Reaping and Counting the Blessings

The Basics:

Thirty (30) new Mocha Club sign-ups today alone, at Crossroads Community Church in Vancouver, WA, and sold out of all but two remaining Not For Sale bags. This performance wasn’t on our schedule until two weeks ago. Tonight’s event with the young adults of The Bridge wasn’t on our schedule until 2:00pm today.

Forty-Eight (48) total new Mocha Club sign-ups for the last three weeks. Provision for basic necessities. Countless new host homes full of families who never knew us but welcomed us in nonetheless. We haven’t yet had to shake the dust off our feet.

The Depth:

Two older women (mid-60’s) shared their stories today of passion for the Jewish women of Israel and Palestine, and for the young people of the slums in India. They may not have joined Mocha Club, but they’re doing their part. One of these women recently brought a neighbor into her home at 7:00am after finding the neighbor wandering around the neighborhood looking for an open door or a turned-on light…a place to escape the brutal beating she’d received from the bar hound she’d picked up and brought home the night before.

One woman’s story of love and compassion for Mercy and Dusty. It hit home for her, as she recently took in her own niece after learning that her sister’s boyfriend was molesting the 11-year-old child. The girl joined Mocha Club this morning. The aunt also took in another nephew. She’s their safe house.

A college student this evening talked about how she’s had four opportunities now to join Mocha Club, and has felt pulled to the organization every time, but found some financial excuse not to join up until tonight. But upon hearing Mercy’s story, she couldn’t not join. Her words. She had to do something.

One man who’s been in a band for quite some time, but can’t find the right venue or audience for their hardcore christian music. Simply giving him a few contact names brightened his evening and spun the wheels. He left a little more hopeful.

Five women this morning purchased bags made by former sex slaves because they’d personally known or been close to similarly abused women in their own lives, and saw the difference that simple gift of purchase gives. They’re not giving hand-outs, but supporting a livelihood. And wearing it on their arms.

And that’s just today.

But maybe two of the most significant stories from this tour are the following.

Last weekend, in San Jose (Milpitas), at another show that hadn’t made our schedule until a week or so into touring, I recounted Mercy’s story, inviting people to join Mocha Club and be part of the redemption efforts on behalf of abused women and children and their abusers. The seven-year-old daughter of Prince’s (yeah, THE Prince) former saxaphonist (I even remembered him from the old mtv videos) spent fifteen minutes with me afterward asking about Mercy and other girls like her, how they’re living now, if their needs are being met, and if they’re being protected from the monsters. She said Mercy was so much like her, she felt bad she got to live in America, and wished she could trade places with Mercy. But instead, she settled for my promise to send her a picture of Mercy with Mark, so that she could pray for her every day, “and maybe someday go and meet her.” This, from a seven-year-old.

And last Monday, after I shared my two girls’ stories at our concert in Reno, NV, recounting how my neighbor growing up ended up pregnant with her own father’s child at age 13 and likely aborted it, one 14-year-old student approached me, visibly agitated and struggling. She said, “My mom told me that abortion is wrong. But if that girl’s daddy is the one who did it to her, he’s wrong too. So which one is worse?” It both broke and lifted my heart to tell her simply, “It’s a sick, ugly cycle of sin. And to our God, sin is sin is sin, and there is only One cure. And that’s what we’re doing here: we’re giving people the medicine for their sickness. Because all of them are wholly innocent and wholly guilty.” The girl simply replied, “Well, at least Jesus loves them all and can save them.” Indeed, young friend, indeed. And Lord bless her for asking the hard questions!

I feel like we’re beginning to reap the blessings of a tour marked by simple if clumsy and occasionally foolish faith.

But I’m learning there is no such thing as foolhardy faith when it is faith in God.

He has taken what little we had at the start and multiplied it on behalf of thousands of people in Africa, around the world, and right here in the States. On our behalf, even. And I feel utterly small and overwhelmed by His magnificent grace seeping through every seam and filling every crack.

