Aldonza

“The world’s a dung heap and we are maggots that crawl on it!”

                                                                                Aldonza in “The Man of La Mancha”

   Quite the worldview isn’t it?  For those of us who have seen the play, “The Man of la Mancha”, we recognize this quote coming from a hardened, abused servant girl. Don Quijote sees beyond her reality to who she is and potentially could be: the noble lady, “Dulcinea”.  I have recently had dealings with a young woman whose life and attitudes remind me of Aldonza in her cynicism and resignation.  

   I met “Sam” when she was leaving a detention centre after visiting her incarcerated boyfriend.  It was cold and raining that day and she looked like a little lost puppy. “Sam” is in her mid-20’s and although still attractive, shows the undeniable signs of the ravages of drug use on her face and in the way she carries herself.  When I first saw her she was having trouble negotiating the various locked doors that a visitor to a detention centre must face and her frustration was causing her to show anger to the officer sitting behind darkened glass, who delayed in pushing the buttons that released the door.  I whispered to her that it was best to wait until she heard the click of an unlocked door instead of yelling at him impatiently. She listened and calmed.

    She told me it was her first time visiting but that she had been a “resident” of the detention centre, released earlier that week. The early winter rain was beating down pretty hard when we got out of the jail so “Sam” asked if I could give her a ride to the bus stop.  I threw up a quick prayer, asking God for wisdom, and protection, then told her I would.

    In the car I started asking questions about her life which she answered with simple, naïve innocence that left me with the certainty that this girl was at great risk of harm and exploitation.  She told me about her struggles with an addiction to opiates and trying to make ends meet while on welfare.  She was renting a space in a rooming house, from a landlord that bullied his tenants and had threatened violence to her.  She was constantly under pressure for sexual favours.  She didn’t feel she was worth of any better, after al, what was she? An "addict."  A failure. Her openness as she talked was a call for help.  I gave her some ideas about how to get support for her drug use, and offered to spend some time with her either trying to find a safer place to live or connecting with workers in town that could help her.  I let her know I am a follower of Christ and that the God who created her loves her and wanted to see her safe.  I prayed with her for God’s protection and leading.  I could tell from her eyes that “God-talk” was a foreign language. We exchanged cell phone numbers and talked about meeting the next week.  She seemed so young and at risk of overdose and/or sexual exploitation. She agreed with me but was not willing to go to detox or make any other changes at that time.  As I left her at her “home”, I was not confident I would ever see her again.  An unsolicited show of gratitude through a text message she sent minutes later surprised me and also showed me there was something there.

    It was 9 months before I saw her again.  During that time I would send text messages, reminding her of the supports available if she wanted to change the direction of her life and just checking in to see how she was doing.  With each of those texts I would invite her to our London Dismas group.  Sometimes she would respond back, other times, no.  Then one day recently, I got a response asking me if I could help her leave the city where, if she stayed, she would “either die or go to jail.”  She sounded distressed. That gave impetus to a series of text messages that resulted in an offer of a bus ticket to go home to where her family lives. I wasn’t going to be able to see her for a week but a colleague of mine in London was willing to put her on a bus that day.  I don’t think she expected such an immediate response and asked if it could wait until the end of the month so she could get her next social assistance cheque.  I agreed to get together with her the next time I was in the city and she gave me an address and a time to meet her and her latest “boyfriend.”

    I picked her up at the place she was staying, in the back of a mechanic’s garage. I took her boyfriend to his doctor’s appointment and her for a coffee so we could talk.  She related to me that during the past few months she had been: beaten up, had all her belongings stolen, evicted, homeless, bouncing from man to man and, through it all, injecting opiates into her veins.  Now she knew she needed to get out. In spite of all she has experienced, she still maintained that naïve innocence. It was so very clear to me that although she was scared and didn’t like the lifestyle she was trapped in, she also didn’t believe she deserved anything better or different. Her worldview was stained by a sense of her own worthlessness and just reinforced by the people who had used her. Even though she knew life could be different, she had either lost, or was losing hope that it ever could be different for her. 

