Prostitutes have birthdays too

A fellow blogger and friend suggested I read this as she knew how much I would like it. She was right! I promise I have not turned this blog into sermon central, but I did want to share this from Tony Campolo with you. It made me think of all the times I miss opportunities to be Christ through my actions not my words. Thank you Pam for sharing this with me.

I had to go to speak in Honolulu. Well, sometimes you get L.A. and sometimes you get Honolulu. If you go to Honolulu, because of the distance from the east coast where I live, there’s a six‐hour time difference. And I woke up at about three o’clock in the morning and I was hungry and I wanted to get something to eat. But, in a hustling city like Honolulu at three o’clock in the morning, it’s hard to find anything that’s open. Up a side street, I spotted this greasy spoon, and I went in.

It was one of these dirty places and they didn’t have any booths, just row of stools at the counter. I sat down a bit uneasy and I didn’t touch the menu. It was one of those plastic menus and grease had piled up on it. I knew that if I opened it, something extraterrestrial would have crawled out. All of the sudden, this very heavy‐set, unshaved man with a cigar came out of the back room, put down his cigar, and said, “What do you want?”

I said, “I’d like a cup of coffee and a donut.”

He poured the coffee and then he scratched himself and, with the same hand, picked up the donut. I hate that. So, there I am, three‐thirty in the morning, drinking my coffee, and eating this dirty donut. And into the place comes about eight or nine prostitutes. It’s a small place, they sit on either side of me, and I tried to disappear.

The woman on my immediate right was very boisterous and she said to her friend, “Tomorrow’s my birthday. I’m going to be thirty‐nine.”
Her friend said, “So what do you want me to do? Do you want me to sing happy birthday? Should we have a cake? a party? It’s your birthday.”

The first woman said, “Look, why do you have to put me down? I’ve never had a birthday party in my whole life. I don’t expect to have one now.”

That’s all I needed.
I waited until they left and I called Harry over and I asked, “Do they come in here every night?
He said, “Yes.”
I said, “The one right next to me…”
“Agnes.”
“Tomorrow is her birthday. What do you think about decorating the place? When she comes in tomorrow night, we’ll throw a birthday party for her. What do you think?”

He said, “Mister, that is brilliant. That is brilliant!” He called his wife out of the back room. “Jan, come out here. I want you to meet this guy. He wants to throw a birthday party for Agnes.”

She came out and took my hand and squeezed it tightly, and said, “You wouldn’t understand this, mister, but Agnes is one of the good people, one of the kind people in this town. And nobody ever does anything for her, and this is a good thing. I said, “Can I decorate the place?” She said, “To your heart’s content.”

I said, “I’m going to bring a birthday cake…
Harry said, “Oh no! The cake’s my thing!”

So, I got there the next morning at about two‐thirty. I had bought the streamers at the K‐mart, strung them about the place. I had made a big poster – “”Happy Birthday Agnes” ‐ and put it behind the counter. I had the place spruced up. Everything was set. Everything was ready.

Jan, who does the cooking, she had gotten the word out on the street. By three‐fifteen, every prostitute was squeezed into this diner. People, it was wall‐to‐wall prostitutes and me!

Three‐thirty in the morning, in come Agnes and her friends. I’ve got everybody set, everybody ready. As they come through the door, we all yell, “Happy birthday Agnes!”

In addition, we start cheering like mad. I’ve never seen anybody so stunned. Her knees buckled. They steadied her and sat her down on the stool. We all started singing, “Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday to you!”

When they brought out the cake, she lost it and started to cry. Harry just stood there with the cake and said, “All right, knock it off Agnes. Blow out the candles. Come on, blow out the candles.” She tried, but she couldn’t, so he blew out the candles, gave her the knife, and said, “Cut the cake, Agnes.”

She sat there for a long moment and then she said to me, “Mister, is it okay if I don’t cut the cake? What I’d like to do, mister, is take the cake home and show it to my mother. Could I do that?” I said, “It’s your cake.” She stood up, and I said, “Do you have to do it now?”