I am in awe.

To Walk: To Crawl: To Fly

To walk is to crawl is to fly. That’s what I’m learning.

This month-long tour along the West Coast has been a hard one. As of now – our first day off – we’ve played 15 shows in 11 days. Thank God, my voice is holding up!

Still, it’s been financially rough. Not bringing in much (if any) income…probably not enough to break even. It’s had Mariah and I worried aplenty. As we’ve told people, it’s been a walk of faith which at times has felt like a free fall off a cliff and we’re not quite sure where the bottom is or if it’s soft.

I think I knew going in that we might not break even. We might lose some cash. Expenses might exceed income. And it seems foolish in many ways. To knowingly walk straight into financial loss.

But at the same time…

We’ve sold out of Not For Sale TN’s bird whistles, and are nearly sold out of the burlap bags, which were all handmade by former sex slaves, and for which 100% of proceeds go back to the creatively free women.

So far, 16 people have signed up for Mocha Club, which means 16 Africans have clean water, or two Africans have malaria treatment or mosquito nets. It means kids can go to school in clothing and shoes, farmers have jobs and supplies. It means more jobs in South Africa. It means women and children in Gulu, Uganda don’t have to live as sex slaves or boy soldiers. It means hope.

We’ve played dancing games and music and face painting and bouncing castle with Iraqi and Nepali refugees in Tucson, given melodic hope and respiration to dozens of young men living out their current lives in jail, and are looking forward to spending this Friday morning worshiping with the women of Portland’s Union Gospel Mission and much of next week with young and old prisoners all over the Seattle area.

And if I’d been told at the start that we’d make no money but rather come out in the red, and that the best we could hope for was  water and medicine and jobs and safety for those Africans, more raised money to keep former sex slaves out of slavery, and the opportunity to lift the spirits of some of the most downcast souls among us…

Well, I know God is the God of upside-down things. Financial worry is very trendy and apropos. Freedom from that worry is backwards, especially when it means giving up safety and security for the undeserving.

And bottom line is, if I knew at the start what I know now, I wouldn’t have cancelled or changed a thing. It’s a matter of purpose, not money.

How many of you have been let down by God or someone who believed in Him?

It was the first thing I asked the eighteen 16- to 18-year-old boys today at the Pinal County Juvenile Detention in Florence, AZ. And not surprisingly, every single boy raised his hand.

I went on to sing “Barely Breathing,” “Where Are You Now,” “In You,” and “Free” for them, while some amazing women from Living Word Bible Church here in Mesa, AZ talked to them about forgiveness and freedom, about leaving the past in the past and letting today be the beginning of reality. We talked to them about being angry with God about circumstances; about feeling lost and stifled; about loving and being loved.

We talked about how they are the church within these walls, and have the power to give people Jesus.

And, just like when I left the Dorcas House in Little Rock a few weeks ago, I walked out of the room with those boys feeling overwhelmed with joy and purpose and direction.

My soul was deeply satisfied at the evidence of Christ’s work among the lost and the least. They were teenage boys whom many would say are already lost causes. Boys who’ve done everything from stealing to murder. Boys who know about God but maybe haven’t really grasped their great worth and value God has planted in them.

I got to tell them and show them a little bit. I got to tell them they are significant and intended for greatness. That no matter where they’ve been or what they’ve done, it’s not the end of the story but one small paragraph. I got to be the pretty girl who made them feel like a worthy boy.

While I can’t read minds, and am not particularly good at reading faces, I know I was living for the right thing today. I honestly did leave going, “Yes, yes. This is what I’m meant for. These people are who I’m meant to serve.” The lost and the least within my reach. They get the darkness of my songs, and they take hold of the hope creeping in through the notes. Maybe better than anyone else.

And with them, I begin to understand that my songs weren’t given to me just for my hope or benefit, but for these as well.

I am pleased. Overjoyed! Exuberant!

I am alive today, with these Beloved of God.