So We Will Grow

Two Sundays ago, “Carl” and the other two Hope House residents came back to church.

 

One of the residents, who I’ll call “Adam,” had recently moved up in the program to “Level 2,” meaning he gets a little bit of furlough time (time to spend outside the facility at a place other than work). Now, he had been able to go to church before he was able to prove that he had grown up in church (a free furlough), but now at “Level 2,” he had to use his furlough time for church, rather than for McDonald’s or going home.

 

Adam (who had also been the resident who bought the Adoleo album) decided to come to church.

 

After the message, Adam approached Carl and told him that he thought he wanted to dedicate his life to Christ. Back at the Hope House, in the little dining room with the Resident Officers and all the other residents observing, Carl led Adam to Christ.

 

Of course, the Christian walk is never easy. Adam happened to get a minor report this last week, and was complaining about it to Carl (he really was guilty, but got a pretty harsh sentence). Carl (like a champion disciple-maker) brought him to James chapter 1, and encouraged him to respond differently this time than he had in the past.

 

This last Sunday there were 5 Hope House residents that came to Veritas (about 10% of the Hope House population).

 

Also, there were about 100 students at the Fall Salt Company retreat, almost all of whom were NOT from Ames.

 

It’s an encouraging time to be a member of Veritas Church!

Life Update – God Provides

Last Thursday, I got a job within the Department of Corrections. Starting this week, I will be a Resident Officer at the place where I currently hold my AmeriCorps assignment. There are a lot of responsibilities within the position, but the easiest explanation I can think of to describe them is this:

I am to a half-way house what an R.A. (or C.A.) is to the college dormitories, except the residents have a lot less privacy rights, and are much more likely to be lying to me on a regular basis (rather than just on the weekends).

Never thought I would end up here! Definitely didn’t go to Iowa State with the intention of becoming something like a prison guard. In reality, though, there really couldn’t be a more perfect position for me here in Iowa City, for the following reasons.

1. It’s a part-time job with a full-time salary, meaning I can still have plenty of time to contribute to Veritas Church and the college ministry. Starting this fall, I will be on staff part-time with the church, and this position allows me to give plenty of time towards the ministry without having to become a financial burden on anyone.
2. It’s an entry-level position with a lot of opportunities for advancement. While I’m only starting out working 16 hours a week, the position will eventually work up to full-time within a year if I want it. Additionally, after a few years of working in the position, I will be able to apply for several other more appealing jobs within the department of corrections. The department doesn’t tend to hire anyone “outside the business” for the higher-up jobs, meaning I could see myself working here for the rest of my life, should God intend it. Also, I’ll be a part of one of those “government unions” that have been in the news so much lately, so don’t be surprised if you ever see me on the state capitol steps holding up signs for the Democratic Party.
3. It’s a position I would proudly put on a graduate school resume. Yes, I’m still thinking law school, or possibly some sort of rehabilitative counseling as a career, and this position definitely falls into the category of “practical experience in the real world.” Additionally, I’ll be starting off working some of the weekend-night shifts, so it will be acceptable to work on some LSAT materials on the job while mostly everyone is sleeping.
4. I am able to continue working with the same residents I’m working with now. Rather than having to go through a rather disjointed work schedule of criminals in the morning, disabled kids in the afternoons, and college kids in the evenings; I’ll be a little more focused in my work. Yes, the position will be much more challenging than what I’m doing now, but I’m looking forward to not spending most days being completely bored out of my mind.

—-transition—-

Iowa City Anthem is ready to record ten songs that we will release on an album early this fall. I’ve spent a lot of time and energy on the album over the last few months, and my perspective on it has definitely changed. I no longer feel as though it is a giant weight and responsibility on my back, but rather something that God is working through that I get to be a part of. Also, I’ve gained some perspective on it, and the whole project doesn’t seem as “important” as I initially thought.