   I talked to her about the God who made her, sees her as precious, and loves her so much that he came to earth to die for her. She didn’t buy it.  She asked for proof.  She said: “I can’t see that God, where is he?” I talked about how I knew, from my own experience about Him.  I talked about people I know and am currently involved with whose lives are being radically changed by that God. I shared about how I believe He is working now, in her, and how He is showing He is real by reaching out to her. We spent about an hour together that day and I invited her and her boyfriend to join me that evening for a meal at the Dismas fellowship meeting.  She hummed and hawed and said she would think about it, but it seemed like a “no.”  She expressed nervousness about going to a church, feeling that she wouldn’t fit in.

    That afternoon, just as we were starting the Dismas fellowship, I sent her another text message, reminding her of the meeting and inviting her again.  She said, “yes”, so I went to pick her and her boyfriend up.  Maybe it was the promise of a meal that drew them.  Maybe it was that I had purchased a bus ticket out of town for her at the end of the month that convinced her she wanted to know more about what makes Christians tick. Or, maybe it was the fact that her brother had become a Christian recently and he had told her he was going to pray for her that made her change her mind and take a step of faith to join us that night.  I don’t know, but she came.  In the Dismas group she met others who were struggling with addictions.  She met others who had spent time being homeless, or in jail.  She heard their stories of relapse and recovery.  She heard of God’s grace and desire to rescue and redeem.  It was no longer so easy for her to say: “I don’t see God, where is he?”

     After the meeting, as I was driving them back to the garage, “Sam” talked about her brother and the changes she had seen in his life. She thanked me for inviting her to Dismas. I reminded her again of God’s desire to work in her and to give her a life she can feel good about.  I spoke with her of God’s purpose for her life. I will see “Sam” one more time I expect- when I go and pick her up and take her to the bus station so she can use the ticket. I told her that one-day, I hope to hear from her again, telling me that she is safe, that she is clean, and that she is now seeking the God who loves her so much that He was willing to die for her.  

     This world is messed up- because we are messed up.  As followers of Jesus we need to see past the dung heap with maggots crawling on it that Aldonza saw, and remind people like Sam, that the God who created the universe and made us in His image longs to transform each of us, and through us this “out of order” world.

Patience

2 Peter 3:9  (NIV)The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.

1 Cor. 13:4  (NIV)Love is patient, love is kind.

I am convinced that one of the most necessary ingredients for working with men and women recently released from prison, is patience. Patience smoothes over the bumps and cracks, allowing one to see past them to keep the eye on the goal: helping people grow to become like Jesus. 

Patience listens to the persons heart’s desire and doesn’t focus on their behaviour. This can protect the heart from discouragement as people struggle and sometimes fail after facing challenges and past issues that arise often and sometimes without warning.

Patience means not forcing our time-table on anyone but allowing them to grow and change at a pace that is sustainable for them

Patience allows for trust to develop, as the person we are supporting doesn’t feel we have an agenda or that they are a “project” with a timeline.

Patience prepares one for the long haul where recovery is sometimes measured in baby steps over years, not usually quick or easy. (The quick and easy progress often cloaks deeper, well-buried problems that will always eventually surface.)

It means that we don't give up on anyone. There may be needed times of rest when a break is required because the involvement has been so intense, but we don’t “wash our hands” and we don’t “close any doors.”

Patience is the fruit of a Spirit-filled life and flows from love.  When we lack it we need to look inside and not focus on the one we are impatient with.

Patience is elusive for many reasons.  One, is our own selfishness and self-centeredness.  Another is that we live in an age of quick fixes, when we look for immediate results. Unfortunately, real life is seldom like that. We can find patience though when we keep our own condition and moment-by-moment need of God's grace firmly fixed in our mind.

Patience is possible when ego isn't involved- a person’s recovery is about him/her, not a reflection on us and our effectiveness.
     

Patience is possible when we have a clear belief in a Heavenly Father who pursues and never stops extending His arms of love, inviting us to faith in Christ and obedience to His word.  I am so glad He pursued me. We can’t give up on people, because God doesn’t give up on us.

It was one of those days....

