the february-cold streets of portland’s illuminated city, sit silent and pensive at 3:06 in the early morning. creation continues to parade it’s stars and flashlight it’s moon, while the world below such beautiful pageantry sleeps. cars wisp by, carrying the wind and sound with them. two minutes pass and the lazy streets beneath my gaze continue in their slothful slumber.
i’m on the 6th floor, comfortably stretched out on the mediocre cushioned couch. the tenor snore and the soprano air-conditioning fan, sing a lovely duet, whirring my eyes to rest. but I can’t give in! i must resist! mr. lockert, a 93 year-old world war II veteran and purveyor of the classiest gentleman suits, needs me to be awake. he falls easily. or, he did fall and now he’s prone to falling even more so, due to his innocent fear of reliving what lead him to have 24-hour companionship. he’s doing better and he moves with the agility of a man who simply enjoys the short cuts in getting things done, i.e. me!
what are you doing there? you may ask. i’d ask it too. i mean, a single-white-faced young woman hanging out in a 93-year old’s apartment typing on her computer, sipping starbucks’ lifesaving invention of good-tasting instant coffee, would definitely lead me to question why not a day job, andrea?
some of you have been traveling this road with me for a while, sitting on the bandwagon eating apples and chucking old acorns at the greedy squirrels passing by (it’s three a.m. – don’t think too deeply about that one . . .in fact, just don’t think). i realize it’s been a while since the daisie has had a chance to petal-push her fingers with news of what’s happened, what is currently happening, and what may happen. so here I am!
let’s shove the daisie back down into the ground and see where she left off. i was employed at oregon right to life in the quiet, yet serene town (hardly a city) of salem. however, during november’s mid-term election, i along with many too-long-termed democrats, got removed from office. yup . . . i was voted out, let go. admittedly it was a difficult experience to swallow – never had i been let go from any job in my entire i-can’t-believe-i-have-to-call-myself-an-adult career! i was let go . . . as though that term implies that i was in a cage, barred from running around in the park and peeing on any tree i wanted (remember . . . 3 a.m.!). although my original reaction had my heart sinking, my confidence in myself earthquaking below sea level, and my new friendships hanging in the balance of will i ever see them again?, i walked away from my office that day in tears and arrived home in serenity. i must say that i loved working for the cause of life, being a voice for the voiceless.iI must also say that i loved the women that i worked with – giants of faith in a world that depreciates life quicker than new cars. fishes struggle to go against the current and only a few succeed. the women at oregon right to life succeed with every life saved – woman and child. but a huge part of my job was an aspect of life that from early on in my childhood had despised – politics. to me, this is what politics was: politics, pronounced paul-eh-ticks, the art of talking like you will do something, looking like you did something, and waving really elegantly so no one can see that hole in the armpit of your suit. basically, i had never had a positive feeling about it. however, and this is a hurkin’ HOW and essential EVER, but being in the position at oregon right to life, i began to understand it deeper. not that my definition had changed, but my approach to politics had changed. rather than be a careless stand-byer, i became a careful go-getter. sure, politics is politics. but i saw how even having a voice in politics for something right, something good, can make a difference. it won’t change everything all at once, only the Lord can change things. but it does get the ripple going in the water.
so in a long-winded approach to tell you, i was very sad to leave those dear ladies and leave the cause that i had emotionally and spiritually invested so much of myself in. and in the same breath, i was relieved. i felt free. free to do what i was created to do – go back overseas.
since that november afternoon, much has happened and yet so much more lies ahead. in brief (no, i don’t wear men’s underwear . . . 3 a.m., remember?), i was able to do some temporary seasonal work at the woodburn columbia store and continue to teach speech at corban university until the end of the fall term. i decided to take a sabbatical from working and stay at home to help my once-very-pregnant friend (who’s baby is now just shy of 3 days old) with her 1.56 year-old. the beauty of unemployment is that there is freedom! ah, to wake up at just about any time you wanted, schedule your day however you wanted, and stay up late reading and talking til’ however late you wanted. it was great! it was money-sucking. i lived off my last paycheck and some savings, but money was running out. acquaintances would pop up at random places with job offers that for one, felt awkward to pursue since i barely knew the person and two, the offers were for positions i knew a square peg like me would never be sanded to fit a round hole. employment opportunities would quickly close even though i was pursuing them. it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that a friend of mine had mentioned a job opening at her work, terwilliger plaza. she mentioned the position was for an in-home care provider at a ritzy independent living retirement home in downtown portland. I told her well, i don’t sense the Lord leading me to work there. and then immediately the Lord interjected, He said well, I don’t sense you prayed or even talked to Me about working there, did you andrea? it’s a good thing He’s Him! so i prayed, i talked to my father about it. and here we are, sitting up into wee hours of the night with mr. lockert and his snoring. (i will say this will be the last 12-hour night shift I will ever do. my hats off to you 12-hour night shift nurses and doctors! wow!)
