To start at the beginning,

Last summer I was hired to interview the director of the DCFS in Arkansas, which oversees foster-care. I learned a lot about the problems foster youth face through that experience and concluded, “I would love to be a part of the solution, but since I’m a young, single man, there’s no way for me to really be of any help.” (If you would like a 101 on some of the experiences foster youth face, the video is only 2 minutes. http://vimeo.com/fellowshipunleashed/fostercare )

Six months later, a friend asked me if I’d be interested in being a R.A./mentor for foster youth… and so I got hooked up with Immerse Arkansas. The whole deal sounded like a great opportunity for me to serve, given my flexible lifestyle… and so as I was weighing that decision, the need just proved too great to not do something.

Of foster youth who age out of the system…
— Less than 2% graduate from college.
— Very likely to experience homelessness
— Very likely to struggle with drug addictions
— Very likely to be imprisoned.
— Likely to have unwanted pregnancies.
— Very likely to suffer economic hardship

You may think to yourself, “Foster teens… Now that sounds like a lot of work!” And to be honest, at times it was. Suicide threats, unhealthy interpersonal behavior, depression, and anger-control were just a few of the trials we had to tread. But through those bumps, I did get to see an incredible amount of growth in my guys, as I was changed by my friendship with them. Let me share with you one of my favorite examples.

Boys Need Men
In order to make it to his school in time, Michael had to wake up at 5:30a.m. every day. Sometimes, it can be hard enough getting your own 18 year old kid to wake up at 7. Imagine your son had to get up at 5:30, but you’ve been too busy in and out of drug rehab programs to model a responsible life, and that 18 year old son you haven’t seen in months lives by himself, in his own apartment… Do you really think he’ll make it to class every day, or is it more likely that he’ll drop out and get a job working the line at Luby’s?

Michael came to us with his crisis. “If I miss three more days, I won’t graduate.” Enter mentor Kyle.

Kyle woke up at 5:00am every single day to help Michael meet the day. Sometimes, it would just be a text message. Othertimes, they’d hang out for breakfast or walk to the bus-stop together. Do you see the difference? Michael had a grown man that cared about him, and taught him, in this one way, how to be a man. Michael graduated high school, and he’ll enroll at UALR for the spring semester.

That was one of my favorite stories, but my favorite is the one that I got to personally be involved in.

Stories over Smokes
During my stay, Jeff and I hung out quite a bit. We played video games, watched movies, all that. And usually in the intermission, he’d take a smoke break. He was a Century 25′s man (“the most bang for your buck”), so I’d sit with him and we’d have a talk. During those smoke breaks, Jeff really started to open up. He shared things that he had never told anyone, and really came to grips with a lot of things that he was struggling with. Often, we’d talk about college and what he can expect – what I loved and what I regret. Of course I can’t go in to details, but all in all, we just became close friends, and through that, my heart opened up and I learned more about loving my neighbor, and he learned more about how he should live his life.

That is discipleship.
You hear about discipleship at church all the time. I have not experienced many organizations that are as committed to “life on life” discipleship than Immerse Arkansas.

Paul tells the Thessalonians, “We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us.” This is what Immerse does, and I can personally testify to the love they have for their foster youth, and how incredibly unselfish the Immerse leaders are with how they share their lives.

The Bottom Line
So here’s the deal. A donor has agreed to match new monthly commitments that are made between now and October 1st, up to $3,000/mo. So every dollar you give, another dollar will be given.

Right now, Immerse has $1,630 in monthly commitments. In their usual way, Immerse has decided that they want as many people as possible to be involved in the cause of the foster youth, and so they have set their recommended donation at just $12/mo. If you want to give more, you can – but it’s at a level where anyone can be involved who would like to be.

If you would like to donate immediately, go here: http://www.immersearkansas.org/donate/

If you would like to contact them to learn more…

Immerse Arkansas
6420 Colonel Glenn Rd., Ste. 1
Little Rock, AR 72204

Office: 501-613-7779
Email: eric@immersearkansas.org

Again, they are a wonderful organization made up of wonderful people committed to following Jesus and dsicipling foster youth. So, please consider it. Pray about it, think about it, watch The Blind Side, etc…

Thanks for the time it took to read this.

We’re broken people
We’re shattered glass
A thousand pieces of sinful mass

We’re broken hearts
Clinging to threads
Of this single hope still pounding in our heads

Lord we confess
That we need you
So how long God till your word comes through?

Yes I confess
My strength is gone
Because the sword you hold has pierced my lungs

Now my breath has failed
My life’s run dry
This aching heart has lost its cry

We’re broken people
We’re shattered glass
A thousand pieces of sinful mass

We’re broken hearts
Clinging to the threads
Of this single hope still pounding in our heads.

