My God Gives Chances

CHAPTER FIVE

Congregational wisdom and regenerative networks

“When our days become dreary with low hovering clouds of despair, and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us remember that there is a creative force in this universe, working to pull down the gigantic mountains of evil, a power that is able to make a way out of no way and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows. Let us realize the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.”

Martin Luther King, Jr.

Paula met her friend Obie at the local restaurant for lunch to plan a work presentation. Meeting outside of the office felt like a good change. As they sat down to look at the menu, Paula saw Obie’s pen. It was a silver pen with his name engraved on it. She picked it up to admire it. Obie looked at her and laughed. “I’ve got quite a story for you today, Paula.”

My God Gives Chances

“I was driving through the neighborhood one day and saw a man getting beaten up. As an outreach worker, I knew him well. Ron was a mess—always in trouble, battling mental illness and addiction. So I pulled over, broke up the fight, calmed everyone down, and put Ron in my car to keep him safe. A little later, I was outside the car, talking with another man who needed help. I fumbled in my jacket pocket, looking for a pen to write his information down. Then Ron popped out of the car, pulled a pen out of his pocket and offered it to me.” Obie chuckled as he remembered. “Well…it was my pen. He’s in my car, and he’s stolen my pen. Everything I got in my car he’s stolen. He’s got a pocketful of my change in his pocket, my phone charger, some peppermints from my cubby, and even an old hankie. He’s stolen everything.” “In the moment, I felt myself getting angry, getting an attitude. The blood rose to my head. I thought to myself, ‘I just saved your butt. And you have turned around and stolen everything.’ But instead of yelling at Ron, I said, as calmly as possible, ‘Take the stuff out of your pockets. Put it back. Give me my pen.’ Ron tried to argue, but I pointed out that the pen had my name on it, so that was the end of that.”

Paula looked at Obie as he spoke. She knew he liked to teach by example, which was a great modeling of a trauma-informed response. Obie had felt himself judging, wanting to strike back. But he managed his feelings and centered himself before responding.

“... Even though I drifted away from the church, I had many spiritual encounters that kept me connected to a sense that God was with me. ...”

A moment of patience and care

When she asked him about what went through him, he replied. “The best practice says you are working with an individual with undermined coping skills, strategies, and living skills. This is survival for him. Just like somebody was patient enough with you to teach you a different way to live, here’s your opportunity. Every day I look for these opportunities.” “Where did you find that moment of patience and care?” Obie shrugged, “It came from a long journey of struggle. My mother died when I was in 5th grade, and I carried the pain of her death deep in my mind and heart. I was very attached to her, and she had a knack for making me feel special. For example, when my little brother was born, and I was jealous, she called me her “biggie, biggie, baby” and that reassured me that I was important to her. After her death, my father provided for me and my brother. Still, he couldn’t support us emotionally. When I was in my late teens, I started experimenting with drugs to manage my feelings, and I spent many of my young adult years high… drifting.” Paula nodded as she listened. “What helped to change your life around?”

Obie was still for a moment. “My mother always took us to church when we were little, so when I was in church, it felt like she was there. Even though I drifted away from the church, I had many spiritual encounters that kept me connected to a sense that God was with me. I felt He was a comforter and a presence who protected me and gave me hope that I could overcome addiction someday. In 1987, homeless and living on the streets, I finally entered treatment, found the 12-Step movement, and got clean.” Paula felt great warmth towards Obie. Over the years, she had seen him work with the homeless community and felt in awe of his kindness and skill. She knew that he was deeply trusted by people in the community, especially the most marginalized. People would often say to him, “No way you slept up under a bridge!? No way you ate food out of a trash can! No way, Mr. Johnson! No way!” To these people, it’s a source of hope that he has made it through. He now serves as Team Lead for the Empowerment Project, a street outreach program for homeless adults and families. “How did you come to do this work?” she asked.