Hope

Good evening. I am writing this week's Thursday Thought today because I won't be available this Thursday. So, you get two thoughts in three days !!

Today, I watched CBS News “60 Minutes.” I don't know if you watch that or not. But I try to watch it if possible. This evening, they had a piece on the situation in northwestern Syria. They concentrated on the medical care in that area. Syria, in the event you are unaware, has been going through over ten years of warfare within itself. Rebels want to overthrow the Assad regime, and of course, Mr. Assad wants to remain in power as his family has done for over five decades. Assad has help from Russia, which is complicit in everything Assad has done regarding genocide, chemical warfare, and other atrocities.

Not long ago, a huge earthquake shook the northwestern part of the country, causing massive building collapse and further pain and suffering, if that were possible, than what the war has been causing. Multiple tens of thousands of additional refugees were created by the quake, only adding on to the misery of the people.

I don't have the words to describe what I saw in the twenty minute piece aired by CBS. You'll have to watch it yourself on either the CBS site or on YouTube. I will tell you, though, that when I watch such scenes of horror and devastation, I normally have two things I think.

First, my anger increases. Anger with those carrying on the fighting. Anger with the world which is impotent or unwilling to stop it. Anger with the greed and self-centeredness that is usually at the heart of such battles. Anger that human beings could do such things to other human beings.

Second, I think of something Fred Rogers said years ago. He told us that when bad things are happening to look for the helpers. The helpers, he said, will always be there.

Rather than concentrate the rest of this post on my anger, I prefer to concentrate it on the helpers I saw in the piece. I can't name them all, but I saw rescuers, equipment operators, doctors, nurses, hospital staff, and others who were making it their life work to help others as best they could, given the dire situation which was presented to them. Without these helpers, the death toll would be even worse than it already is. They truly are angels sent by God.

In an interview with one of the doctors, the question was asked regarding what was most needed. The doctor could have said food, medications, supplies, and so on. But what he said was that people there need hope. Hope. Without hope, there is no future. Without hope, there is no desire for wholeness. Without hope, the nation will perish.

The doctor who was being interviewed believed he and others, in a small way, were giving hope to those they served. Besides setting bones, stitching wounds, and performing surgery, these people...the helpers...were giving hope to those they encountered. The people know they are not alone. They know there are others who care. They know they are not only on the minds of others, but are also in their hearts. And that gives hope.

I urge you to not only know what is happening in the world, but also what is happening outside your front door. There is always need. There also is always the need for the helpers. Those who will give hope to the hopeless. You can, even if in a small way, be a helper. You don't have to be a doctor or rescue professional. Everyone can give hope. Everyone can help in some way. Give it a try. I think you'll be glad you did.

Blessings.

Mr. Kruse

 We at the Plank household receive the Wichita Eagle paper edition six days a week.  They don’t print an edition on Saturdays.  One of my routines is to read, or at least skim through the newspaper while I’m eating my shredded wheat in the morning.  And one of the sub-routines within that routine is to check the obituaries for anyone I may know or know of who has passed away.

I don’t often find anyone that I know, and seldom find anyone I know of whose name appears in the obituary section of the paper.  However, sometimes, I see an old friend’s name, or an acquaintance…possibly from the deep past, or maybe even an old classmate or someone I knew from my home town.  Some may find this practice of mine a bit morbid; I don’t.  Knowing gives me an opportunity to possibly reach out to the family in some way, or perhaps even attend the services or at least sign the guest book or attend the graveside service, depending on how the family has decided to  honor the deceased.

Last week, I ran across a name in the obituaries that rang a bell in the distant past…over 50 years ago, in fact.  Following my graduation from high school, I attended WTI, a vocational school here in Wichita…still in business, by the way.  I took electronics technology training there under the tutelage of several instructors; one of whom was John Kruse, whose name showed up in the obituary section of the Eagle.

Mr. Kruse was my television instructor as well as my Industrial Electronics instructor.  His was the last class I attended there before my graduation.  For some reason, his name has stuck with me all these years.  I can recall one or two names of other instructors and associate instructors, but Mr.Kruse was the one I recall the best.

