Leaving the streets tonight a guy in his early fifties stopped me as I was going to get in the car “Hey, you’re that guy. I know you.”

Better looking than me and dressed much nicer than I ever dress, I asked if we’d met. He said “yeah, in the line.” He was smiling so beautifully, couldn’t help but step forward, do what I do, shake his hand. Ask when he’d been on the corner.

“I was never here. You don’t remember me. It was years ago, in front of the old Union Rescue Mission. You guys saved my life more nights then you could ever know. I got in one of their programs. Got clean. Got sober. Got working. It was a long time ago.”

He was really smiling as he told the story that ended with “You’re still out here. That’s amazing.” And then “Thanks. It’s so good to see you. Really, more times then you could know.”

Moved. But soaked. I thanked him for the kind words and jumped into the car, trying my best to remember him. It would’ve been at least 20 years ago. Possibly even more.

Drove home through the storm. We all were just about dry when we got to the church and the heaven’s opened and we were soaked a second time as we unloaded the trailer and I forgot all about it, until I laid my head down in bed and his smiling face, obvious success, genuine gratitude all flooded over me when I closed my eyes.

It had been a chance encounter that lasted just a few minutes in the rain but to him it had been a lifetime. A life saved. “You guys saved my life more nights then you will ever know.”

His hair and neatly trimmed beard both sported a silver of success and happiness. I was drenched and feeling a few decades more than my age, ready to head home.

People question our work in the heart of the city. There are those who’ve criticized us, saying we’re enabling the chronically homeless. We don’t argue with them. We just keep on doing what we do. Vaclav Havel said some of the things we do just because they make sense. That’s all. There are cold and hungry people in the rain tonight, it just makes sense that we keep on going.

And there are men and women whose lives are forever changed – we celebrate their success – and thank God if we ever had the opportunity to play a small part in their taking the first steps towards healing and home.

So many Sunday nights. This morning my heart is so full I couldn’t sleep. Filled with images of friends slipping out into the cold, wet night and the memory of a man bursting with the opportunity to say thanks. It’s what happens on the streets, The Eternal Miracle sometimes just breaks forth and wakes us up again.

It happened tonight. Wish you’d been standing beside me to hear the story, to share his joy in the storm. Who knows, it might happen again next week. I’d love for you to share it. You’re Invited!

“Que milagro…” the words just slipped out… My only response to the story I’d heard after helping deliver dinner to the little church in Tijuana that’s given up their lives and facilities to help shelter the flood of desperate refugees, traveling thousands of dangerous miles, making their way to our borders.

“What a miracle!” I wish you would have been with us.

A number of the families had been moved one step closer to possible acceptance into the United States. The little church with the huge heart was asked to help 30 more people.

Mind you, their sanctuary and fellowship hall are littered with tired bodies and their simple courtyard is filled with children on bikes, circles of men playing dominoes and so many women with often exhausted, nearly vacant eyes. Waiting. Everyone waiting.

Agreeing to take 30 more (don’t know how the pastor’s keeping his job!) Mexican immigration showed up at their gate with a couple of families and a group of single men. Pastor began to refuse the men when a loud scream came from inside. A woman yelling… Running…

Separated from her husband while covering the dangerous journey to Tijuana – they both had continued on, independently – it was their only hope. Neither had anything to return to – now they didn’t even have each other.

Looking out from the courtyard, standing with a group of forlorn men about to be turned away, was her man, her husband. She hadn’t seen him since Central America. She didn’t know if he was dead, lost or in one of the many detention centers along the way.

Alive! Here! How could she not scream in joy and throw herself into his arms? A miracle!

What was the pastor to do but welcome all of the men who’d shared this moment. They’re all testimony to God’s Grace in the most difficult of days. They’d shared the misery and now the miracle. The story was still being told with joy when we arrived.

Jesus didn’t do many miracles in warm, comfortable surroundings. Not even in his own hometown. Refused completely when in halls of wealth and power – even when rulers begged Him. Promised to spare Him. He knew their hearts.

