stories

Room in the Inn

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I realized today that I have been serving in the Room in the Inn ministry at Brentwood Baptist Church for 15 years. I saw the post where a friend invited me to join him and a few others on Monday nights to help minister to the homeless men who need a place to stay on those cold winter nights.

It’s been a blessing from day one. I know that I originally went in with the mindset of being a blessing to those men but more often than not they have been the ones to bless me with their resilient faith and tenacity in the face of overwhelming odds.

These days, a typical Room in the Inn Monday night looks like welcoming 24 men into our church building. We line up in the hallway and clap and cheer as they come in from the bus. They’re not just visitors. They are guests and we want them to feel like rock stars — we want them to know that they are wanted and loved.

Then we serve them a warm meal and sit with them and talk with them. Hopefully, we find out some of their stories. Many are open and willing to share their journey with us. We also have a place for them to write out their prayer requests that we will then faithfully pray over in the days and weeks to come.

The highlight of the evening for me is when we offer a Bible study. It’s completely optional. We don’t force them to come but we try to encourage them as much as possible to attend. I’ve been blessed to be able to lead some of these Bible studies along with a few others.

For those who are looking for a low-risk high reward way to serve, Room in the Inn meets at the Wilson Hall entrance to Brentwood Baptist Church on Mondays starting at 5:30 pm. It’s completely self-funded and is one of many locations through Room in the Inn that offer a place for people to stay out of the elements and weather for the night.

I always remember the words of Jesus when He said that whatever you did to the least of these, you did it for Him. Mother Teresa called those in poverty and homelessness Jesus in His most distressing disguise. I know that to share the love of Christ is our main goal and focus from now until the end of the season at the end of March.

The Houses that Built Me

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A couple of years ago, my family got the opportunity to revisit some of the old houses where I lived, as well as my grandparents’ houses. It was a fun trip down memory lane, but I realized one thing.

I didn’t get the wave of nostalgia that I was expecting. Some of the houses had changed quite a bit, but some looked the same. The difference was that the people I loved weren’t there anymore. Some have moved away, some have gone to heaven.

It wasn’t the brick and mortar that I truly loved. It was the people inside. It was the memories we made within the walls of each of the houses. Today, if I were given the chance to wander through these houses, I doubt I’d recognize very much. I’m sure a lot has changed in the 30+ years since I was last there.

Sometimes, I think I want to step into the past, if only for a moment. I just want to be a fly on the wall and revisit some old memories. I just want to see the faces and hear their stories. The older I get, the more trouble I have remembering what they looked like or what their voices sounded like.

But I’m thankful. I’m grateful for everything I learned, every experience I had in these places, both good and bad. I think who I am now was shaped by the people who lived there. I carry a little bit of each and every one of them with me.

One of the rewards of heaven will be seeing all the old faces again. Maybe they’ll all be young again. They will have all their memories back. They won’t be fragile or in pain. It will be just like old times — even better, since Jesus will be there.

I hope that the people living in those homes are making new memories. Maybe one day a long time from now, someone will drive up and instantly be able to conjure up a million scenes from the past that they can think about and smile.

Telling Stories

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“Child,’ said the Lion, ‘I am telling you your story, not hers. No one is told any story but their own” (C.S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy).

I’m beginning to understand that we all have different stories. We also have different seasons and struggles. I am in the middle of a career transition. I overheard where someone else has a parent dealing with a cancer diagnosis. Yet someone else I know has struggled within the past year with mental health issues.

Each story is different. Each struggle is unique. It’s no good for me to compare my story with someone else’s and to either think that mine doesn’t matter because it’s not a potentially terminal diagnosis or that I have it way worse because someone else might have an ingrown toenail.

The Bible doesn’t say God never gives us more than we can handle. Often, it’s way beyond our capacity to bear so that we are forced to lean in on the Lord for daily strength. He does give us grace equal to the struggle. He does promise to be with us in each season.

In each story, the testimony is that God is able. I am in as much need of God’s continual grace and strength as anyone else alive right now on this planet. My need is no more or less than theirs. And my God is equally up to the task.

That’s the beauty of intercessory prayer. I enter into your story and you enter into mine. We share each others burdens and magnify the name of Jesus equally. Sometimes, we can speak words when the other has none or believe for the other when they can’t find the faith at the moment.

The best part is that God is always the hero of our stories and we can rest assured that in every case we know that God works all things together for good and for a happy ending.

The Last Sunday

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There’s something a little sad about last things. Even if you know something better is coming, it doesn’t mean that you won’t be sad about the ending.

I got a little emotional singing the Doxology for the last time at The Church at Avenue South’s last service at 2510 8th Ave S. I know the new campus on 901 Acklen Ave will be so much better in so many ways, but it’s hard to deny 10 years of history.

As my pastor reminded us all, when we set out to plant a church in the Melrose/Berry Hill area of Nashville back in 2013, many “experts” said we’d never be able to find suitable property. Even if we did, we’d never be able as a church to compete with other bidders or afford space to accommodate our needs.

