Tuesday, October 24, 2006

is rescue really possible?

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by Jamie Tworkowski

Pedro the Lion is loud in the speakers, and the city waits just outside our open windows. She sits and sings, legs crossed in the passenger seat, her pretty voice hiding in the volume. Music is a safe place and Pedro is her favorite. It hits me that she won't see this skyline for several weeks, and we will be without her. I lean forward, knowing this will be written, and I ask what she'd say if her story had an audience. She smiles. "Tell them to look up. Tell them to remember the stars."

I would rather write her a song, because songs don't wait to resolve, and because songs mean so much to her. Stories wait for endings, but songs are brave things bold enough to sing when all they know is darkness. These words, like most words, will be written next to midnight, between hurricane and harbor, as both claim to save her.

Renee is 19. When I meet her, cocaine is fresh in her system. She hasn't slept in 36 hours and she won't for another 24. It is a familiar blur of coke, pot, pills and alcohol. She has agreed to meet us, to listen and to let us pray. We ask Renee to come with us, to leave this broken night. She says she'll go to rehab tomorrow, but she isn't ready now. It is too great a change. We pray and say goodbye and it is hard to leave without her.

She has known such great pain; haunted dreams as a child, the near-constant presence of evil ever since. She has felt the touch of awful naked men, battled depression and addiction, and attempted suicide. Her arms remember razor blades, fifty scars that speak of self-inflicted wounds. Six hours after I meet her, she is feeling trapped, two groups of "friends" offering opposite ideas. Everyone is asleep. The sun is rising. She drinks long from a bottle of liquor, takes a razor blade from the table and locks herself in the bathroom. She cuts herself, using the blade to write "FUCK UP" large across her left forearm.

The nurse at the treatment center finds the wound several hours later. The center has no detox, names her too great a risk, and does not accept her. For the next five days, she is ours to love. We become her hospital and the possibility of healing fills our living room with life. It is unspoken and there are only a few of us, but we will be her church, the body of Christ coming alive to meet her needs, to write love on her arms.

She is full of contrast, more alive and closer to death than anyone I've known, like a Johnny Cash song or some theatre star. She owns attitude and humor beyond her 19 years, and when she tells me her story, she is humble and quiet and kind, shaped by the pain of a hundred lifetimes. I sit privileged but breaking as she shares. Her life has been so dark yet there is some soft hope in her words, and on consecutive evenings, I watch the prettiest girls in the room tell her that she's beautiful. I think it's God reminding her.

I've never walked this road, but I decide that if we're going to run a five-day rehab, it is going to be the coolest in the country. It is going to be rock and roll. We start with the basics; lots of fun, too much Starbucks and way too many cigarettes.

Thursday night she is in the balcony for Band Marino, Orlando's finest. They are indie-folk-fabulous, a movement disguised as a circus. She loves them and she smiles when I point out the A&R man from Atlantic Europe, in town from London just to catch this show.

She is in good seats when the Magic beat the Sonics the next night, screaming like a lifelong fan with every Dwight Howard dunk. On the way home, we stop for more coffee and books, Blue Like Jazz and (Anne Lamott's) traveling Mercies.

On Saturday, the Taste of Chaos tour is in town and I'm not even sure we can get in, but doors do open and minutes after parking, we are on stage for Thrice, one of her favorite bands. She stands ten feet from the drummer, smiling constantly. It is a bright moment there in the music, as light and rain collide above the stage. It feels like healing. It is certainly hope.

Sunday night is church and many gather after the service to pray for Renee, this her last night before entering rehab. Some are strangers but all are friends tonight. The prayers move from broken to bold, all encouraging. We're talking to God but I think as much, we're talking to her, telling her she's loved, saying she does not go alone. One among us knows her best. Ryan sits in the corner strumming an acoustic guitar, singing songs she's inspired.

After church our house fills with friends, there for a few more moments before goodbye. Everyone has some gift for her, some note or hug or piece of encouragement. She pulls me aside and tells me she would like to give me something. I smile surprised, wondering what it could be. We walk through the crowded living room, to the garage and her stuff.