my new job isn’t the only new petal to bloom on my stem. my church, my home community, has had a huge car-accident dent on my life – it’s that big, that damaging . . . in a wonderful, wonderful way. for years and years, specifically these past few years, i’ve been on my knees crying out to God where do i go? what country? here am i! send me!! no country was ever brought to mind. no city, people group or even landscape became appealing! i felt like a compass spinning out of control, not knowing where to stop because the direction mechanism was broken. i was that direction mechanism. what if i had been praying the wrong thing? what if i was asking for chocolate ice cream but really should have been asking for goat cheese? (yup . . . fill in the blank ____ a.m.) instead of asking where why not start asking with whom?
lightbulbs everywhere – 40 watt, 60 watt, 120 watt, fluorescent, christmas, LED . . you name it, they were going off. i began to pray with whom, Lord? my heart has always been people – not to meet material needs (because we’ve done enough damage doing that), but spiritual, relational and emotional needs. those go deeper and are the root of all the material problems in our world! handing out rice to poverty stricken village is like slapping a bandaid on a gaping wound. the people are still left bleeding.
what can i say about my home church? to give a clear and understandable understanding of the gospel community that i am blessed to be a part of, i will say that we are known as an acts 29 church. if you read in the book of acts, chapter 29, you’ll see that the early church met in homes, worshipping the Lord and reading His scriptures. that is what my home church is – the body and the blood of Christ in portland (if you’re still skeptical like i was, you can visit http://www.breadandwine.org). i’ve realized how much of my western christianity has diminished the Jesus of the Bible and has boxed the God of the old testament. i’ve realized how much i’ve missed while living an independent go-to-church-twice-a-week-cause-that’s-enough-to-give-you-community life. i’ve realized how short i’ve become of the true definition of what it means to be truly called a child of God. no wonder i was no different than the world. i can’t completely pen what God has written during these past few months. but in regards to leading me back overseas, He’s provided that ‘with whom’ that i’ve been praying for.
in the fall of this year, my home church is looking to do a church plant in pune, india. pune is known as the oxford of the east with a vast population of collegiate students from all over the world. their hope is to establish an acts 29 church for unichs, untouchables even by the ‘church’ in india because they are simply unichs. they also desire to help organize and manage an orphanage that is overflowing with parent-less children and under-flowing with rest-less workers. high-caste hindus are rarely reached and yet the high castes are the most influential in this one-of-the –highest-poverty stricken-countries in the world. along with all of these needs, is the partnership in aiding a woman by the name of mommy. mommy rescues children in the ‘red-light district’ of pune – a district where mothers prostitute themselves for income and the children reap the harvest of their mother’s actions. they are subject to child trafficking, sex-abuse, slavery, or simply hiding under the bed while their mother’s go to ‘work’. the needs are great, but there are laborers. since the church plant goals were placed before me, i have daily been committing and submitting my desire to go to india to the One who loves those people exceptionally more than i could. i am confident that the Lord will lead me when He so desires.
along with the church planting in pune, the Lord is using our gospel community to reach the people of portland. next week will be our first luke 14 love dinner. Jesus told the guests at that particular dinner (luke 14:12-14) to invite the poor, the maimed, the blind and the crippled into your home when you have a feast, for they cannot repay you. Jesus told His disciples many things, and i’m seeing how little of them i have obeyed. luke 14 love dinner is just that – bringing the homeless, the maimed, the blind and the crippled into our home – not into a ‘shelter’ – but into the very place that will give them the place of honor, the place of friend. we’ve been aiming to establish relationships with the homeless that are out on the street and there are so many of them. we pray that the house overflows and that these people know what it means to be truly loved. a few of us have also been going to bus stops, MAX (portland’s electric-train public transportation) stations or wherever large clumps of people gather, serving them coffee, conversing with them and sharing with them the Gospel. it’s all for Him – none of what i have experiences is for any other glory or honor but the Lord’s. He knows i couldn’t or wouldn’t do this on my own – it’s too uncomfortable for me. and by it, i’ve been blessed to meet michelle, larry and cory and hopefully more who just need someone to care, to truly care.
i am pleased to let you know that it is now 4:30 in the morning and am hoping this all still makes sense. more than that, i pray that you are encouraged to see and hear what God is doing, can do if His people are willing. a question was posed to our home church that if we were to leave the city of portland, would people miss us? would the city of portland miss our home church? right now, i can honestly say ‘no’. sure, they may despise the gospel message, hate our love and reject our service. but in the end, they would still miss us? we must be different than the world. we must be contrary to modern christianity that stays in the pews and true to the Jesus Christ of the Bible Who stayed in the streets. because we didn’t just do social justice work. anyone can do that. no, they should miss us because we were Him. that is why.
my hope is that when this daisie is plucked, that the world will miss her. not because she liked to smile or play the piano. but because she genuinely loved. and that love was only ever because of the Savior that died for her, the Father who loved her and the King who forgave her. i pray in the end they won’t go looking for the daisie but for the One who planted her.
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