“I think that car wash is for him, Mama T,” the young man in the back seat of my car said quietly. He was sitting next to his girlfriend and his eyes were fixed on the people on the street.
“Do you want me to stop?” I asked
“No, you can keep going,” he said.
His curly hair was getting long and his eyes began to water. The loss of yet another friend was a lot. Since he had come to live with us, he discovered that one of his brothers got locked up and the other one was on house arrest. Both under the age of 18. His girlfriend held his hand and did not say a word.
We arrived at the thrift store and got out. The couple lingered outside to smoke and my daughter and I went in to find some things for her Sadie’s Hawkins dance. When we were done, he asked me if he could go back to the car wash to see if anyone could give him and his girlfriend a ride to the candlelight vigil. So I drove back to the corner where everyone was.
When we parked the car, the group assumed that I was another customer, there to support the funeral, with a car wash. My car needed one, but I was not there for that purpose. The young man and I got out of the car, and my daughter and his girlfriend stayed inside.
There were close to 50 people there; all helping, grieving, remembering. As I walked closer to the group, all eyes watched me. The smell of marijuana was thick and the tattoos on their bodies, indicated they were from the Bulldog gang. Against the wall, one man, close to my age, tensed up to see what I was doing there. He glared with a fierce intensity as I walked up to the young man’s cousin. She had a joint in her hand and put it behind her back, so that I would not see it. She looked at me, confused, and then at the young man. The young man hugged her and she responded with, “This sucks man.”
He introduced me and I gave her a hug. Her stiff body would indicate that she did not expect my embrace; but I continued to engulf her in my Mama T way, until she relaxed. He introduced me to all the people who came around him. One by one, I hugged them and shared my condolences. Joints were being passed around and sadness hung in the air. My heart was broken for them, for the loss of a life so young.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I turned around to see a young man that looked familiar.
“Remember me?” he asked.
“You look familiar,” I said, “but I can’t place where I know you from.”
“I met you at the Hall. You were talking to me and my mom and dad. Your husband was breaking it down to my dad, remember?” he inquired.
“Oh yes, I do remember.” I said with a hug. He too knew the young man who had just passed away. One by one young people started to come around me, curious as to who I was. I clearly did not belong there, hugging and talking to this community of people. Yet, there I was: talking, embracing and encouraging them in their loss. Many of them knew Will, one of our Bible Study boys who was killed just two weeks earlier, so their sorrow was heavy. As the smoke and conversations rose in the air, the man who was standing by the wall began to soften. No longer did he stare me down with a fierceness. His posture changed, he leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed and began to talk to the people around him, eyes off me. I was told that he was the father of the young man, who had just passed. So his intense, silent inquiry was understandable to me.
There I was, me, a 41 year old, urban missionary, standing in the middle of Bulldogs from McKenzie Street. Loving them, hugging them, and being accepted by them. I looked at their faces: broken, sad, lost and angry; and had compassion for them. I had just walked into a hornets nest and was not stung. They were swarming around me, checking to see if I was a threat, to see if I had fear, to discover what my motive was. The love that was exuding out of me, from Jesus, was so powerful, that it was like smoke to a bee hive. It calmed them, and took away the threat. I did not look like them, I did not belong, but they saw Jesus in me, and although they may not be able to articulate what was happening, they were experiencing the love of Jesus.
So many times, we, as Christians look at a situation with judgement and condemnation and miss an opportunity to be the hands and feet of Jesus. So many times, we are stricken with fear and cannot even get out of the building called “church” to bring Jesus to the dark places. So many times, we believe the lie that people who want Jesus, will just show up to church, because, you know, it is church. We live in a post-Christian nation. People are not going to show up to a building to find hope. So many people don’t even know who Jesus is. A lot of people see Christianity as an elitist, judgmental, controlling organization that has no room for sinners or the broken or the lost.
The young man, who lives with my family, continued talking to his cousin and then asked me if I could take him to his Grammie’s house, which was a few blocks away from the candlelight vigil. He wanted to pick up the letter his brother had sent him from the Hall. I drove into Bulldog territory, filled with joy that I was shining a light in a dark place. I gave him a sympathy card for his friend’s mom. He looked at it with bewilderment, as this gesture was a middle class occurrence that he was unaccustomed to.
“If you don’t want to give her the card, you don’t have to. But it’s what we do when someone we know dies.” I said.
“Oh, okay,” he understood. “No, I like it, I think she will too.”
He got out of the car, with his girlfriend and walked up to the door of his Grammie’s house. My daughter and I drove away. She looked at me and smiled. She too felt the joy of just being the light. Not preaching, not condemning, not expecting… Just loving, just giving, just being the hands and feet of Jesus.
If only more people with the light inside of them, walked in the dark; to give hope, to show love, to be present. They are looked at as the scum of the earth, a gang, this gang. But they are human beings with souls and hearts, who need Jesus. Open your heart to those you look down on. Give your hand to those, who you think are beneath you. Share the love of Jesus to those who do not know him.
You will find that LOVE is the most powerful weapon on earth. The LOVE of Jesus, shown to a broken world, is the ONLY thing that will change people, change our city, our state, our nation, our world. No amount of programs, laws, events, organizations will do that. You may think you are a NOBODY, that has nothing to offer this broken world… but if you know Jesus, if you have experienced his love in your own life… you are a somebody- who has the most powerful weapon on earth- AGAPE LOVE.
GO… go and change the world… by showing God’s love… start with one person, today. You will be amazed at how powerful your act of love is. It starts with one, then another, then another.
Matthew 11:19
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