It’s just music, really, and the ONLY thing that matters in a church service is whether people come to see Christ. If I lose the focus in the people and God’s command to love them, I’m creating worship music to be some sort of idol rather than the free expression that it’s meant to be.

A good example of this missed perspective came before Anthem. I was worried out of my mind that I was leading a team that was going to mess everything up. Practice the night before just didn’t seem to “click,” and I was feeling pretty down about it. Fortunately, I’m roommates with Justan Spaid, and he told me that there was no possible way to mess up something if I was doing it with the right heart. “Sure, it may not be as good as Ames, but who cares!” he said. “People are going to see your passion and your heart for worship, and that’s the only thing that matters.”

All that said, I really feel like the album is coming together quite nicely. So nicely, in fact, that it’s hard to contain my enthusiasm and hopes that this could be an album that really could start something big and inspire others to create worship music. I actually had a dream the other night that I was at a night of worship filled with people where there was only a piano in the middle of a room. People kept coming up to the piano and playing a song that they had written. None of the songs were either bad or phenomenal, but everyone else was worshipping and praying along with them. I kept trying to get to the piano and play one of my own songs but I never got the chance, although I had a strange feeling that I had been a part of the reason that everyone else was there.

I wrote a total of ten songs for the album, but due to the talent of the other writers, I’m more than happy to limit my own contribution to a mere four songs. Sure, I’ve helped out on some of the other songs, but I feel as though the band is much more of a unified team than any other band I’ve ever been a part of, and it’s much more fun (and productive) to make music with other people than just by yourself. The album that I thought was going to be slow, mournful, and musically “out-there” is going to be much more hopeful, upbeat, and accessible to listeners than it could have ever been had I done the whole project by myself. Yes, it will still be different than your average Christian band, but hopefully in a way that brings people in rather than turns them away.

All this is to say that God is changing my definition of “success,” and giving me a more true perspective on everything. It’s hard to believe that less than a year ago I briefly doubted that God would provide for me here in Iowa City.

Now it’s hard to imagine how he could have provided any better.

Hope House News

I haven’t talked about my job for a while, so here’s a little update.

1. “Tony” is on escape.

Definitely thought he was on a better track this time. He offered to “help” me get my computer back, because he had a “cousin” who “knew a guy who knew a guy” who jacks computers in the Pheasant Ridge neighborhood. Unfortunately, his detective work yielded no returns, and after being accused of stealing $26 from work, decided it was best to run. Right now, he is most likely in Cedar Rapids with a woman other than the mother of his two girls that he couldn’t stop talking about for the last few weeks. It’s sad, but disappointment goes with the job, and fortunately it’s not all disappointing.

2. Paris came to Anthem.

I started tutoring Paris for his GED just a couple weeks ago. A former self-described “trouble-maker,” Paris is no longer on strict probation and is starting to get his life together. He has held a steady job for over a year, and is working on being a better father to his children. Paris appreciated my patience with him during tutoring, and when I told him about Anthem, he seemed very interested and promised he would be there. I couldn’t believe my eyes when he actually was! A middle-aged, African-American man with a rough history, I was sure that Paris would feel a little uncomfortable surrounded by affluent white college kids. He told me afterwards, however, that he couldn’t get over how nice and positive everyone was, and was excited about checking out Veritas Church.

Paris wasn’t able to make it to tutoring this week, as a friend from the probation class (a really cool and effective program called “Drug Court”) committed suicide over the weekend. I called Paris to see how he was doing, and for twenty minutes he completely opened up his life to me. He told me about how he used to have twin boys, but one of them died at the age of two. Two years later, the surviving boy pointed to a spot in the street and said, “tomorrow I’m going to go see my brother.” The next day, he was hit by a car on that spot and died. Pray for Paris, and that the Veritas Community would welcome him in with open arms.

3. “Mohammad” went to jail.