I think it’s absolutely true. When people fall in love, they can’t explain it right away. They come up with reasons why they fell in love later, but in the moment, “We just knew.” …My problem is, “I just know” way too often. I’m tempted to feel like the research in this book validates my decision-making process–I live and die on instinct–but in reality, that predisposition leads to impatience. I have an over-active decide-o-matic.

One friend of mine said that she thought I was hyper-intuitive. She was one of those friends who had an uncomfortably accurate picture of me, so I took that “compliment” to mean that my intuition was like my mutant power, always nimble, always right. Of course, that’s not how it works. Rather, she meant that I rely on intuition well beyond what most would consider “good reason.” …You would think that a few break-ups, unnecessary expenses, and near death experiences would teach me a little self-restraint, yet I remain the fool who rushes in.

All that to say, I’m thankful that wisdom is built on the knowledge of one’s weaknesses!

Ecclesiastes teaches that we must look at death to learn how to live.

There is nothing proud about a corpse. At times, I found it pitiful the way the Egyptian kings were buried in great tombs with their treasures, hidden within tremendous, golden-peaked pyramids. I found it pitiful, because these are all the trappings of a rotting corpse. They are vain attempts to dodge death’s sting and hold on to kingdoms that have already slipped through cold fingers.

One king did not have his body embalmed, nor did he request a tomb of treasures. He submitted himself to death’s greatest assault. And then, rising from the grave, he conquered death. Of all the kings of the earth, only Jesus Christ could say, “Oh death, where is your sting?”

This world is full of vanity. Death comes, and that is the guarantee. Count on being forgotten. Do not live with great ambition for your name on this earth; it will not last. Even the earth is dying.

With that in mind, do I love God, or do I love money? Because too often do I dream of the next acquisition, and when I die, my vain treasures will burn.

–

Well I live in Nashvegas and I sing and I play,

And everybody thinks that I write my own.

There’s a fellow named Guido who lives in Inceno,

Who wrote song every song that I know.

Well he sends MP3′s for a nominal fee,

And I sing them and play them and tell them that it’s me.

I’m in over my, over my, over my head,

If they knew I was nothing but gold-painted lead,

They’d stone me, dethrone me, and leave me for dead,

I’m in over my, over my head.

I’m in over my, over my head.

In 1960, a poll was conducted among high school students, asking them if they thought they were “special.” Twelve-percent said yes. In 1980, over eighty-percent said yes. The United States of America is now home to the most overconfident people in the world.

Child development research indicates that if you praise a child for “being such a hard-worker” when they solve a problem, it promotes an industrious spirit that sees problems as obstacles to be overcome, whereas if you praise a child for “being such a smart kid,” they come to believe success is an inane trait, and they avoid difficult problems out of a fear of being seen as a stupid person. Time and time again, my teachers always told me how smart I was. And this is exactly how I took it – “I’m the chosen one. I will always succeed, because hey, it’s me…”

As school became more difficult, I became more adept at making grades without exertion. In my psyche, success was measured in a perverse, inverted effort/reward ratio. The most successful ratio favored the highest reward divided by the least amount of effort. Geniuses shouldn’t have to try, and if I had to really put my back into it, then what would that say about my intelligence?

Thankfully, college taught me how to work hard. You can’t B.S. your way through a film production. I know because I failed. And yet, when I do succeed, I am still tempted to interpret that success through a fatalistic lens. “Hey, it’s me… it’s what I do.” When I take this entitled attitude, I deceive myself, handicap myself, rob my Lord of his glory, and withdraw from his abiding love.

Here is the wake-up call: I am not special. I am not the chosen one. I am not destined for a greatness that others will not share. Our greatness will be shared, as God’s risen children.

After college, my friends and I all spread out to different corners of the world, and while our day-to-day experiences were quite different, we all felt the same sense of isolation, exile, and disillusionment. We realized that we had been raised in a bio-dome of community of sorts, through school and college, and that fantasy-land is forever past. When we spread out, each of us were left with ourselves, and that was it.

When left with myself, I found that, in the words of St. Theophan the Recluse, I was “like a shaving of wood which is curled around its central emptiness.” I was left alone, and in that solitude, I felt empty. I had this great need for another person – just one person – to link arms with me and share my life and work with. The ironic aspect was that I had always thought of myself as independent. But I wasn’t. Most of my life had been centered around fulfilling the expectations of others, and exile was necessary for me to see that emptiness and learn who I truly was, separate from what I did and what others said of me. There were no more tests to pass, no more friends to help, no more sermons to preach, no more praise to receive.