      ...when God moves.
        I share this story for no other reason than to remind myself, and whoever reads this, that God is there.
         Lil and I were at a point that we had decided to leave the Aftercare ministry of New Life Prison Ministry http://www.nlpm.com/.  I had applied for a full time position with a community agency because, after two years with New Life, our financial support had not reached a point where we didn't need to depend on a subsidy from the Ministry.  I felt that we were being a burden.  Added to that, the relief position I had been working at with a secular organization in order to supplement what NLPM could give to us, came to an end. We were facing a financial crunch and did not feel comfortable moving forward with NLPM and being a drain on its finances. I was confused and anxious about the next step. I was disappointed in myself too- how after so many years of seeing God's faithfulness in guiding and providing in our lives, was I allowing these circumstances to affect me?
       Leaving the aftercare ministry was not my desire. As I look back over the two years, I can point to God's hand working in the lives of a number of men and women who have come back into the community from prison and are doing well: attending church, working or studying and moving ahead in life. Others are still struggling to overcome huge barriers, like addictions issues or mental illness, and have been experiencing God's unconditional love and committment to them.  Through the two new Dismas Fellowship groups http://www.friendsofdismas.com/about-2/ministry-of-friendship/ in London and Cambridge a number of different Christians have had the opportunity of learning how to wisely care for folks who have experienced prison and all that comes along with it. "Returnees"desperately need the love, discipleship training and affirmation that the church can offer. The prospect of ending my involvement with aftercare was causing me to lose more than a couple of night's sleep. I couldn't figure out what God was saying.  Why had He not brought people forward to give to this work?  Why, after two years were we still needing to look for financial support from New Life Prison Ministry? Was God telling us- "Not you. Not this time." The need for someone (actually a whole team of people), to be involved in being there to support and encourage "returnees" is scandalously obvious.
     I was ready to leave though.  It was the only way of seeing our economic needs met without being a burden to a ministry we love and respect. I had applied for the full time position and had an interview in two days. I met with Gerrit and Susan Blok. They are our friends.  They have been and are our spiritual mentors.  They also give leadership to New Life and needed to know what I was thinking and the way it seemed God was leading.  As I shared my thoughts, they were supportive and understanding.  They, like Lil and I, were sad at the prospect of us leaving New Life Prison Ministry, but as we talked none of us could see a way forward.  We were confused by what God was doing: the needs are so obvious but the resources were not available. Gerrit asked: "What is your fleece?" as we talked about what it would take for me to stay with New Life. I had thought about it and said: "God will need to do something special this week- He will have to have someone call in and offer to support New Life with at least $500 for me to believe He wants us to keep on going.  We prayed, then I left to go into the local jail to visit a couple of men.  I had peace about leaving New Life, but no joy.
    Well, you can see where this is going- that phone call came in within half an hour from someone known to the ministry but not a regular supporter.  He said he had been reading his Bible and felt he needed to contact New Life.  During the phone conversation he asked questions and managed to pry out of Susan details about my time with them earlier that morning. He then assured them that the need would be met.  God had graciously and amazingly responded to the fleece with a message of: "I want the aftercare ministry to keep on going!"  Later that day, I was encouraged by two managers at a community agency to apply for a part-time position that was about to open up.  That part-time position, and the generous support being offered by the individual who phoned, will allow me to continue with NLPM in aftercare.  I cancelled the interview for the full-time position.
     I have shared this story this week with a number of people; "returnees" and others.  As I share with you faithful reader,  I want you to know and be encouraged- God is real. He does listen. He does let us know (sometimes after a period of waiting and silence) what He wants us to do and where He wants us to go.
    Please pray for New Life Prison Ministry. God has had and still does have His eye on it as we seek to share the message of God's love and purpose in Jesus Christ to men and women who have involvement with the criminal justice system. May our actions, attitudes and words help others to know how great God is.

Philippians 4:6,7  (NIV)

 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

     

Dismas in Action

Marty has abused alcohol for his whole adult life.  It has abused him too.   His relationship with it started when he was a young teen but he managed to patch together a career as a mechanic and truck driver.  Eventually his drinking caught up with him and a series of bad decisions resulted in the loss of his driver’s license, large fines and then jail time, a number of times.  He lost everything he had worked for: his family, a home, his business and all his retirement savings.  Marty is a trusting soul but those he trusted bilked him of all his assets and have now pretty much abandoned him.  In his 60’s now, he feels like a failure; betrayed and foolish.  I got to know him after his most recent release from jail, when he called me and asked for support in finding somewhere to live.  He was in a homeless shelter but proud of the fact that he had completed a few months of sobriety while incarcerated.   A year later he is still sober a year and, thanks be to God, in his own apartment.  He has a lot to feel good about.  When he lives in the present and focuses on what he has now he is fun to be around. Marty started attending a church and knows that God can give him the strength to go on. 