She said, “I live two doors down. Let me take the cake home and show it to my mother. I promise you I’ll bring it right back.” And she moved toward the door carrying the cake as though it was the Holy Grail. As she pushed through the crowd and out the door, the door swung slowly shut and there was stunned silence. You talk about an awkward moment. Everyone was motionless. Everyone was still. I didn’t know what to say.

So, I finally said, “What do you say, we pray?” It’s weird looking back on it now. You know a sociologist leading a prayer meeting with a bunch of prostitutes at three‐thirty in the morning in a diner. But, it was the right thing to do.

I prayed that God would deliver her from what dirty filthy men had done to her. You know how these things start ‐ some ten, eleven, or twelve‐year‐old girl gets messed over and destroyed by some filthy man and then she goes downhill from there. And men use her and abuse her. I said, “God, deliver her and make her into a new creation because I’ve got a God who can make us new no matter where we’ve been or what we’ve been through.” And I prayed that God would make her new.

When I finished my prayer, Harry leaned over the counter and he said, “Campolo, you told me you were a sociologist. You’re no sociologist, you’re a preacher. What kind of church do you belong to?”

In one of those moments when you come up with just the right words, I said, “I belong to a church that throws birthday parties for prostitutes at three‐thirty in the morning.”

I’ll never forget his response. He looked back at me and he said, “No you don’t, no you don’t. I would join a church like that!

Wouldn’t we all? Wouldn’t we all like to belong to a church that threw birthday parties for prostitutes at three‐thirty in the morning? Well, I’ve got news for you. That is the kind of church that Jesus came to create. He came to bring celebration into people’s lives that have had nothing to celebrate.

This is true religion, says the epistle of James, to visit the fatherless, the widows, and the afflicted and bring celebration into their lives. He is the Christ who saves you from sin and fills you with his joy, commissions you to go out and to spread that joy to the world because the Lord has come.

The Lord has come. It’s a joy that comes from forgiveness of sins. It’s a joy that comes when you spread it to others by the grace of God. But lastly, it’s a great joy that is able to permeate your life even in the midst of hard times. Even in the midst of suffering. That’s what makes it different from happiness. Happiness depends on what happens. Joy is something that keeps you going even when what is happening isn’t going well at all.

You’re sick, have cancer, trouble with your children, marriage falling apart ‐ and in the midst of it all, we have these words from scripture, from Romans 8:28, “In the midst of all that’s going on, all the messes of your life, God is there with you, and he will enable you to bring something good out of it all if you just trust in him and allow his spirit to work through you to this end.”

You may ask, “Do we understand each other?” Nevertheless, what you’re thinking is, “You don’t understand. I’ve got a daughter. She’s on drugs my son’s messed up; he’s in jail. And it’s hopeless.” It’s never hopeless.

In the words of that great American theologian Yogi Berra, “It ain’t over till it’s over.” God will not give up on you or on your family. God will not give up on his world. He didn’t come into the world to condemn the world but to deliver it and to give to the world joy, joy, joy, joy, unspeakable joy.

I invite you to the Christ who will give you joy because your sins will be forgiven. Who will give you joy because he commissions you to share that joy with other people. And when the dark times come and the sorrows of life overwhelm you, there will be joy because you will know that beyond the present time is the glorious present, the glorious gift that God has in store for all who trust in him.

© Copyright Hour of Power 2009. This message was delivered by Tony Campolo from the pulpit of the Crystal Cathedral and aired on the Hour of Power, September 27, 2009.

It’s Friday, but Sunday’s Coming

Dr. Campolo tells how he preached the perfect sermon in every way and had taken the congregation to ‘the heights of glory’. As he sat down beside his pastor, Dr. Tony patted him on the knee and simply said, “Top that.” The older black pastor looked at him and said, “Boy, watch the master.” Then Dr. Campolo recalls for us the very brilliant message which followed.

The following is a short printed version of the 45 minute sermon–the printed version doesn’t really do justice to the original, but you can at least get an idea what the last part is like:

It’s Friday. But Sunday’s coming—

It was a simple sermon, starting softly, building in volume and intensity until the entire congregation was completely involved, repeating the phrases in unison. The sermon went something like this.