Reading his obituary, I see that he spent over 30 years at WTI and lived in Wichita all his adult life.  He was active in his church, had a family, and was also active in the community.  I would have, had I thought about doing so, loved to have seen and visited with him in his later years.  Of course, that’s no longer an option.

Every time I see in the obit section that someone I know or know of has passed, I get just a little melancholy for a short time thinking about the life that has passed, how I know or knew that person, what he or she meant to me, and how things have changed, if at all, since his or her passing.  Oh, I don’t get depressed, but I may get into a sort of a funk for a few days if the person who has passed away was close to me in some way.

Today, CJ, one of the other ministers, came to my door as he came in to work and asked me how I was doing.  He came into my office and we visited for just a bit about why I seem to be just a little bit “down” when seeing someone’s name in the obituary section who I’ve known or know.  Now, I don’t know if this is a normal thing or not.  I only know how I sometimes feel during times like this.  But as we talked, one thing came out rather clearly.

John Kruse was doing his job when he taught our class.  Yes, he did it well.  But it was a job for  him.  Work.  It was what he did for a living.  Yet, in many ways, he had, and still has, a profound effect on me.  Had he not been my instructor, I may well have still done well and did what I have done in life.  But I can’t be sure of that.  And if I was a betting man, I would bet that in some way, some how, he steered me, probably unknowingly, into the place where I am today through something he said or did all those years ago that made my life-series of events what they are and brought me to this place in time.

And the more I think about this, the more I can relate that truth to my own life and those events and people that I have affected in some way.  Often, and especially in ministry, it is difficult if not impossible to measure success.  Oh, we might look at the attendance or collection numbers.  And once in a while we might succeed in celebrating a conversion or perhaps a positive result from a benevolent act or some kind of counseling.  But by far most of the time what we do isn’t results-oriented in the same way that some other occupations are.  We can’t count the number of widgets that come off of our assembly line.  We don’t know how many people we have cured of some illness.  We don’t measure our work by the number of acres of farmland we work in a day or how many cattle we can sell at market.

But, just as John Kruse, all these years, has been an influence on my life, so I must believe and acknowledge that I have been and continue to be an influence on others, and that THAT influence will likely outlive me, possibly by many years or even decades.  The question is, will that influence be positive or negative…good or bad…uplifting or damaging?

I thank God that Mr. Kruse was part of my life.  I am also thankful that I can be a positive influence on others, even if I never know what I’ve said or done, or how I have influenced someone else.  And I trust that He will see to it that my influence will “work together for the good,” in someone’s life.

You Can, Too

 There are some days when I like to take the long way to the office.  Most of those days, I’ll turn to the South instead of to the North as I exit our neighborhood and will drive out toward what passes for the rural area of Sedgwick County.  I say, “What passes for the rural area” because there aren’t a lot of places left in the county where you can go and not see a house or some kind of development within your field of vision.  One also will find several paved roads in the county…something not often seen in the genuinely rural areas of Kansas.

Today was one of those days.  I went South on Maize Road and turned left on 47^th Street South.  I was heading to South Broadway where I’d make my entrance to the city and come on in to work.  I hadn’t traveled 47^th Street into Broadway before, so I didn’t realize that it dead-ended at the Big Ditch.  I had to turn around and go on south to 55^th, where I crossed the ditch, came to Broadway, and started into the city.

Somewhere between 31^st Street and Pawnee, there is a noticeable change in what one sees when driving South Broadway.  That change lasts until crossing under Kellogg into the downtown business district.  The area becomes a place where one sees a number of folks who, in all probability, either have no place to call home, are living day to day in one of the numerous motels in the area, and are looking for any way they can find to survive the day.