On Wednesday I met a Hope House resident named “Mohammad.” Through some complication with the sentencing process, the Hope House staff told me before we left for the day that at 6pm Wednesday evening the police would come get Mohammad and take him to the Johnson County jail for the final 30 days of his sentencing. I’ve never heard of any resident’s sentencing being split up like that, so I was rather confused, and I suspected that I should watch him closely throughout the day. If anyone would every be likely to run, I figured it would be a resident on the day that he’s going to go to jail. When Mohammad told me he was from Sudan and was going to school to be a flight mechanic, my terror alert went up to red.

There was nothing to worry about, though. Mohammad was a considerably nice guy with an amazing story about migrating to the United States about ten years ago. He has never had a criminal record, and met his wife in Cairo, Egypt before moving over with her. He sent her off to Sudan to visit family without telling her that he’s in the Hope House. He’s lived in three states, and held stable work in all of them. He was going through Kirkwood’s mechanical tech program while driving a cab when the “incident” happened. I haven’t had a chance to “fact-check” his story against the book, but after nearly 8 months on the job, I have gotten a pretty decent sense for when guy’s are lying. Mohammad is either the most creative liar I’ve ever met, or he’s telling the truth.

The incident happened sometime this last winter. He picked up a college girl from downtown at around 1am. She was not sober, and had experienced a bad break-up or something. She was crying. He tried to talk to her and find out where she wanted to go. He took her home. The next day the police call him, telling him that they need him to stop by the police station before 4pm. Mohammad stopped by, and was indicted for charges of exposing himself in public. It was his word versus hers, and he lost. He’s now a registered sex offender. He’s rather bewildered at it all, and wanted to hire a lawyer to make an appeal, but didn’t want to spend the $2500 to spend on attorney fees for a case that the attorney didn’t seem too confident with.

He’s kept a good attitude about it all, though, and didn’t even complain while telling the story (a very stark contrast to every other resident’s story). He said that there must be a reason for it. I compared him to Joseph, hoping to strike up a spiritual conversation. He liked the comparison, and explained that he is a Muslim, but believes in all of the Old Testament prophets. Like most Muslims, he believed in Jesus, but believed he was only a prophet, not God. I started talking about my beliefs, and he was very open to them. Mohammad’s own beliefs seemed to be relatively moderate, with a Rob Bell-esque, “we’re all going to Heaven in the end,” sort of approach. He directly asked me if I thought Muslims were going to Hell, and in as soft a way as I could put it, I told him that anyone who doesn’t accept Jesus as Lord would not enter the kingdom of Heaven.

I think he respected me for it. He asked me to pray for him, and I did, right there on the spot. I asked him if I could come visit him in jail, and his eyes lit up and he said he would be honored. Pray for Mohammad, that he would be granted justice, and that he would accept truth, rather than just being tolerant of it.

Seven Years (part 4)

Even though the message is written as the title of this blog, I sometimes forget and think that ministry depends on me.

In some sense, I do have a responsibility to live out and share the message of the Gospel, living a life “worthy of the calling [I] have received.” For most of my life, I haven’t lived quite up to that calling. Still, even now, I still fall short in many ways, thinking that I don’t have to do anything and God will take care of everything.

There are a lot of guys at the Hope House with this kind of attitude. They believe in God’s salvation, and are quite grateful for it and will be quick to tell you how much they depend on Christ just to get through every day. The depend so much so, in fact, that they feel entitled to skip recovery meetings, show up late to work, maintain poor hygiene, show disrespect to the staff, and neglect their families. Thank goodness for grace, they say!

Lately, however, I’ve been erring on the other extreme. A couple weeks ago I spent literally every hour of the week doing either at work, song-writing, or ministry related tasks. Ok, I took a break to watch Conan with Spaid on Tuesday night, but other than that I was working at something in every spare moment. Like Mark said in his most recent update, “it’s not a sign of weakness to rest.” It’s one of the ten commandments, that only a sense of pride causes us to break.