She hands me her last razor blade, tells me it is the one she used to cut her arm and her last lines of cocaine five nights before. She's had it with her ever since, shares that tonight will be the hardest night and she shouldn't have it. I hold it carefully, thank her and know instantly that this moment, this gift, will stay with me. It hits me to wonder if this great feeling is what Christ knows when we surrender our broken hearts, when we trade death for life.

As we arrive at the treatment center, she finishes: "The stars are always there but we miss them in the dirt and clouds. We miss them in the storms. Tell them to remember hope. We have hope."

I have watched life come back to her, and it has been a privilege. When our time with her began, someone suggested shifts but that is the language of business. Love is something better. I have been challenged and changed, reminded that love is that simple answer to so many of our hardest questions. Don Miller says we're called to hold our hands against the wounds of a broken world, to stop the bleeding. I agree so greatly.

We often ask God to show up. We pray prayers of rescue. Perhaps God would ask us to be that rescue, to be His body, to move for things that matter. He is not invisible when we come alive. I might be simple but more and more, I believe God works in love, speaks in love, is revealed in our love. I have seen that this week and honestly, it has been simple: Take a broken girl, treat her like a famous princess, give her the best seats in the house. Buy her coffee and cigarettes for the coming down, books and bathroom things for the days ahead. Tell her something true when all she's known are lies. Tell her God loves her. Tell her about forgiveness, the possibility of freedom, tell her she was made to dance in white dresses. All these things are true.

We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless. We don't get to choose all the endings, but we are asked to play the rescuers. We won't solve all mysteries and our hearts will certainly break in such a vulnerable life, but it is the best way. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we're called home.

I have learned so much in one week with one brave girl. She is alive now, in the patience and safety of rehab, covered in marks of madness but choosing to believe that God makes things new, that He meant hope and healing in the stars. She would ask you to remember.



It's a fact of life: Depression hurts. but it doesn't have to be that way. I think of the years I struggled with depression and have watched my friends go through it, rendering me speechless. how do you love someone who won't love back, who is searching for love in the wrong places, and who is broken beyond belief. Renee was one of those people. Jamie was the Jesus Renee saw. through a enormous act of love, she is in the arms of Jesus because of it. When are we gonna get a clue that America's young people are suffering and that the media is feeding nothing but a bunched of fucked up lies! It's no secret we live in a fucked up society (and I use these words with utmost discretion. I think it's an appropriate time.) where sex is currency and nothing matters. Can we change that, I'm not so sure yet. It's something i'm personally struggling with. Can we change the world for the better, and are we supposed to or is it God who is in control? Is rescue really possible? I've heard it said that suffering brings God glory, and I believe it, but when someone suffers against God's intentions, then what do we do because we have no way of distinguishing what is of God and what isn't of God. In all rationality, I look at the character of Jesus and I see that He loved under the most mundane of circumstances. He did not condemn. The great Commandment sums it up pretty well (Matthew 22: 37-39) " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments." this is just something I'm wrestling with in my current journey.

thoughts...ideas...




Saturday, October 14, 2006

love wins

yesterday (October 14th) i had the priveledge of visiting the city of Berkeley California. It's one of those postmodern cities, with a lot of different people. Berkeley is the home of UC Berkeley, a world renowned institution. a lot of college students are around. we were there for thrift shops and used CD stores (because we who doesn't love browsing for vintage stuff). as we step out of the car onto the street, i immediately noted the area. there was a church group on the side of one street singing worship songs and preaching the gospel and passing out tracts. as we walked down the streets were laden with vendors and homeless beggars. a block down was an eastern religious cult of "spiritual yoga" passing out pamphlets. a block further was a group that I'm not quite so sure what was. i also saw a bunch of people handing out books on Scientology and "Dianetics." we had a good time walking around and searching for stuff. it was a great day, but i just couldn't get my mind off of that Christian group. after a while it hit me. that church group was doing nothing different from any of the other religious groups on that street. if a non-Christ follower was bombarded with numerous facts about several religious faiths, what do you think will happen. chances are, they're gonna look at it as religious propaganda and not read any of it. now, remember the gospel is in all this religious clutter, and it doesn't get read either. more than likely people are going to be turned off by such presentations of religion rather than turned toward it. while i commend that church group's heart for the gospel and for witness and evangelism, i don't think it was very effective at all, because it was no different than any of the other religious groups. the key word here is "different." Christ calls us a His followers to be different than this world. i shall ask, what would it look like if we took on a different approach to the gospel. if we understood that people need love more than anything. if we went to them, on their turf, in their gutter, to meet their needs. what if all we did was love them. sure, we let people know that were Christ followers but we don't force them to believe it, but we just live out a Holy example of Christ's love to them. the other key word here is LOVE. love wins. you see, that church group on the street was trying to scar people into accepting the gospel because "the wrath of God will judge them", but i think they missed the point. the point of the gospel isn't to scar people into salvation. how often did Jesus condemn people for sinning? NEVER! what did he do? He loved! Even on the cross, as he suffered, he loved. Not only did he love, but he forgave sins. often times i think we look at the world with a boastful "thank God i'm not like them" attitude, when according to the Bible, the sin of partiality is no worse than the sin of homosexuality. we need to love this world, not condemn it. God is the final judge, not us. we need to converse, to immerse, and to saturate this world with the love of Christ. love wins.