But Marty struggles with depression. His life-long relationship with alcohol has left him full of regrets and the feeling of loss plagues him.  It takes away his joy.  Sometimes he wonders why he even bothers trying and thinks about giving up.  At one of our recent Dismas Fellowship meetings, Marty was very much in that dark place.

In addition to joining a local church, he also joined the local Dismas group and his honesty and sense of humour make him an important part of our community.   A Dismas fellowship is a Christ-centred support group for ex-prisoners.  At every Dismas get-together we always take time to talk about life and God’s place in it. It usually starts with a reflection; prepared by one of the group to share with the rest.  Every reflection ends with a question that is meant to stimulate thought and allow people to either share how the theme relates to them or, if they don’t feel comfortable sharing, to pass.  The reflection question that night had centred on what God was doing and wants to do in our lives.  Marty was in a negative space when he arrived and when it was his turn to talk, he shared about his current struggles; his anger towards God and how he feels everything and everyone has turned against him.  He expressed confusion about God’s silence in unanswered prayers. He was saying that he wonders if God really loves him and is believing that everyone would be better off if he was dead.  Marty’s mind was firmly anchored in the past and was being flooded by regret and guilt, a place it usually camps out when he takes his eyes off Jesus and all the good that is in his life. That is why it is so important that he surround himself with a loving supportive community.  That night the Dismas community responded and gathered around him to pray with him and reassure him. That night, and since then, the group became the hands and feet of a loving God for Marty. The future is uncertain for him because of some big challenges ahead but the good thing is he won’t face it alone- after all; he belongs to a  Dismas Fellowship!

Pray for Marty.  Pray that he live in the moment and learn to forgive himself and others who have hurt him in the past.  Pray too for the Dismas groups in London and Cambridge and the volunteers that have pitched in to help.  Pray that God will use the groups to encourage and build up ex-prisoners as they seek to know and serve Him. Thanks for taking the time to read this and to pray. 

                The light still shines in the darkness

                and the darkness has never put it out.

    Yesterday I received a call from a medical center asking me to get a message to a fellow that I had referred to them, a fellow from the community that has addictions and mental health issues. He doesn't have a phone and has sort of dropped off the face of the earth. His Dr. has sent three letters advising him of an important appointment but he hasn't responded and has missed each appointment. As I know where he lives, I was asked to deliver the message personally. When I got there one of his neighbours opened the main entrance into the house for me and I went to his room and knocked on his door. At that point I heard a large dog go ballistic and a voice from inside demanding to know who I was. I replied: "My name is Tim and I am a support worker with a message from your doctor" and heard the response: "Open the door". The dog was still barking furiously so I prayed a little prayer and opened the door.  Just as I did, the dog charged through the small kitchen towards me, thankfully sliding to a stop, still furious and still barking, just short of my legs. In the small kitchen were seated two men who I have met before but was surprised to see there.  Both are notorious to the police and in the community for their use and trafficking of drugs, as well as other criminal activities. Both of them know me because I have been working in the lives of some of their "customers." We have bumped heads before. They have been partially responsible for the overdose deaths of a couple of my clients while I was with CMHA as well as the eviction and homelessness of at least one other. A number of others that I am still involved with are no longer their clients thanks to God working in their lives. They know we are on opposite sides. They are rough characters, deeply trapped in destructive lifestyles and showing no obvious interest in freedom at this point. Neither of them tried to restrain the dog as they glared at me from their chairs. My guess is that they wanted to see what would happen. I passed the message over to them with no confidence it will ever get to the man it was intended for, the man whose small apartment has been taken over by these two. I never saw him but did hear him speak from the back room. As I left I felt somewhat hopeless and fearful for the fellow whose doctor has gone out of his way to try and help. He has chosen his “friends” poorly.

    Today I am encouraged to pray for that man, and his two “friends” after reading John 1:5 The light still shines in the darkness and the darkness has never put it out.  With a truth like that to stand on, how can we stop hoping? This world can be a very dark place- we all know it. Where God is ignored or rejected there is darkness. We can all be touched by it and stained by it. What a tremendous foundation to build on when we remember that we who belong to Jesus share in His light and carry it with us wherever we go and that no matter how black things look, the darkness can never, ever extinguish the light. 