It’s Friday. Jesus is arrested in the garden where He was praying. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. The disciples are hiding and Peter’s denying that he knows the Lord. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Jesus is standing before the high priest of Israel, silent as a lamb before the slaughter. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Jesus is beaten, mocked, and spit upon. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Those Roman soldiers are flogging our Lord with a leather scourge that has bits of bones and glass and metal, tearing at his flesh. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. The Son of man stands firm as they press the crown of thorns down into his brow. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. See Him walking to Calvary, the blood dripping from His body. See the cross crashing down on His back as He stumbles beneath the load. It’s Friday; but Sunday’s a coming.

It’s Friday. See those Roman soldiers driving the nails into the feet and hands of my Lord. Hear my Jesus cry, “Father, forgive them.” It’s Friday; but Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Jesus is hanging on the cross, bloody and dying. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. The sky grows dark, the earth begins to tremble, and He who knew no sin became sin for us. Holy God who will not abide with sin pours out His wrath on that perfect sacrificial lamb who cries out, “My God, My God. Why hast thou forsaken me?” What a horrible cry. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. And at the moment of Jesus’ death, the veil of the Temple that separates sinful man from Holy God was torn from the top to the bottom because Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Jesus is hanging on the cross, heaven is weeping and hell is partying. But that’s because it’s Friday, and they don’t know it, but Sunday’s a coming.

And on that horrible day 2000 years ago, Jesus the Christ, the Lord of glory, the only begotten Son of God, the only perfect man died on the cross of Calvary. Satan thought that he had won the victory. Surely he had destroyed the Son of God. Finally he had disproved the prophecy God had uttered in the Garden and the one who was to crush his head had been destroyed. But that was Friday.

Now it’s Sunday. And just about dawn on that first day of the week, there was a great earthquake. But that wasn’t the only thing that was shaking because now it’s Sunday. And the angel of the Lord is coming down out of heaven and rolling the stone away from the door of the tomb. Yes, it’s Sunday, and the angel of the Lord is sitting on that stone and the guards posted at the tomb to keep the body from disappearing were shaking in their boots because it’s Sunday, and the lamb that was silent before the slaughter is now the resurrected lion from the tribe of Judah, for He is not here, the angel says. He is risen indeed.

It’s Sunday, and the crucified and resurrected Christ has defeated death, hell, sin and the grave. It’s Sunday. And now everything has changed. It’s the age of grace, God’s grace poured out on all who would look to that crucified lamb of Calvary. Grace freely given to all who would believe that Jesus Christ died on the cross of Calvary was buried and rose again. All because it’s Sunday.

At the end of the message the pastor shouts out

It’s Friiidaaaay!

And the whole congregation responds:

But Sunday’s Coming!

This exert was taken from Answers for the Faith
To download as an audio message, click here

Five Minute Friday: Good-Bye

Around here we write for five minutes flat on Fridays.

We set a timer, throw caution to the winds and try to remember what it was like to just write without worrying if it’s  right or not.

I wrote for 5 minutes… and then proceeded to look through pictures for about 2 hours.
As the words began to flow from my heart to my hands faster than I can type, my eyes began to sting as I felt the tears well up. “What is wrong with me?!” I wondered.

I realized as I was looking through years of pictures that it had all gone by so fast. Things that I remember as happening last week, were in reality, last year. How did I not see it in the moment. Those precious, fleeting moments…

There never seems to be enough time. When it seems that we should be saying, “Hello.” we are already saying, “Good-bye.”

Our good-bye’s are seldom “good.”

It is always bittersweet and at times involves tears and a lot of dark chocolate post parting.

There is never a time in the day when I don’t think about “My Bella.”
Not a moment passes when I am not wondering what she’s doing or if she had a great day… does she like a new boy? Is she remembering to accentuate her incredible eyes with the makeup she has been so anxious to apply, instead of caking it on? Is she being told how incredibly beautiful and gifted she is? Does she know how much I love her? Does she have any idea what a treasure she is? How I adore her? The prayers I say for her?