At the end of that week, I had a small breakdown. I began to raise serious questions of my faith, the ministry of Veritas, my own effectiveness at leadership, and my own ability to persevere through the tasks given me. Lance and Spaid watched me, as I remember watching a close friend a while ago, completely lose part of my sanity. I was doing the dishes at the time (a chore I find somewhat therapeutic and relaxing), and Lance and Spaid just patiently heard me out and whispered back truths into my rage of lies.

The truth is that my faith does not depend on my works, the ministry of Veritas does not depend on me,  my effectiveness as a leader is dependent upon how much I give over to God, and my perseverance is dependent upon me getting some rest once a week.

It’s funny how it can be so much easier to share this truth with someone than to take it for yourself.

So, I took a Saturday to stand completely still. Since I couldn’t pick up a guitar without feeling the stress and pressure to write music, I just slept in, listened to music, watched basketball, and did a puzzle with a friend. That evening, I hung out with friends, listened to the new Radiohead album (which I am somewhat disappointed in), and drank my first ever white russian. It was surprisingly hard to change my mindset and allow myself to enjoy the rest without thinking of all the things I could be doing, but in the end I was so glad I did.

The next week was one of the most difficult and challenging of my life. I don’t know if I could have survived without the sabbath rest, but since I had forced myself to take it, God was able to effectively work through me. Sure, I messed up at a few points, but through it I was able to see God’s hand of grace moving in ways that I could never move on my own.

I was encouraged by these two songs:

I’m beginning to see how no matter how much I try, and no matter how much I want things to happen, it’s ultimately God, and God alone, who is going to move the Anthem @ Veritas ministry.

(postnote: I’m trying to listen to as much Christian/Inspirational/Worship music as I can throughout the writing process. If you have some that you would like to share, please leave a comment and I’ll be sure to check it out. Right now, I’m listening to “Singalong” by Phil Wickham, “Beautiful Things” by Gungor, “The Medicine” by John Mark McMillan, “My Worship in Motion” by Daniel Bashta, and “Take the World but Give Me Jesus” by Ascend the Hill.)

118

I think I’m finally reaching the point where I don’t feel like a missionary or church-planter anymore. Iowa City is home. Ames is just a place where some of my friends live. Spaid and I are coming to Ames to lead worship this Thursday, and I’m sure it’s going to be a slightly strange experience.

We’re bringing our Iowa City connection group to make sure we stay somewhat grounded. They’re excited to see exactly what it was that we came from and how big the vision for the Iowa City ministry actually is. I’m excited for them too.

A while ago, I was looking through an Iowa City phonebook. I stumbled upon the churches section, and counted the number of churches in the area.

There were 117.

For a city of only 63,000 people, it’s hard to make the case that this city is “unreached.”

Today I was talking to “Tony,” and the subject of churches came up. Tony told me that he thinks church is “boring.” He grew up in a black Pentecostal-style church in Chicago, where dancing in the aisles was an everyday occurrence. I told him I understood how he would find just about any other style church service boring compared to that.

“Exactly,” he said, “Or it’s all excitement, and the people are fake!”

About two years ago, Tony said he went to three churches to find a pastor to meet with so that he could, “get some stuff off his chest.” He didn’t tell me which churches, and I didn’t ask, but he said all three churches had pastors who didn’t care about him enough to even meet with him or pray for him for five minutes.

So he left, and he hasn’t come back.

I told Tony that Veritas services really aren’t that exciting, but I at least know the people are genuine. I explained it as sort of a great “family reunion” every Sunday that you always came away feeling built up and encouraged after.

My boss also came to Veritas this last weekend, and told me that he loved the service and wants to come back. He also told me that Tony has promised him that he would go with him to church at least once while in the Hope House.

So, sometime in the next few weeks, Tony will be coming to Veritas.

And that makes me certain that the 118th church in Iowa City is doing something right.