A Little Bit Can Go a Long Way

  "Hey, I just want to say to you
that I'm very grateful that you've came into my

life at this point. For the very FIRST time I feel like I'm actually being helped or

guided and I just wanna add that it feels great knowing I have someone there for me who I can go to that really does care and doesn't make me feel like I can't say certain things without being judged or looked down on. So thank you for being there and supporting and believing in me. I know we only met this summer but I know you've been there more than my own family and I feel like God answered my prayers from jail by sending you to me when I asked him to help me stay strong. I truly believe that more every time we talk I feel like "wow he actually made me feel better" sorry such a long text but I wanted to tell you how much you really are helping me by just being there.

Can we please meet up in a few days and finish the talk we were having??

 Thanks for listening."  

   I want to share this text message that came to me yesterday. A fellow I had spent 30 minutes visiting with earlier in the day sent it to me.  He is a young man who has struggled with addiction issues and has lived through a lot of trauma in his childhood- he grew up in a very violent and unstable environment and has been in and out of prison for much of his adult life. I have met with him perhaps five times after he was referred to me earlier this year. What struck Lil and I is that his text shows that it doesn't have to be a big thing we do in order to be used by God to encourage someone. It isn't all that complicated to do and it isn't necessary that we have a lot of skills or knowledge to be an effective help in the lives of others. We can be used to bring hope to others as we take time, and motivated by God's love, and make ourselves available to gracefully listen. People who need someone to care about them surround us. Some of them are like the young man who sent me this text message; others perhaps carry burdens that are not so evident. I am sure many of you who will read this have been used in the lives of others in the same way (feel free to leave examples in the comments section). I want to encourage you to keep going, to remember how important it is to just give people time and to be present with them as they share what is going on as they try to survive life with its many twists and turns, ups and downs. For others, I want to help you see that you have what it takes to be that person who is an encourager, an influence for God and for good as you rub shoulders with the people He brings into your life. If God brings them into your life, He will also give you grace to show His love and be that encouraging presence. Lets be all ears!

"Christians have forgotten that the ministry of listening has been committed to them by Him who is Himself the great listener and whose work they should share. We should listen with the ears of God that we may speak the Word of God.” 

  Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together: The Classic Exploration of Faith in Community

Testifying

  I was recently reading in John 16 about the time Jesus talked about the Holy Spirit coming to testify about him. Then he also says: “But you also must testify about me because you've been with me from the beginning.”  This then is my attempt at explaining how God has brought me to where I am now, especially focusing on His intervention in my life to turn me around. As I publish this, my only desire is to help others deepen in their faith and appreciation for the work of God in their lives. 

   During my teenage years I made some decisions that took me down a path that could've been disastrous. I decided that God didn’t make sense so I began telling people, and living like, I didn't believe in Him. As I look back now, it was more that He got in the way of me doing and being what I wanted to do and be. What I wanted was to live for myself and derive as much pleasure in my life as I could. Was this a conscious decision? No, I just sort of went with the flow, looked around me and decided I would just join in with other people were doing. That decision let me into alcohol and drugs. I only every tried “soft” drugs such as marijuana, hash and mushrooms (only one time.) I remember being offered LSD and pills various times but declaring that I didn’t want to put “unnatural chemicals in my body.” I started with heavy drinking patterns on weekends with my friends. Our drinking always was accompanied by loud, hard, angry rock music glorifying rebellion and expressed through drunkenness, drug use and sex with no strings attached.

  I knew better than this because of my family background but I rejected all my parents talked about.  I just wanted to have fun. Because of my attitudes and behaviours, even though I completed high school, I never actually graduated. Weeks after my final year I began travelling. I was attracted to a lifestyle of freedom, hitting the open road.  The “Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test” by Tom Wolfe, novels by Kurt Vonnegut and the lifestyle and philosophy of the Woodstock generation were my inspiration. This led me to a bohemian lifestyle of hitchhiking around Europe. To finance this I would work in Canada during the wintertime and as soon as I had enough money would leave. I wanted to get as far away from life in Canada as I could.  I hated my life and found it, and who I was, much more exciting on the road. I wasn't interested in sightseeing.  I wasn't interested in culture. I was seeking new experiences through new relationships, daily alcohol consumption and drug use. I remember more than once, when looking at my dwindling money supply, choosing to drink rather than buy food. That was my priority. I managed to stretch my time away from Canada longer and longer by picking up informal jobs and living as cheaply as I could- that meant camping out in parks at times, sleeping along the side of the road, in parks and train stations and for free at youth hostels where I would pick up janitorial work. I worked as a labourer at a construction site, in a restaurant for a few months, in a bread factory, at a corner store.