But God. That’s how all the best stories start. God showed up. A property opened up that was exactly what we needed at the time. The owner was the son of a pastor. His name was Gabriel. Does it get any more God-ordained than that?

Fast forward 8 or so years later and we’re looking for a permanent home. Again, those in the know said we’d never find it in the area we felt called to serve. But God stepped in again. A church half a mile away had relocated to Hermitage and wanted to sell the property to another church to keep the gospel presence intact in the neighborhood. They left money on the table to sell to us versus selling to a developer.

God’s fingerprints are all over the move, yet it’s still a goodbye. We’re saying goodbye to a building where so many God-moments have taken place. We’ve seen God show up time and time again. So many of us (including me) are different people than we were when we first walked into 2510 8th Ave S. We are more like Jesus.

There are not many left from those early days in 2014, but everyone who has been in the building for 10 years, 10 months, 10 days, or 1 day has a story to tell about how God met them in that place.

May there be many more stories to tell in the years to come at 901 Acklen Ave.

Prone to Wander

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“Robert Robinson had been saved out of a tempestuous life of sin through George Whitfield’s ministry in England. Shortly after that, at the age of twenty-three, Robinson wrote the hymn, ‘Come, Thou Fount. Come, Thou Fount of ev’ry blessing, Streams of mercy, never ceasing, Call for songs of loudest praise’.

Sadly, Robinson wandered far from those streams and like the Prodigal Son, journeyed into the distant country of carnality. Until one day—he was traveling by stagecoach and sitting beside a young woman engrossed in her book. She ran across a verse she thought was beautiful and asked him what he thought of it. ‘Prone to wander— Lord, I feel it— Prone to leave the God I love’. Bursting into tears Robinson said, ‘Madam, I am the poor unhappy man who wrote that hymn many years ago, and I would give a thousand worlds, if I had them, to enjoy the feelings I had then.’

Although greatly surprised, she reassured him that the ‘streams of mercy’ mentioned in his song still flowed. Mr. Robinson was deeply touched. Turning his ‘wandering heart’ to the Lord, he was restored to full fellowship” (Kenneth W. Osbeck, 101 Hymn Stories).

I love a good back story, especially when it comes to how hymns were composed. It’s no coincidence that the very words Robert Robinson penned were exactly the words he needed to hear when he had wandered from his faith. God used his own words to speak to him and woo him back.

God still speaks to us in a variety of ways, but primarily through His word. I think so many of us — me included — will go through the day with our Bibles closed and wonder why we haven’t heard from God.

I remember when I got my very first Bible as a first grader, the pastor wrote in the inside of the cover, “This Book will keep you from sin, or sin will keep you from this book.”

How true that has been. We need God’s word and God’s people around us to help us find the way back when we’ve wandered. We may be prone to wander, but God is always faithful to bring His wayward child back.

Last Room in the Inn of the Season

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I always get a little sad at the end of the Room in the Inn season. I know I will miss seeing all the people until we kick off the new season in November. More than anything, my head is still spinning from how fast these last five months have flown by.

This year I got to teach more in the Bible study. I saw more of the homeless men showing up to hear God’s word taught and really lean in to learning about God’s way of living. Plus, I love seeing the faithfulness of those core volunteers who have been with the ministry for such a long time.

I can’t remember exactly, but I think a friend named Brad Johnson told me about this ministry and invited me to check it out way back in 2012, give or take a year or two. I know it’s been a minute or two ago. That was when I really saw the impact of Room in the Inn to give people a warm place to spend the night and a good meal and a hot shower.

I’ve heard stories of God’s faithfulness in the lives of these men and how they still trust in Jesus in spite of all the hardships of being homeless. I’ve seen homeless men who know the Bible and can quote verses way better than I can.

I see homelessness less and less as a stigma and more of a “there but by the grace of God go I” kind of thing. For some it’s a choice, but for others it’s simply a bad financial break or the loss of a job or an unexpected medical expense.

I remember a book I read that basically said that in a sense we’re all homeless because this world we’re living in isn’t really home. We’re following Jesus as best we can on our way to our real forever home. Room in the Inn is a good reminder of that.

More 90s CCM Goodness

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I’ve been listening to a podcast series by Andy Chrisman lately. Or more accurately, I’ve been watching Youtube videos of a podcast series by Andy Christman. They’re all centered around the Christian music industry and a lot of the stories revolve around 90s CCM.

To me, the 90s were the best decade for Christian music. There was such a diversity of talent and sounds that invaded radio stations all over the country. And that was back when radio stations had actual playlists of more than 15 songs.

For me to hear any Christian song from the 90s will take me back to the moment when I first heard it. Most likely, I can tell you the artist, the song and even the album title. I’d probably be really good at trivia centered around 80s and 90s Christian music.

But hearing the stories behind the songs from artists like 4Him and Russ Taff just makes their message more meaningful. To hear the struggles and hardships that the artists went through makes me appreciate them all the more. It also makes me want to pump up the volume on some 90s CCM at some point in the very near future.