Awesome Day (part 1)

On Monday, my boss’ wife was diagnosed with a faulty heart valve. She will need surgery in the next few weeks.

When I saw Mike on Tuesday, I asked if there was anything I could do for him and his wife during this time. He told me that he had been listening to the Anthem album I gave him for Christmas in the car on the way to and from the hospital, with the song I wrote on repeat. He told me what an encouragement the song had been to him, and he asked me if I would be willing to come perform it for his wife at their home. Coming off one of the most meaningful compliments I’d ever received, it was the least I could do.

I drove out to his house this afternoon, and talked and played music for Mike, his wife, and her parents for about an hour. As awesome as our worship set was at Salt Company later that night, it didn’t come close to the experience in Mike’s living room. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so blessed to be a musician.

On the way home on the interstate, I got pulled over. The cop asked me all the usual questions and checked out my driver’s license and information. On his way back to my car, he asked me one last routine question:

“Where are you coming from?”

“Well, this is going to sound too good to be true, but my boss’s wife was just diagnosed with a heart condition, and I was just at their house playing music to encourage them.”

“Who do you work for?”

“AmeriCorps.”

“Oh. Well, have a nice day.”

No ticket. Being a do-gooder does have its occasional perks.

Shocked

A while ago I wrote about a guy named “Tony.” What I didn’t tell you was about 3 weeks after I posted that, Tony went back to jail for what the Hope House staff called a “tune-up.” He had lied about a few things and the staff viewed him as a serious flight risk. My moment with Tony only really prolonged the inevitable by a few weeks.

They sent Tony to Johnson County Jail for at least a few months until his next court date. Since I had promised him that “we would be friends when he got out,” I put on my good-intentioned shoes and decided to pay him a visit. I called the jail, found out when the visiting hours were, and then nervously showed up one Friday afternoon in late November.

If you’ve ever visited someone in jail, you’ll know that the guards aren’t exactly customer service professionals. I entered the “waiting room,” rang a doorbell next to a window with the blinds down, and tried to sound like I knew what I was doing as I talked into the equivalent of a drive-through microphone.

“I’m here to see Tony.”

The lady drew the blinds, gave me a scowl, asked for my drivers license, and told me to sit down for an indefinite period of time until they invited me into the “visiting cell.” I made small talk with the other friends and family of inmates that were also waiting to be let in. One guy was there over a dispute of some belongings. Another lady just wanted to give her friend some cash.

After about a half hour, they finally called my name.

“Tony isn’t here. We transfered him to Marshalltown a couple weeks ago.”

Fail.

Or so I thought…

Yesterday I came into the Hope House, and Tony was there, smiling bigger than ever. I wanted to give him a hug, but I settled for a more appropriate fist pound.

“Hey, J. Good to see you. Mike told me about how you tried to visit me, man. I was shocked. That was totally unexpected. I mean, I was shocked!”

He meant it too. It was as if I was the first person in his whole life who had shown him genuine love. I asked him about his little girl, and told him about the community service projects he’d missed out on. I told him how it just wasn’t the same without him, and how we had been having trouble finding guys to sign up for community service. He told me that our troubles were over, and he was back in business.

If anyone actually wants to meet the man I refer to as “Tony,” or any of the many other awesome guys I get to work with, you’re most welcome to shadow me on the job just about any day of the week. Part of the AmeriCorps job description is that I recruit volunteers for community service. Our schedule is all over the place, but you can follow along at jcoworkcrew.blogspot.com.

Thankful

I can’t even begin to count all of the things I’m thankful for.

Last week I spent time with a man named “Tom” who is a resident of the Hope House. Tom is a very nice, quiet man about the age of 50. He is almost through the Hope House program, so he is able to get a decent amount of furlough time.

I asked Tom if he had any family in town. Tom told me that his wife and mother had recently passed away, but he has a sister in the area. I asked him if he was going to use his furlough time to have Thanksgiving with her. He told me her husband is a hunter, and he was not permitted to go to her house because they have a gun locked up at their home.

