Chasing After Me

Love leads the way… and it’s what we leave behind…

“Are you one of those ‘love’ people?”

“Don’t you go to that ‘love’ church?”

“I know you believe in love, but…”

Yes. Yes. And there are no “buts.”

It seems a month doesn’t go by without at least hearing these questions a few times.

To me, it’s a strange question. It seems to me that the deep-seeded desire of every person is to be loved. I believe that much of the hate and hurt in the world comes from a unwillingness to let ourselves be loved, and an unwillingness to love. And, maybe it’s because I can’t imagine life without love…I believe with all my heart that love, true unconditional love, brings life…I believe that life and love are inseparable.

Some might call that idealistic.

I like to call it human.

Jesus told His disciples that people would know they were His followers because of their love…not their knowledge…not their eloquent words…not their theology…not their morals…not their performance…not their judgment on others…but because of THEIR LOVE FOR ONE ANOTHER.

God IS love.

A couple weeks ago when I was volunteering with some Bloom friends at The Family Place in St. Paul, there was a moment. A moment when I realized that I’m on this journey filled with love and grace with many other people. A moment that was like a rally cry. A moment that was all about love and letting others feel love.

When Bloom set out to connect with organizations in the community, we never set out to tell people about Jesus. You heard that correctly. We’re a church hellbent on loving and serving when we’re in the community, not tossing out a soapbox to stand on and scream from. Why? Because we want to be known by our love…true, overflowing, unconditional love.

I believe it’s because LOVE is what matters. I believe it’s because LOVE speaks louder than words. I believe it’s because LOVE helps people love themselves, despite their mistakes. I believe it’s because LOVE connects with our spirits and our souls in a way nothing else can. I believe LOVE speaks its own language, one without words. I believe LOVE always wins.

After all, if God is Love, and I believe in God…then logic says my belief in love is undeniable.

I met a man today. He served three years in the U.S. military in Beirut. He has three large scars on his torso, several scars on his arms, a scar on his neck, and a tattoo to prove it. He’s lived through hell.

It shouldn’t matter that he slept under bridge last night. It shouldn’t matter that that his clothes were filthy. It shouldn’t matter that I heard his story through my open car window at an intersection where he was holding a sign asking for help.

He has a name…it’s Frank Wormwood.

I never would have heard his story had I not asked his name. And, I don’t know what possessed me to ask. Perhaps it was his genuine smile. Perhaps it was a manifestation of a work God is doing inside of me. Perhaps God just needed Frank to know in that moment that he is still respected and cared for. It probably was a combination of all three.

That two-minute exchange inspired me.

A name reminds you that you have a unique perspective on the world. A name reminds you that you have a unique identity. A name reminds you have a journey of your own.

A name reminds you that the homeless person on the side of the road is not an inconvenience, he’s a person filled with past experiences and dreams for the future.

You see, Frank IS a story. He is a story filled with hope. A story that’s worth something. A story that’s worth sharing.

When other people care enough to know your name, you’re not just another person on the street. You are human. You have purpose. Your life is a story.

“My name is Natalie. N-A-T-A-L-I-E. I’m four-years-old. What’s your name?”

“It’s Dawn. D-A-W-N.”

“Hi Dawn! I’m going to call you ‘friend.’”

And she did.

In the hour I spent with that sweet little girl, she called me “friend” probably 50 times…every single time she spoke with me.

I guess if you need a quick reminder of what really matters you should just ask a homeless four-year-old.

She didn’t care about task lists, finances, work, material items or even family drama. She cared about relationships.

Relationships built on a Jesus kind of love. Maybe Natalie didn’t know it was a Jesus kind of love. But I have no doubt.

You see…Jesus loved me through Natalie tonight. Natalie decided to be my friend. She didn’t know me, but it didn’t matter. She smiled at me. She hugged me. She held my hand. She wiped chocolate from my sleeve. She carried my dirty dishes to the kitchen. She introduced me to her family. She shared a million stories with me.

When you think about it, it’s totally backwards. You see, Natalie is one of eight kids. Her family has been homeless since October. She and her family live out of their car and at shelters. She was excited about getting a pair of shoes today that actually fit. Her entire family has to believe in the goodness of people and the goodness of God working through people to see hope for tomorrow.

I was supposed to be there serving her! Yet, she wanted to be a friend to me. Take care of me. Love me.

She probably never will know how much I needed that friendship tonight. She probably never will know that she made a permanent imprint on my heart. She probably never will know that Jesus loved me through her.

Her unconditional love reminded me of the importance of letting what Jesus pours into me, pour into the lives of others…a love that is unconditionally compassionate…a love that smiles at strangers…a love that genuinely cares…a love not impeded by worry or selfishness.

Thank you, Natalie. Thank you for becoming a piece of my heart. Thank you for reminding me what really matters.

And, God, thank you for Natalie.

* * *

Natalie and her family just found out that they’ve got housing. They’ll be moving into a newly remodeled apartment within two weeks. Thank God. You should have seen how excited Natalie’s mom was…seeing her excitement nearly brought me to tears.

The Family Place is a day shelter serving homeless families in St. Paul, Minn. The majority of their guests are children. Forty-seven percent of the homeless in St. Paul are children and teenagers. Often, their families have lost their housing because of medical emergencies, job losses and even landlord defaults and condemnations. They’ve unexpectedly found themselves in a new and difficult world, a world where hope and dignity are pushed aside to make room for daily survival. My church, Bloom, partners with this organization to serve their guests without agenda.