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

emergent

millions around the United States and the world are discovering a refreshment to what was known as the "jesus movement" of the 1970s and hence gave birth to modern "evangelicalism." the emergent church, originated in the mind of author and Pastor Brian D. McLaren, is sweeping the nation, for people who just don't feel connected to the church anymore. this movement mainly consists of youngling college age students (while McLaren himself is 50 years old). why? here's the deal. would you agree that our western culture is shifting and moving rapidly? in 2002, the term "blog" did not exist in american vocabulary. Now, everyone knows what a blog is, right? This cultural and philosophical shift is what we refer to as Post-Modernism. What's that? Post-Modernism is the response to the philosophy of monderism? well, what's that? modernism is basically a human philosophy shaped by the elements of modern culture. look at it this way, throughout history Christians have had to deal with new situations in the church. it happen in the 17th century, with a guy named Martin Luther. the church had to re-emerge from what it had become. the Roman Catholic church had changed it's position on theology and Christ's diety and atonement. Luther recognized that problem, and hence wrote his 95 Thesis (95 consecutive reasons why the 17th century Roman church was incorrect in it's theology). is culture not emerging today? Absolutely! And Christians have to deal with the issues faced into today's relevant cultural landscape. If you say the word "Christian" in today's society, what happens? Stereotypes? Christians are: anti-gay, pro-war, republican, anti-poor, hateful, uncompassionate. and what was Jesus? He loved gays, despised wars (but predicted that some are inevitable), was NOT a political figure, loved everyone, and was the most compassionate historical figure to ever walk this earth. what's better to say, to tell a gay person "you're gay, and you need to turn from your sins" or to say "you are forgiven, Jesus loves You, and so do we" ? this essence of the emergent movement is this idea the culture is constantly "emerging" and that we must respond to it in a way that is relevant and active. we must share the love of Christ with everyone, at whatever means or cost it takes. you see, Jesus loved us so much that he died for us. he died for people he didn't know, that rejected him (remember the theif on the cross?), for people that hated him. He loved them so much. what did he say "Father forgive them, for they know not what they are doing." Nevertheless, the church is emerging and we need to embrace cultural differences. what are your thoughts. this is not just my blog. this is for anyone who has thoughts, ideas, feelings. SPILL!

Monday, October 09, 2006

a breif introduction

this is the story of my life. who i am, what i'm going through. where i've been, where i'm at. what's on my mind. unpublished works of my poetry, songs, writings. this is who i am. this is my way to breathe out my fresh ideas. Granted, Multnomah is a great way to do that, too! I want to point out a few things. first, the colour scheme. why white on green? two reasons, 1) they are two of my favorite colors and 2) I'm not sure if anyone remembers the old child evangelism method known as the "wordless book", it's a book of colors that supposed to give the gospel message to younglings. Well, white stands for our souls and hearts after we accept Jesus, white as snow. pure. forgiven. clean. eternally saved. green: that's about our life as Christ followers, as we "grow" in descipleship of Christ. Secondly, what will be addressed on this blog? ANYTHING. Nearly anything that comes not just to my mind, but your mind's as well. Have a question for me? Disagree? Let me know, and I'll post a response on here! This is not a personal "journal", this is a converstation with the world around me, as i seek to find out more of this journey God has put us on. So, breathe!

In Christ Alone,
Jeremy