But among the desperate, the dispossessed, those shunned by society and kept outside the gates, His Power moved freely. His Presence was Real. He said “The Kingdom of God is within you. It’s all around you! It’s not far away. It’s here! It’s now!” And Love blossomed. Lives were forever changed. Multitudes were fed. Eyes were opened. People stood, walked, ran, screamed with joy! The Seeds of His church – still bearing fruit on a hillside in Tijuana – were planted.

Jesus said “Don’t be afraid little flock for it’s The Father’s good pleasure – it pleases God – to give you the very Kingdom of Heaven.”

We shared in The Wonder of it All Wednesday afternoon and it was amazing.

Has it been a while – or maybe ever – since you’ve been caught in the middle of a moment where the only words that could pass over your lips were “It’s a miracle!”

God hasn’t stopped working. It may have more to do with the company you keep. The life of comfort you’ve learned to depend on. Maybe it’s been too long since you were surrounded by those living in desperation… Seeking a solution. Open to The Intervention of the Almighty. Living with Hope as their only destination.

I began my Wednesday feeling desperate. How would every need be met? I closed my day with words I didn’t even remember I knew slipping through my lips “que milagro…” The wonder of life and so very many Wednesdays…

I’d love to share each of my Wednesdays – all of the miracles, great or small – with you. Yesterday I took a new friend from San Diego. A guy retired at the age of 52 who’s seen so much of the planet. The afternoon rocked his world. There was room in the old Sequoia, at Siempre, in the circle of refugees for you.

Lord willing, I’ll be going next Wednesday. No idea what the days ahead hold – but reminded anew Who holds each one of them, that it gives God pleasure to please us, that we’re invited to lives of miracles and wonder.

My prayer for you today is that God touches you with Wonder anew. That something sleeping within you would wake up. That without even knowing it you might find yourself saying words once foreign or forgotten as you recognize the miracle within you, around you. That you might say “Yes!” to whatever it is that’s waiting to change in your life. I’m praying for you.

Going to Siempre next Wednesday. Going to Thanksgiving at Central Community every day this month. Whisper a prayer for us… for me… Praying that no one is alone or goes without at the holidays. Praying we can help. More than ever I want you to know that we need you. We want to scream, throw our arms in the air, run and embrace you… I want to see the miracle in you. More importantly, I want YOU to see and know The Miracle in you. Don’t stand outside at the gate. You’re Invited!

Que milagro!

The new Underground Railroad or Trail of Tears? The journey the people I spent last evening with. They get it on Google. Beyond overwhelming.

The Dream of new life and hope in America draws them all. They imagine living the lives we’re living and leave everything on a one way journey out of desperation.

There’s a bigger image, vision and calling on your life then you’ve yet to imagine, much less experience. You don’t have to study The Underground Railroad or Trail of Tears – you can intervene in love – it’s as simple as showing human kindness to a people who have sacrificed everything, without hope of return, for the lives we lead today.

After working with Pastor Aldo, Adrian and Siempre’s kids to have another Wednesday evening meal of hot dogs and chips ready for these homeless sojourners – I asked Aldo if he’d like to skip next week?

We’ve tried to make it fun for the children who choose to participate. I bring everything with me. The last two weeks I’ve brought 50 extra hot dogs and more than enough chips so the kids can enjoy the fruits of their labor. Even still – it’s one more event added to the already busy life of Siempre Para Los Niños – now home to more than 50 children and staff.

Aldo said, “No. This is important. We like doing it. Next week the church at Siempre will pay for everything.” I asked if they had money to cover an expense like that? He emphatically said “Yes!” And soon we were discussing the cost and details of a hot dog dinner. Something they don’t teach in seminary.

The last two weeks Pastor Aldo has not only brought his entire family with him to help as we carry in a meal, he’s brought an additional member of the congregation. When we left Wednesday evening, for the second week in a row, they said they were staying behind… To help… To love… To serve…

Never imagined anything like this when Central Community built the little church Siempre has grown up around back in 2001.