Tom spent Thanksgiving at the Hope House. I spent it at home with the most loving family in the world.

I can’t even begin to count all of the things I’m thankful for.

I almost ran

I know the Bible forbids favoritism, but I have to confess that I have a favorite resident of the Hope House.

His name is “Tony.” He is 26, hard-working, always hyped up on at least one pot of coffee, and absolutely hilarious.

This is a picture of him on a Habitat for Humanity project, where he was given the assignment of taking down the shed with a sledgehammer. With every swing, he would yell something like, “POLICE! OPEN UP! WE GOT A SEARCH WARRANT!” He went and “got his rage out” at the shed for about an hour until it was completely obliterated, and then passed out in the van for the rest of the day.

The first few times I was around Tony I was pretty intimidated. Of all the guys at the Hope House, I thought, Tony would be about the least likely person I could have related to. He loved community service, though, and came out on just about every project he could in order to get out of the Hope House and work towards paying off the thousands of dollars in court fines that he still owed.

After about the fifth day I’d worked with him, he came up to me and told me that it was “good working with me,” and he asked me if I was working tomorrow. I was stunned, but he saw something about me that he liked, and we’ve been pretty good friends ever since. Every day when I go to work I look at the community service sign up sheet and hope to see Tony’s name on it.

This last Friday, Tony signed up, but something was different about him. He always smiled, even when he was complaining (which he often was), and loved being the center of attention, but on Friday just rode silently in the back of the van to the project. We were cleaning Coralville’s busses, one of the easier and more enjoyable projects, but he seemed off in another world.

To tell you the truth, so was I that day. I didn’t feel like being at work at all, much less feeling like reaching out in a meaningful conversation to a convict. I’ll just say “a girl got me down,” and leave it at that.

Tony and I ended up together on a window cleaning detachment. I asked him how his two-year old girl was doing, and he got about as emotional as I’ve ever seen any resident. He told me how much he loved her, and how she had come to visit him at the Hope House this last week. He told me about how he had finally reached “Level 3,” where he could have gotten furlough time to go see her, but had gotten written up for trying to illegally sell someone’s bike (long story). With the setback, it would probably be at least another month before he could get out.

I kept listening, and he just kept talking. He told me about how his mom had died last month, and how he had never known his father. He told me of how he had ended up in the wrong crowd. He told me of how he had been going through a tough time lately.

“Specifically,” he paused, “last night.”

“I almost ran away last night.”

Tony works the midnight shift at a factory, and it hasn’t been going well for him. He gets in his forty hours every week, but it’s easy to see how much the job drains him. He can’t wait to get out of the Hope House and find another job, but if he leaves the factory job, he’ll risk keeping himself at the Hope House even longer. He told me that he had a really rough night at work, got off at 3:00 in the morning, and seriously contemplated buying a bus ticket that didn’t go back to the Hope House.

It was his girlfriend, he said, that talked him out of it. He had called her, telling her what he wanted to do, and she was able to talk some sense into him. She reminded him of his two-year old, as well as her nine-year old girl that Tony had been helping raise.

“I taught that girl her $&!%ing math tables, man! She’s like my daughter, and I knew I couldn’t leave her.”

For the first time in Tony’s life, he realized that it wasn’t just about him. He had his crisis moment, and decided to do the tough thing for someone else. He put his entire life into perspective, and decided there might be something more important than what he wanted or was feeling at the time.

As strange as this story might sound, you have to understand something. Tony is a smart guy, and there’s no doubt in my mind he could have gotten out of the state. He might not have ever ended up back in jail. Tony would also be fulfilling a typical cycle of men who grow up without fathers and choose to leave their own kids. For Tony, running wouldn’t have been completely illogical.

“You’re the first person I’ve told about it.”