I’m thankful that Christian music still exists. In some ways, it’s bigger than it’s ever been with a wider reach and more people buying albums and going to concerts. But compared to the rich variety of the 90s, there’s a bit of a sameness to a lot of what I hear currently. And I’m sure you could ask any Christian artist around today, and they’d probably say their inspiration came from something out of the 90s. And those from the 90s would probably point to artists in the 70s for inspiration (but that’s a discussion for another day).

I am thankful that I had all that great music to be a part of the formation and shaping of who I am today and what I believe. I’m thankful for the solid lyrics that will still come to mind to this day whenever I think of a particular artist. I’m thankful that so much of 90s CCM is part of the soundtrack to my life.

Safe Places

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“…maybe on the days we want out of our lives — it isn’t so much that we want to die from shame, but *hide* from shame. But let’s remember: shame gets unspeakable power only if it’s unspeakable. Shame dies when stories are told in safe places.
You know what? Your scars are proof that you’re a kind of bulletproof — because living through the hardest battles proves you can live through any battle. You can trace those scars and let it feed your courage and feel no shame for the wars you’ve come through, no shame for any of your broken.
And tonight we’re just going to take heart — take His heart
and pour a brave and willing love like His
over all the open wounds…
that we may even now
take hope” (Ann Voskamp, The Broken Way). #TheBrokenWay #StrengethingPrayers

Normally, I like to share my own thoughts, but this one practically begged me to share it. I’m positive that someone out there needs this tonight, someone who’s battled shame for a long time and needs to know that there’s hope and freedom just around the corner in one of those safe places.

You’ll never know the freedom over the power of shame until you can find your brave and share your stories– even the hardest and most shameful ones. As my pastor said, healing takes place when the worst moment of your life that you never thought you’d ever share with another living soul becomes the first line of your testimony of God’s deliverance.

My prayer is that you’ll find someone and somewhere safe to tell your shameful secrets so that they no longer hold you captive. Then perhaps your story will encourage someone else to tell his or her story. Someone will her their own story in your words and find their own healing.

 

Good Stories

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I’m drawn to a good story, whether it be in the form of a song or poem or novel or movie. I believe a good story is one in which I can identify myself and see part of my own story in the unfolding drama.

I’m reading through the Bible again, and I recognize myself all over the place. I can identify with the Israelites who are chosen as God’s people but often act as anything but God’s own possession.

I know what it’s like to want to go back to what’s comfortable and safe, even if that also happens to be bad for you and going backward rather than going forward.

I know what it’s like to be constantly tempted by idols and the surrounding culture bombarding you with images and messages that flatly contradict the message that God keeps trying to tell you.

I can fully relate to the many characters in the Bible whom God uses in spite of themselves, their weaknesses, their fears, their hang-ups. I had always been led to believe that people like Abraham and Isaac and Moses and Noah were the heroes in the stories.

That’s not true. God is always the hero of the biblical story. These are people who are only famous because God chose to use them. If God had never spoken to Moses from a burning bush, I doubt he’d be anything more than a very small footnote in the book of Exodus.

The Bible reminds me that what I need most is not to discover the inner warrior within me but rather to rely daily on the Warrior Savior who cherishes me and fights for me and never quits on me.

I’m beginning to understand the point of all the rules of the Old Testament. The point is that I’m supposed to look and act different as one of God’s people. I’m set apart. I’m not like everybody else and my story won’t play out like everybody else’s. That’s the point.

It’s not even really my story anymore. It’s God’s story that I get to be a part of.

I love that.

The end.

 

Writing Your Own Story

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“One of the arguments we often use for not writing is this: ‘I have nothing original to say. Whatever I might say, someone else has already said it, and better than I will ever be able to.’ This, however, is not a good argument for not writing. Each human person is unique and original, and nobody has lived what we have lived. Furthermore, what we have lived, we have lived not just for ourselves but for others as well. Writing can be a very creative and invigorating way to make our lives available to ourselves and to others.

We have to trust that our stories deserve to be told. We may discover that the better we tell our stories the better we will want to live them” (Henri Nouwen).

One of the reasons I write these blogs is because it’s part of me telling my story. It’s often very therapeutic and healing to get my thoughts out of my head and onto paper (or more accurately, onto computer screen then onto cyberspace via the interwebs).

No one can tell your story better than you. No one has lived your life quite like you have.

It occurred to me earlier as I was watching a Baz Luhrmann movie that the best stories are the ones in which you find your story and I find mine. Those are the stories in which the specifics may be quite different than mine, but the emotions are the same. I find in a good story that I can relate to the characters and the situations in which they find themselves.

Even if you just write what you did that day, it’s something. If you write about your fears and doubts, however odd and neurotic they may seem, someone else out there will inevitably be able to relate. Someone else will be able to say finally, “I’m so very glad I’m not the only one who thinks or feels this way. Maybe there’s hope for me.”

So write your story. My preferred method is blogging, but yours may be writing a novel or short story, taking a photograph, giving your testimony before a church group, or just being intentional about how you live your life.

Three words: tell your story.