Jesus told a story about a man on a journey, robbed, beaten, left in a ditch to die. How leaders of the church, busy about “the things of God” left him there, avoided him. It’s a popular story even still – because the one least expected to help – the Samaritan, despised by so many in their society, did everything he could to get the broken man on his feet again.

You possibly learned it in Sunday School – The Story of the Good Samaritan.

People are still on the long journey to freedom. Too many have been forced out of their homelands by poverty, hate and intolerance and trudge slowly forward – knowing there’s no way back. Many are broken, in the ditch, and without help will surely be lost.

You can make a profound difference. Your support of our work sends hope to the homeless, rescues children who are lost, prepares to bring Thanksgiving to the multitudes and is an open door in Southern California all week long. In a world that is increasingly hard for far too many, we can be hope. In a time that’s grown dark and so many are searching for a new home, we can be Light.

We’re not asked to be pillars of society – just willing to walk the road of the good Samaritan – and take time for those who’ve been beaten down, are broken and waiting in the ditch.

Can you go that low in love? I hope to go again next Wednesday. You can come and do more than witness this incredible diaspora – you can make a difference. You’re needed, now, more than ever.

The church at Siempre is picking up the tab. You can join us in love. Don’t turn your head and walk away. You’re Invited!

https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2016/sep/06/mexico-african-asian-migration-us-exit-permit

One of us would run down a house or two, duck behind a car or around the corner of a neighbors house. The other would push the talk button on the side, say something, and wait for the magic to happen – for the familiar sound of the voice of our sister or brother through the speaker. Think it was mostly Kathleen. Dan and Tim were older and not nearly as easy to impress or coax into modern, wireless communication.

We had walkie-talkies for Christmas. As in “Let’s go play walkie-talkie!” Dad and Mom got them for us from Sears. Think they were supposed to work up to a mile! They rarely communicated clearly beyond 100 yards. The instructions had guidelines on “line of sight” use. But what fun is talking through a walkie-talkie if you can just as easily raise your voice?

We’ve long since outgrown walkie-talkie range. We each now have phones of the future that can easily communicate audio or even video anywhere on the planet with incredible clarity.

I’ve never had a video conversation with my siblings. I know how. Just can’t imagine it. We love each other deeply and reach out to each other rarely. Don’t remember the last time all four of us were together.

That’s a sad admission.

Debi chides me about it. She’ll ask how one of my siblings is, I’ll reply that it’s been awhile since we’ve talked, “Do you think I should call?”

Debi always says the same thing: “Wish I could call my brother.” Gary, her only sibling, died far too young. He would have liked walkie-talkies. Bet he had some. We loved each other, rarely called to talk, even in the years he was dying. Wish I could call her brother too. Miss him.

My devotion this morning closed with this simple statement about our relationship with God: “We want works, then character. He insists on reversing the order.”

Our walkie-talkies never lived up to our hopes. The fact that Dad and Mom stretched to give us a totally unnecessary gift will always be remembered. My siblings and I may someday regret the many times we could have just picked up the phone to shoot the breeze – maybe even stretched to get together occasionally on a video conference call (or is it called something else now?) But the knowledge of knowing we can call, they will respond in love, that our family is one even when we’re scattered, gives us strength.

Dad and Mom gave us that. They built a home, a family and taught us how to love each other even when communication doesn’t seem to get any further than those closest to us.

If I could, I’d call them to say thanks, but like Debi, “Sure wish I could call Dad and Mom.”

If our actions are the best indicators of our character maybe it’s time for me to pick up the phone and remind the people I care about that I’m still here, I still love them and enjoy hearing the magic of their voice.
Maybe there’s someone you’ve been meaning to call as well. Today’s National Use Your Phone Like a Walkie-talkie Day. Or maybe it could be… Call someone just to hear their voice again and to tell them they’re always on your mind.

It may be just what they need.