Men are carrying large backpacks as they walk from who-knows-where to who-knows-where.  The entirety of their earthly possessions is probably in that backpack.  Women are sitting on curbs, waiting for whatever, or whoever may come their way.  There’s a man over there picking through a dumpster beside a café.  A couple of guys are on bicycles, burdened down with sacks and backpacks.  A couple is walking out of a motel parking lot onto the street.  A man crosses the street in front of me, forcing me to slow down to let him pass.  He seems oblivious to any traffic.  Inexpensive motels are numerous along with “NO TRESSPASSING” signs everywhere.

Most of the people I see in that neighborhood are in need of a shave, a shower, clean clothes, dental work, or some combination thereof.  Many, if I knew their age, would look years older than their chronological age.  Many, if I just knew, would not have a government identification.  Most all would not have a job.  Many would be substance users.  Many probably get what little money they have through illicit or illegal means.  And many of those I saw could really benefit from decent mental health care.

Yet these folks may be the fortunate ones among those in the homeless and near-homeless community.  Several of them can somehow get enough cash during the day that they can afford a motel room for the night, or at least pay half of the bill and room with someone else.  They may well have friends in the area who can partner with them to help keep away danger and thieves at night.  And food is usually available, at least at times.

But there are some in the homeless community who are so mentally ill or are so tripped out on drugs that they can’t think well enough to find a place inside for the night.  Their behavior is sometimes so bizarre that no one else will befriend them, and no one will associate with them.  They may go days without food because they are so strung out or are suffering a mental crisis to the point that they can’t function even for the basic necessities.

If you live in the Wichita area, and you haven’t driven South Broadway for awhile, please do so at your earliest convenience.  Look around as you go down the street.  Notice those who are otherwise not noticed by polite society.  Think about the fact that these people all have a story.  They all have had, and many still have, family somewhere.  Their main goal each day is survival, whatever that looks like for them.  One hour follows another…one day follows another…one month follows another.  For them, it is an endless entanglement in the web of defeat and isolation that has been spun largely by the upper classes.

We ourselves have created this issue.  As a society we have marginalized, ignored, and vilified those who didn’t measure up to our middle and upper class standards.  Even more importantly, we have failed to heed the words of the Great Teacher of some two thousand years ago when he said that we are to, first of all, love God with all of our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and then just like that command, to love our neighbor as we love ourselves.  Corollaries to those teachings are the Golden Rule…do to others as you’d like others to do to you…and a host of other teachings that speak of sharing with those who don’t have, befriending the friendless, having compassion on the less fortunate, and seeing all people as children of God worthy of dignity and respect.

Greed and self-centeredness is front and center in our society.  Except we call it ambition and drive, and we celebrate it.  Our culture runs on it…feeds off of it.  And in so doing, we push aside and marginalize those who don’t fit into our cultural box.

I can’t do everything, but I can do something.  I can abide by the Golden Rule.  I can learn what it means to love my neighbor.  I can develop compassion for others.  I can change my attitude and my actions.  I can make a difference.  And you can too.

 

Blessings.

Connecting the Dots

 I am torn, in this Thursday Thought, between two topics (if you will) that have been in my mind these past few days.  One was my witnessing a simple act of kindness on a public street in Wichita toward a homeless wheelchair-bound woman.  The other was the monthly blog post by my friend in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Kendra Broekhuis, as she described something that happened in her immediate neighborhood.

I think that somehow, these two stories come together in some way…I just can’t seem to make them do so yet.  Hopefully, as I write this thought today, some of the pieces will fall into place.

The act of kindness came as I was walking along West Douglas a few days ago getting some exercise in the afternoon warmth.  As I walked toward a woman in a wheelchair coming toward me, I noticed the classic signs of homelessness in her as well as her inability to walk.  She had stopped, and was conversing with a couple of women outside an office building, asking them for directions to some place…I didn’t hear where.  The women, who I believe were on their break, assured her that she was on the right path.  As I passed the wheelchair, one of the office women asked if the lady would like her to push her across the next street, which was Waco.  The woman in the wheelchair readily and thankfully agreed.  As I continued on my way, I looked back a couple of times and noticed both women with the wheelchair lady, one of whom was pushing her.  I noticed they got her across the street ahead of them…then I lost sight of them.  Truly a random and simple act of kindness that crossed the socio-economic and class barriers.

