An open door

Last month my squad was in Medellin, Colombia working with an organization called Ciudad Refugio. It’s actually the most amazing ministry I’ve ever seen and a big part of my heart is staying in Medellin this month. To give you a *brief* snapshot of this month I’ll just list out the ministry they have. At night they open up their church space to homeless men, the second floor is a men’s recovery program for drug addictions, the third floor is the women’s program, they also have several teenagers that they’ve taken out of squatter towns, have church/youth groups, do outreaches in elderly homes, visit women and children in illegal housing, and do street ministry on the worst drug street in the city. This month was full of learning and diving into new kinds of ministry. I fell in love with all the kids and youth I got to spend time with this month. 

This month God and I worked on parts of my identity and I was able to step into a new confidence and reassurance of Gods presence. It also brought up some healing from my past and part of my families story. I was able to use our story and what Jesus showed me in it to then minister to people on the street and teach with it during a church service for the homeless men that come at night. So here’s part of my story and a bit of the teaching I gave:)

Like I said before, one of the ministries Ciudad Refugio does is street ministry. It’s on a street called the Bronx and each Wednesday night/Thursday morning they bring water and bread and do evangelism with all the homeless addicts on the street. I’ve never seen anything like it. There are youth, men, and women covering the street – all of them high and with even more drugs right in front of them. There’s old people high out of their minds, young people being pimped, people sick and injured, kids just standing by and watching. It’s heavy. You can feel the spiritual warfare. The air is thick with smoke. You enter those streets and feel all the heaviness there, and every time God refreshed me with His confidence and made it clear He is walking those streets too.

On our first trip to the Bronx I walked the streets and prayed. I had to take in all I was seeing – and as I did a memory from middle school hit me. When I was younger my older brother was a bit of a wild child. He partied, he drank, he did drugs, and eventually he overdosed – he’s been clean for almost 10 years now and this whole month I’ve been so proud thinking of him. While I was in the Bronx I remembered a night when he came home from a party and came up to my room looking for my mom. I answered my door and saw him standing there stumbling around and slurring words, and I was so afraid of him. I didn’t understand what he had done, I was afraid he might hurt me, I honestly just didn’t know how to talk to him. So I closed the door in his face, locked it, and hid in my room. 

I hid from my brother when he needed my help, he needed my love. I walked the streets thinking of my fear and of the way I turned away from him. I felt that pain and regret, and then I heard Jesus. He said to me “I was never afraid of him, and I’m not afraid of any of these people.” When we knock on the door of the Kingdom of heaven we’re met with rejoicing and open arms. 

Luke 15 tells the story of the prodigal son – of a man who left his family and chose a life of sin. Eventually he reached a point of desperation and decided it was time to go knock on his families door and ask fro help. Verse 15:20-24 says:

 “And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his servants, ‘Bring quickly the best robe, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ And they began to celebrate.”

Our God is this Father. He sees how dirty our clothes are. He sees the marks of the sin we were just living in. He sees it but doesn’t care. People we meet may close the door in our faces and hide from us. They may see what we’ve done and choose not to interact with us again, but God swings the door wide open for us. He runs to us. He covers us with new clothes and new life. He brings us into His house and we celebrate. 

I don’t know who’s reading this, and I don’t know the kind of life you’ve lived. Maybe its been marked by wild living, maybe your wandering has taken a less drastic path. Either way, I want to take a second to apologize to you for anyone who has turned from you. For any family member, friend, or church that has hid from your brokenness when you came to the door looking for help. I’m sorry they didn’t love you well, and I want to remind you how deeply loved you are by Abba regardless of wherever you’ve been. He isn’t afraid of you, He isn’t ashamed. He wants to welcome you in, He wants to celebrate you!