I saw this picture of me on fb this morning, snapped by friend Stanley, while working with those seeking asylum in the United States. First glance, simply thought “I’ve done that a lot of places…” Taken a few minutes in the middle of someone’s heartbreak to simply listen. Then I remembered this specific moment, not yet 48 hours ago, but the hours are filled with so many minutes.

The man in the red cap is from Haiti. He’s been traveling for months to get to the U.S. Border in hopes of a new and better life. He has no idea the hurdles that stand before him. I can only imagine the road that led him out of his earthquake ravaged, impoverished homeland, to the simple fellowship hall in this humble Tijuana church.

I asked if he had heard from any family or friends since the hurricane killed so many last week. Suddenly alert and wanting exact translation he sought out the help of the man standing next to me, from Senegal, who’s English was much better.

What should have been obvious was made clear, he had no idea of the new catastrophe to hit Haiti. No way to find out if everyone was OK. Stunned when I shared with him the magnitude of the storm. No one to call and check on.

Imagine for a moment being that “stranger in a strange land.” How many fb friends do you have? How warm and comfortable is your life this morning? Do the donated blankets, piled against the walls, covering skinny bodies; hungry, hoping, look as if you merely emptied just one of your closets and scattered belongings on the floor?

These people won’t try and sneak into the United States. Each of them fully understands that just one mark on their application for asylum will keep them out of their dream forever.

They wait at our border. A community of hope each running from their own personal hurricane. Please keep them in your prayers. Keep the generous people of Mexico and their policy makers in your prayers as well.

They can’t sleep on floors forever.

I’m guessing that within the decade there’ll be a colonia in Tijuana called Zona Africa. You’ll take your family to sample the exotic experience when they visit from out of town. Maybe have the kids picture taken on the back of a burro, painted like a zebra, next to a real, live African.

Sound impossible? We did it with the Mexicans in their own country. I’m wearing a big sombrero with the name Pedro painted on it in mine. Tijuana, 1984. Nothing racist about that… right?

This won’t be a secret for much longer.

There needs to be a solution – until then, we can love and serve. Yesterday, in my office, helped a man rebuild hope with his broken family. This morning, prayed for a mom who’s missing her son. These people on the road are family members. Sons and daughters in search of new life running from darkness most of us have never known. We can’t fix their problems. We can be loving, compassionate and do what we can do. We can listen.

Until a solution arises or God points me in another way, I suspect they’re part of my life as well, for which I am thankful. Going again next Wednesday afternoon. No idea what to expect. Could use your prayers, help and company. Would rather not go alone.

Jesus said “Whatever you do for the least of these, you’ve done for me.” Serving, it’s a growth industry. It’s what we were created for. You’re Invited!

Obvious question when meeting someone from The Democratic Republic of the Congo, second largest country in all of Africa, sleeping homeless on the streets of Tijuana, is why?

Average annual income in the Congo, a nation of over 77 million people, is just $231. That’s about .63 cents a day. How long does it take you to spend $231? How much is your house, car, rent payment per month?

With Mother Teresa becoming Saint Teresa tomorrow, the correspondence she had with my mom becomes just a bit more precious. Mom gave me this letter, way back in 1990, when she had been writing her about our new work with the poor on skidrow, Jackets for Jesus. I keep it in my office as a reminder of the wonderful women who’ve lifted our work and me personally up in prayer.

If someone needs miracles in order to be canonized as a saint, Jackets for Jesus has experienced enough across the years to cover Mother Teresa a dozen times over.

Always humbled to think that so many lift us up in prayer. Tomorrow I’ll celebrate a bit as one of Jackets for Jesus very own prayer warriors takes so special a place in the life of the church. She was an amazing example of love to all humanity and if anyone ever deserves so high an honor, it would be her.

Thanks for your loving and prayerful encouragement and support as we took our first steps into the darkness. God speed as your witness continues to lead us into The Light. Give mom a hug for me.

If I had the dough think I’d catch a jet to Rome tonight so I could join the throngs at the Vatican’s celebration tomorrow. Maybe Pastor Ken will buy me a Saint Teresa medal when he’s there!