The other event came through Kendra’s monthly blog where she described some goings-on in her immediate neighborhood that were both illegal and immoral.  She and her husband had contacted their city representatives and tried other ways to mitigate the situation with no results.  They had also contacted social service agencies and faith-based non-profits and received much the same response, or lack thereof.  It seemed there was no easy solution to the problem.

Kendra learned a hard lesson…that there often is no quick and straightforward answer to many of the societal ills of the day.  One of the faith-based ministries they had contacted for help with the issue responded to her in this email regarding helping women who are caught up in homelessness and human trafficking.

 

So that I don’t get your hopes up about immediate resolution, I want to give you a sense of the process of change: once a woman engages with our services, we begin working on her housing challenges if that is a reason she is on the street.  Because of the extreme lack of housing resources in our community, it can take 3-5 months to help a client access permanent housing.  If a client is open to shelter, that can usually be achieved in days to a couple of weeks.

There is a similar challenge with substance use treatment – the waiting lists for inpatient/residential treatment run 2-3 months out.  Thus, a person struggling with addiction and no safe housing often has very few immediate options.  However, we are assisting women every day to take the steps necessary to move into housing and treatment.  It just takes more time than any of us would wish due to the systemic scarcity of needed resources.

 

As Kendra thinks about what she has seen in her neighborhood and the incredible difficulty in finding and providing appropriate services, she has, she says, many more questions than she has answers.  Here are just some of those questions.  I’ve edited some of them so you can better understand them since I didn’t tell the entire story for you in this post.

 

·         If we never see the fruit of our work in the Kingdom, how do we know we’re even planting the right seeds?

·         What does it look like to care?

·         What does it look like to mistakenly believe we can fix something or someone?

·         What am I supposed to DO?  When do words become empty?  When does silence further the harm instead of help heal it?

·         Why are Christians surprised by mass exits from church?

·         Why are Christians surprised by women, the homeless, the minorities, and the marginalized being tired of the way they’re treated?

·         When do our conversations about grace forget to include accountability?

·         When do our conversations about accountability forget to include grace?

 

I still am not certain where and how these two stories…the one about  the random act of kindness, and the one about the goings-on in Kendra’s neighborhood…connect.  I’m thinking that one way they may connect is to recall that old statement attributed to Edward Everett Hale.  “I am only one, but I am one.  I cannot do everything, but I can do something.  And because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.”

Sometimes those of us who work with parts of society who present with some kind of profound need become overwhelmed at the magnitude of both the problem and the proposed solution.  We come to the point that we say, “What IS the point?  Why am I paddling against the current?  What am I accomplishing here besides busy work?  I can’t fix this, and can barely put a band aid on, so to speak, enough to cover the need for a day or two.”

We can bring that idea down to these two events.  What did pushing the wheelchair lady a few hundred feet really accomplish?  Did it fix her homelessness or inability to walk?  Were those two women paddling against the current, so to speak, when they offered to help her?  Should they have done more?

And what about Kendra?  She and her husband have tried many different avenues to remedy a situation with no results.  And the prospects for real resolution apparently are slim to none, given the response of the one faith-based agency.  Have they been wasting their time?  Should they even be involved in the situation since what is going on in the neighborhood alleyway is said by some to be a “victimless” crime?

As Christians, we are told to plant the seeds of the Kingdom.  Some of us are also told to water those seeds and seedlings.  But that’s it as far as I can determine.  We’re not told to be concerned with how to assure results or even that we will know, or deserve to know, if our seed-planting and watering are having the desired effect.  We are just told to plant and water.  And leave the rest to God, who will give the increase.  And I think that applies well in both of these situations.

We can do something.  We can plant the seeds of the kingdom.  We can water them.  We may or may not ever see the increase God has assured will happen.  And we will have to be content with that.

Blessings.