I experienced a lot of loneliness in that first year, but if I could turn back time and trade the solitude I experienced after college for a full and constant swirl of friends and activity… I wouldn’t. We were made for community, but we need solitude in our life to confront our own emptiness. It is in our emptiness, our desperation, that we are filled with the Spirit. Therefore, let us accept solitude so that when we do share our lives with others, it is a life worth sharing. “Life is meant to be shared, but if God has you in a time of solitude, accept it as an opportunity to gaze inward and face the emptiness. When you return to your community, it will be more satisfying than ever before.” I wish that is what I had told my friend.

Sam, Philip, Johnson, Nathan. All of them looked to be in their twenties. And then a much older man with a long beard hobbles in and takes a seat, and I’m introduced to Muzei. It was great honor to meet this man, I spend quite a lot of time talking to him, as do the other graduates of Cornerstone. Afterwards, we hop in the car and drive to Kigali Institute of Science and Technology where the headmaster is going to speak on leadership to a student organization. I am confused, because the old man is not in the car. I now realize that I have don’t actually know who the headmaster is…

When the host of the event calls up the headmaster, Johnson stood up and took the microphone. He looked to be my age, although he is 34. With a compassionate smile, he begins talking.

“Leaders do not need to make sure people know they’re leaders. They just lead. They just serve.”

I had no idea the man in the corner of the living room at dinner was the headmaster. I had no idea that he had changed the lives of everyone there. I had no idea that he started one of the most successful Christian boarding schools in East Africa by the age of 27. It is no wonder that he is a father figure to his students… He does not lord his authority over them. He walks alongside them, serves them, leads them, but does not try to control them.

No matter what our profession may be, we can take a lesson from this man. Instead of trying to “be a leader,” just lead. Just serve.

Allen is the “Auntie” at Lighthouse Children’s Home, a home for orphans set up by my dear friend and traveling partner, Anitha Kobusingye. Their home is on the eastern edge of Rwanda, in one of the least populated regions in the country, only 20 miles from the border of Tanzania. In other words, it is three hours’ drive from friends, family, and the only major city. This town defines “village life” in rural Rwanda, and Allen’s life defines that of a village mother. Only, she has 13 kids… and she is only 19.

Every day Allen wakes up at 4 a.m. sharp to make breakfast porridge for the kids, who are mostly 6 to 7, but range from 2 to 13. After breakfast, she wakes them up at 5 a.m., serves them, gets them ready for the day and takes them to school. After taking them to school, she returns home and prepares lunch. This takes a few hours, because their kitchen is simply an enclosed campfire. About the time lunch is finished, she picks up the kids from school, feeds them lunch and takes them back. At this point, she has just a few hours to get more firewood, make sure there’s enough water, clean the house, wash any extra clothes or dirty bedsheets by hand, and then she has to pick the kids back up from school. They have just a small amount of time for tutoring or a sort of Bible fellowship, and then, it is time to prepare supper. Supper is served about 8-9pm. Afterwards, Allen cleans the pots and dishes by hand, gathers the dirty clothes, washes them by hand and hangs them to dry overnight so they will have clean clothes in the morning. On a good day, she is free by 10 or 11pm to read for a bit before going to bed and waking up the next day at 4 a.m.

Allen is only 19 years old, and she has put off college to take care of these 13 children. Her only “connection” to her former life is a cell phone. When you read this, you might think to yourself, “Oh, poor soul!” But it’s a foolish mistake to make. Christ tells us that if we give, we shall receive, and she has received more joy and faith than we can know.

When I asked Allen what should we pray for, not once did she mention herself in any way. She did not need joy, love, or perseverance. She had those qualities in spades. Her answer? “Food, water, clothing, housing…”
(This is something anyone can help with. Email me if you’re interested).

Personally, I see the capacity for love she has and I feel divided. I’m attracted to such a character, desiring to exhibit it in my own life, but then I remember my plans for my life, my desires and comfort, and I shrink back.

Do we really believe that he who gives much, receives much?

I have made greetings with a thousand of Anitha’s friends (all of whom have been extremely hospitable), photographed a cooperative of jewelry makers, preached a sermon at a Christian high school, and met a former minister of Uganda, who I discussed all things history with, focusing on the life and reign of Ivan the Terrible, of course.

On Saturday, I participated in the monthly community work by slashing bushes while a dozen Rwandese stared at me, the mzungu. This morning, I took some photos of a stunning sunrise, and this afternoon I visited a burial service for a mass grave of 500 people that was just discovered. Tomorrow, I am going to Musanze to work with a friend. After that, I have no idea.

The idea was to come to Rwanda, and God would show me why. I’m here, and at times, I still have to wonder… but that’s okay, it’s all one-step-at-a-time stuff. In the end, the Lord’s provision is the right provision, and he knows what that looks like better than I do. Right now, I am here, and I am God’s.

To Victory.