I told him how encouraged I was by what he did. I told him that we were going to go get doughnuts to celebrate. I left another Americorps worker in charge and took Tony to Hy-Vee.

On the way over, I decided I would tell him something that I hadn’t really told anyone about, and unloaded all of my college white-middle-class girl problems to a 26-year old poor black felon.

“Her loss!” He told me as I finished my story. “You’re a $&^#ing rockstar!”

Somehow, I don’t think there could have been a more encouraging person in the world than Tony at that moment.

“If I wasn’t in this jam, we’d go partying together tonight and [have a pleasant time with many attractive girls.]” It was his highest form of encouragement. “You’re a ^$*#ing rockstar!”

“Tony,” I looked at him after we’d had our fill of doughnuts and had brought the leftovers back to the rest of the crew, “We need to be friends after you get out of here.”

His smile was back. “Oh, most definitely.”

“And we’re gonna both be rockstars,” he added.

The work is plentiful

Yesterday at work, Mike sent me out on my first solo community service adventure. After three weeks of build-up, I would actually be responsible for driving the van by myself to and from a project with four residents and one probationer.

“Where we headed?” One of the older guys in the van asked.

“Homestead. We’re helping plant 5,000 erroneous berry bushes.” I replied.

“$#!% … what kind of berries?” Another guy politely asked.

“No swearing in the Hope House van. They’re erroneous berry bushes. They are a super-fruit with a lot of anti-oxidants and will sell for lots of money.” I replied.

“Will there be any girls there?” the older gentleman wondered.

“Nope.” I answered, to his obvious disappointment.

Then I took one of the biggest risks of my life … a little counter-intuitive trick I’d learned from Mike.

“They heard you were coming and they all decided to stay home.” I said to him.

To my disbelief, the older gentleman thought that was the funniest joke in the world. I didn’t know the guy before then, but for the rest of the day we were best pals.

Homestead is about 15 miles outside of Iowa City, near the Amana colonies. Using the probationer’s blackberry GPS, we found the berry farm without any trouble.

The berry farm owner introduced himself as Mark Retter, the founder of Proverbs Ministries. He looked like about any middle aged Iowa farmer, with dirty clothes, raggedy beard, and a straw hat. He talked like a farmer, too, and showed us the work to be done and the tools we would use. It was pretty simple work, as the holes had already been dug and the plants were tiny. Mark was nice enough to bring us some lemonade.

I started talking with him, and he told me his life story. It’s a beautiful story of God’s grace and how he’s used his life to make that grace available to others. You can read it here.

Mark explained the crazy way in which he had acquired 5,000 erroneous berry bushes. It’s a weird story that only God could make happen. Mark had calculated that in three years, these berry bushes would be able to financially support a recovery center for over 50 struggling alcoholics. He’s been doing this ministry all his life, but feels that God is calling him to “enlarge his territory,” and has done so through the berry bushes.

The problem is that he needs help. Mark’s a member of a large evangelical church congregation in Cedar Rapids, but is still lacking manpower in order to finish the planting before the first frost. He’s contacted everyone he knows and every organization he can think of (including the half-way house), but he still needs more workers. He said he’ll take anyone, anytime (other than Saturday, because his step-daughter is getting married), for as long as they can give him. I told him I would do my best to spread the word.

The Hope House is sending out crews this Friday and Sunday to help him finish the work. There are at least 2,000 bushes that still need to be planted. If you are free, and live near the Iowa City area, please call Mark at 319-389-8992 and tell him you just want to help.

It’s actually quite enjoyable work, and there’s something amazingly Biblical and simple about the whole project. I’ve been seeing how beautiful it can be to be a part of God’s work, and I would strongly encourage you to at least check out his ministry. He said he’s in need of Bible counselors, work volunteers, website maintainers, and just average people with a heart to help people.

He’s just a simple guy with a beautiful purpose.

It’s like the movie, “Field of Dreams,” except better.

http://proverbsministries.com/index.php