God how to handle a problem.
So for a couple of days that was our prayer anytime we got down on our knees. I remember thinking, God I have no idea what has upset my mother so but please give her peace again and help her find the answers she needs.
I woke up and began to dress for church. I wanted to badly to make it to church and share with my friends there the prayer request for my mother. I really hated seeing her hurting and confused.
As I sat on the front steps waiting for the church bus to come my mother stepped out on the porch and sat next to me wiping the tears from her eyes. She said:
“Jeremy, I just don’t know how to tell you this but to just come out and say it, but I got a phone call last week from the church people that have picked us up over the years and they have decided it is not feasible to have a bus ministry any longer. They said they can no longer afford to pay for gas to pick us all up over here. So I guess the only ones that can attend that church from now on are people who are not in need.”
With that she got up, went inside and never mentioned God or church in front of my brothers and I again.
I was devastated. My entire world had come crashing down in that one statement. As I look back I realize I had become one of the forgotten.
We lived quite a few miles from the church so it was not feasible to try to walk or ride my bike. Besides we really were only welcome on Sunday mornings now that I began to look back. What I thought I was part of, belonged to, really was all a fable when the truth be told.
You see, you may have forgotten me. I do understand. It has been years since you have seen my face. But I remember you. I remember the times you told me Jesus cared. I remember the times you said you would be there. I remember the times you said call me if you ever need anything.
I never in all those years called on you. Never asked for favors, for money, or for help.
Then the one day I do call you say I am sorry I am just not cost effective. My soul basically is not worth a few gallons of gas. When you decided to not pick up my mother, brothers and I, you also quit picking up 25+ other people that lived in my apartments at the time.
Do we ever cross your mind? Do you ever wonder how we turned out? Can you even remember any of our names?
When did humans become disposable?
Do you know where we all are now? What our lives are like?
Two girls that rode the bus to your church with me have committed suicide in the last few years, deciding there just wasn’t anything left to live for.
One of the guys that got the Holy Ghost about the same time I did is now in prison for killing his wife and two children.
One of the mothers of our group is now raising her three granddaughters because their mother and father went to prison for cooking meth. (Both of which had attended church with us)
My mother has gone back to her old life. She never smiles or laughs. She never could get over the pain.
I have my own car now and family and wondered about you so decided to drive by the church. I really had to say I felt sad when I saw the huge buildings you had. There were gyms, a coffee shop, bookstore, gift shop, rooms for almost anything you can think of. But try as I might I saw not a bus one.
I guess people like me, the forgotten are still not cost effective for your God.
Honestly I wish you had never come to my house that day. I wish you had never told me Jesus cared or shared the bible with me. At least then I wouldn’t remember what I didn’t learn.
But you shared then walked away.
You may have forgotten us but we still can call your name.
My last thought I think at night is: God when this all ends will you remember my name or only theirs?
==================
This is what kind of story we leave in our wake when we start a ministry then allow ourselves to get too busy, get tired or any other excuse to quit doing what we were called to do.
Who are the forgotten in your life?
When we were1, 2 and 4 years old a church in our town began to pick us and our mother up for Sunday morning services.
We loved going to Sunday school, singing the songs, playing the games. For little children growing up poor and without a father church was our refuge from the world.
No matter what we had to face living in the projects, being poor we always knew, if we could just make it until time for that bus to come back by our house again, life would be worth living.
At church we were taught that no matter what went on in our lives that Jesus would always love us, that he died so that our sins could be forgiven and we could one day go to heaven to be with him forever, never to hurt again.
When I was 6 I heard it said that the Holy Ghost was for anyone that wanted it, and that Jesus wanted me to be a part of his family. So as a young scared little boy, I made my way to an altar and there began to repent of my sin and asked God to forgive me and help me to be what I should be. Not long into the prayer I received the Holy Ghost; I spoke in a language I did not know. It was scary yet exhilarating all the same. I thought in that moment that I could do and be anything I wanted because I knew finally love and peace.
The next week my mother and I were baptized in Jesus name. I never thought life could be so wonderful. Yes we were still poor, still had struggles, but I had peace in my heart and home for the first time in my short life. I had never seen my mother so happy.
Things in life went pretty well after this and in time my little brothers even got the Holy Ghost and was baptized. At home we listened to songs about Jesus, we read the bible together. I heard my mother pray after we went to bed and it was such a comforting sound.
As time went on I made it through Jr. High and it was time for me to attend high school. I was scared yet excited. I had grown so much spiritually over the last few years and was excited to see what my life had to offer.
One day a few months after I started attending high school, my brothers and I came home from the bus ride home to find my mother in the kitchen crying. I went to her and asked her what was wrong and she just told us to pray, that she needed time to ask God how to handle a problem.
So for a couple of days that was our prayer anytime we got down on our knees. I remember thinking, God I have no idea what has upset my mother so but please give her peace again and help her find the answers she needs.
I woke up and began to dress for church. I wanted to badly to make it to church and share with my friends there the prayer request for my mother. I really hated seeing her hurting and confused.
As I sat on the front steps waiting for the church bus to come my mother stepped out on the porch and sat next to me wiping the tears from her eyes. She said:
“Jeremy, I just don’t know how to tell you this but to just come out and say it, but I got a phone call last week from the church people that have picked us up over the years and they have decided it is not feasible to have a bus ministry any longer. They said they can no longer afford to pay for gas to pick us all up over here. So I guess the only ones that can attend that church from now on are people who are not in need.”
With that she got up, went inside and never mentioned God or church in front of my brothers and I again.
I was devastated. My entire world had come crashing down in that one statement. As I look back I realize I had become one of the forgotten.
We lived quite a few miles from the church so it was not feasible to try to walk or ride my bike. Besides we really were only welcome on Sunday mornings now that I began to look back. What I thought I was part of, belonged to, really was all a fable when the truth be told.
You see, you may have forgotten me. I do understand. It has been years since you have seen my face. But I remember you. I remember the times you told me Jesus cared. I remember the times you said you would be there. I remember the times you said call me if you ever need anything.
I never in all those years called on you. Never asked for favors, for money, or for help.
Then the one day I do call you say I am sorry I am just not cost effective. My soul basically is not worth a few gallons of gas. When you decided to not pick up my mother, brothers and I, you also quit picking up 25+ other people that lived in my apartments at the time.
Do we ever cross your mind? Do you ever wonder how we turned out? Can you even remember any of our names?
When did humans become disposable?
Do you know where we all are now? What our lives are like?
Two girls that rode the bus to your church with me have committed suicide in the last few years, deciding there just wasn’t anything left to live for.
One of the guys that got the Holy Ghost about the same time I did is now in prison for killing his wife and two children.
One of the mothers of our group is now raising her three granddaughters because their mother and father went to prison for cooking meth. (Both of which had attended church with us)
My mother has gone back to her old life. She never smiles or laughs. She never could get over the pain.
I have my own car now and family and wondered about you so decided to drive by the church. I really had to say I felt sad when I saw the huge buildings you had. There were gyms, a coffee shop, bookstore, gift shop, rooms for almost anything you can think of. But try as I might I saw not a bus one.
I guess people like me, the forgotten are still not cost effective for your God.
Honestly I wish you had never come to my house that day. I wish you had never told me Jesus cared or shared the bible with me. At least then I wouldn’t remember what I didn’t learn.
But you shared then walked away.
You may have forgotten us but we still can call your name.
My last thought I think at night is: God when this all ends will you remember my name or only theirs?
==================
This is what kind of story we leave in our wake when we start a ministry then allow ourselves to get too busy, get tired or any other excuse to quit doing what we were called to do.
Who are the forgotten in your life?
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