   After my 4th visit to Europe I realized that the old song was getting boring and the travelling life I sought was getting stale. It wasn't happening for me anymore. Even that “romantic” life on the road was becoming “the same old, same old.” Although it wasn’t from lack of trying, I wasn't capable of maintaining relationships because I was too self-centred. It really was all about me. My heart got broken a few times, and I returned to Canada knowing that Europe wasn't going to satisfy me. I kept on drinking, smoking and living my life centred on music and pleasure-seeking to escape the drudgery.       

   In terms of my spiritual life: I had dabbled in eastern meditation but really I was thinking and acting more like an existentialist. “So it goes” (Kurt Vonnegut) was one of my favourite phrases.  I was sliding into depression.  My outlook on life and the future was more shaped by negativism and pessimism than hope. I really didn't see much of a future. My “blueness” never led me to contemplate suicide but I do know that my journals reflected an inner darkness.  I didn’t think about the future because I had no idea who I was or where I was going. After returning to Canada the 4^th time, I knew I would not be going back to Europe for a 5th.  I was done.

   I joined a high school friend in his house in the country and found a job as a security guard. Punk music and its anger became part of my vocabulary. My job was unsuccessful and short-lived. I eventually got fired for consumption of drugs during my shift but not before I was involved in a pretty significant car accident.

   My friend and I had closed out a bar that night. As we got into the car to drive home we were very drunk. Drinking and driving was something that wasn’t foreign to me at all- I had grown up doing it, living out in the country as we had. Many times as teenagers, our only entertainment was to buy a “case of 24” and drive around with music blaring, using traffic signs and country mail boxes as targets for our empties. March 4, 197_ was a different night. Ontario had only recently brought in the, what I considered invasive seat belt law.  I did not obey it.  My rationale- no gov’t was going to tell me what to do. That night, as inebriated as I was, I remember clearly the powerful sensation telling me to “put your seat belt on.” That night, for some reason, I obeyed that voice and I did.  On the way home we hit a patch of ice on the road and the car spun out of control, flipped over a number of times and ended up wrapped around a telephone pole off the road. It all happened so violently and so fast and then there was silence, broken only by the unconscious moans of my friend. We were sideways; my feet had broken through the front windshield and were lying in a puddle of icy water in the ditch. I was alone with my thoughts and unable to move, trapped by that seat belt.  I didn’t feel any pain but I knew we were way out in the country and it was the middle of the night. I was trapped and couldn’t move. At that moment I prayed: “God, if you are there, I don’t want to die right now.” Eventually the fire truck and ambulance arrived and we were cut out of the car. There was concern for a gas explosion as they used a blowtorch to cut through the metal and extract us. One of the ambulance drivers told me: “We were told by the person who reported the accident that there were two dead guys in this car.”

   After a couple of painful weeks in the hospital with a cracked pelvis and bruised spleen, I was released.  My friend suffered a broken neck but we both recovered fully from our injuries. I look back now and wonder where my head was. It wasn’t more than a couple of months later that I remember driving into Hamilton under the influence of substances and thinking to myself: “Tim are you stupid or what!” 

    After I recovered completely and was able to get a job cutting sod, my mind started wandering again.  I had itchy feet and wanted to go back on the road.  I chose California as my destination because of a friendship I had made during my European years. That didn’t develop well and I soon found myself hitch-hiking around California alone. I went to San Francisco.  There I hooked up with a couple of other backpackers lost in the city and we got on a bus to find somewhere on its outskirts to pitch a tent.  The driver of the bus told us there were no campsites in the direction we were headed but another passenger, hearing we had no where to sleep, offered a space on his floor and breakfast along with it. He told us we had to agree to be on a panel the next morning at his class, and to “represent the counter-culture in America”.  We decided we would. Little did we know he was a Catholic priest and was teaching at a seminary in San Francisco.  His students came from a variety of different religious backgrounds and the next morning we found ourselves behind a table, facing them and their questions about our lives and beliefs. They asked us about our lifestyle and beliefs. I remember two questions that, although I answered them quickly and definitively, caused me problems.  The first was: “What do you believe about God?”  My response: “I don’t believe in God.”  My response seemed fake to me as the image of me being trapped in the car and calling out to Him came to my mind immediately.  The second question was: “What do your parents think about your lifestyle?”  My answer to that was a curt: “I don’t care what they think.” That was a lie too.  It went through my head like a flash- “they have never hurt you. They have never done anything but accept you and support you. You do care what they think.”  I left that room that day feeling uncomfortable with myself, like a hypocrite, and realizing my life was a farce.    

   I returned to Canada and managed to land a job in Brantford.  It was a tough one, working with children who were living with significant disabilities. It was a dirty job as it entailed cleaning their messes daily. It was a depressing job because it seemed to me that the kids I was working with weren’t going anywhere and had a pretty grim life ahead of them. I was living alone. It was Brantford, ON (apologies to any Brantfordites who may read this). I fell into a deeper depression and I felt the walls closing around me.  I could see no way forward. One Sunday I went to visit my parents and they had invited the speaker from their church for lunch.  After we ate he and I went to do the dishes and ended up having an important conversation. During our time he asked me: “Do you believe in God?” I quickly replied, (but again with the image of me trapped in the car in my mind) “No, I don’t”. He came back with: “Have you ever given God a chance?”  Faced again with my hypocrisy I had to acknowledge that I probably hadn’t and he challenged me to buy a Bible and begin reading in the book of John.  I told him I would, and I did.

   Initially, as I read, my attitude was “Yeah right. This is garbage” but then I remember clearly that I had said I would give God a chance, so as I sat in the crook of a tree along the Grand River in Brantford, I prayed: “God, if you are there, I want to give you a chance.”  After that things began to change and that book, the Bible, began to speak to me.  I don’t know how I ended up in Isaiah but I read a verse there that repeated itself two times: “There is no peace, says the Lord, for the wicked.” That verse hit me between the eyes.  I realized that what I did not have and that I had spent years seeking without finding it was peace.  I wanted inner peace.  I wanted to feel good in my skin.  I wanted to rest from the endless and fruitless pursuit of it through relationships, music, drugs and alcohol. I came to understand that it was only by getting right with God that I would find it.  I began to see as I read Jesus’ story that he came to give me peace: first of all with God, and then from that-inner peace. As I observed the response of those early disciples to Jesus and His words to them, I also came to understand that Jesus came to not only save but also give life a purpose. I was convinced about the person of Christ through my reading of John and through Frank Morrison’s book: “Who Moved the Stone,” an exploration of the historical reality of His resurrection from the dead. After a few months I got down on my knees and said: “God, I can’t fight you anymore. I am sorry for all the time I have wasted. I want you to take control of my life, I want to live for you.”

    Since then, I have been seeking God, through His word, through prayer and through His people, the church. I struggle with some of the same issues even now, at 56 years of age. I am selfish.  I am proud.  I want to be noticed. What people think of me is too important and can influence what I do and say. I still have issues with my thought life. I am judgmental of others. I am disappointed with my spiritual maturity and depth- I figure I should be much more like Jesus after 33 years of following Him. But, I do remember where I have come from.  I do remember clearly the emptiness of trying to make it without Him in my life. I do reflect on how He kept me and how He “got” to me. I am eternally grateful to Him for giving me peace, and for filling my life with purpose as I seek to put Him first and do what He has asked me and all of His followers to do: Luke 9:23: Deny myself, take up his cross daily and follow Him and to: “Go and make disciples of all nations…”

  This is a verse that challenges me every day: 2 Corinthians 5:15 “He died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves, but for him who died for them and was raised again.”

  I am ever thankful for His forgiveness and patience, fruits of His love for me. I depend on them each day as I stumble along. God has used and is now using many people to influence, teach and guide me.  And now, I have the wonderful privilege of having others inspire me as I watch them struggle for recovery and progress in their lives in my role in aftercare with New Life Prison Ministry (http://www.nlpm.com/). I want to learn from everyone who crosses my path- many have much to teach and I know I have much to learn.