There are times when I miss her so much that my heart actually hurts inside my chest.

I have a new understanding for the word heartache as every time my little girl leaves, she takes an irreplaceable piece of my heart with her.

How fitting for the topic to be “good-bye.” Friend or foe, I know it’s capability of relief and also that of sorrow, all too well.

The following pictures were taken hours, sometimes minutes, before my Bella and I said, “Good-bye.”

On the airplane from Cali to Bama for visitation

At the Wiggles Live Show

Halloween fun

She's home from her summer visit in Bama

Milkshake in Brevard, NC

Happy Birthday!

At our house in Cali before she left for her summer visitation

Spreading Christmas cheer at CHOA. Bella wanted everyone to have an "I Am Loved" pin. She even handed them out in line at Starbucks.

Her first role as a fairy in "A Midsummer Night's Dream"

Sunday that is usually our day of "Good-bye"

Birthday

Summer visits make my heart happy

Silly faces

Crazy face!

Pouty face

Donated 12 inches of hair to "Locks of Love"

My heart

What is Easter? (in layman’s terms)

Ever drive by a church during the Easter season and see the cross that stands in front draped with a sash? I have always seen them in passing and thought, “Oh, I get it! Purple is before he died, Black for when he died and White for when he rose again. Flowers? New life? I guess? That’s cool.”

That was about as far as my thoughts went.

This year was different. I sought out a cross adorned with a sash. There were two that I really loved.

The pictures below document how I would describe Easter to someone who had never heard of it and knew nothing of it’s meaning. I have many friends who are not believers in Christ nor do they want to discuss what they think to be a fictitious fairy tale. Easter is no fairy tale. It’s a horror story of injustice and brutality with a twist and an ending that no one saw coming.

This is a way for me to make this super personal. Please do not read this as me comparing myself to Jesus. That is not the way it is intended.

PURPLE

Everyone was seemingly happy and supportive. There were high fives and praises being thrown around like they were nothing. Jesus could do no wrong. In fact, people lined the streets to see him. They even talked about how incredible he was. I would go so far as to say that they adored him. In my own life, I can compare this to when I’m the one with the credit card and open tab at the bar and yell, “DRINKS ON ME!” Everyone’s happy, right? There’s a lot of love being passed around.

BLACK

Something went wrong. People began to turn on Jesus and accuse him of things that he had never done. They yelled terrible things to the people in command. This is an example of words truly having the “power of life and death.” They demanded his demise. Those closest to him felt that all hope was lost.
Applying this to present day… This is when my credit card is declined and no one wants to talk to me anymore. The house lights come up and people begin accusing me of stealing, being promiscuous and talking about things I know nothing about. They slay my reputation with their words and judgements. This is when my mom says, “I don’t know what happened? She was such a “good” girl.” The world goes dark and I begin to think that I might never recover.

WHITE

Resurrection. Hope is not lost. The light of the world has not been snuffed out. Those people who were screaming, “Crucify him!” were now scrambling. How could this be? They weren’t counting on him actually being who he said he was. They weren’t counting on him actually going through with the plan.
For me, this one is all about God. I have absolutely nothing to do with this part. (SIDE NOTE: Today when I told my son that we needed to throw his shirt in the wash right away because he had spilled chocolate milk on it, he asked, “What’s a stain?” Without hesitation I replied, “It’s something that leaves a permanent mark.” Wait…what? That’s right. It’s something that leaves a permanent mark. I learn so much in conversations with my kids) I was stained. The marks were difficult to see in darkness, but when brought into the light, they were absolutely glaring.

Then God… met me where I was… in the depths. He scooped me up and didn’t promise me ease, he just promised me possible.

A new life began from that point.
I was dead in my sin.
Now I am alive in forgiveness and grace.

NEW LIFE

Today, my life, is a masterpiece.
The masterpiece began on the day I was born and will continue for the rest of my life.

I will never look at those crosses the same way again. How could I? Now it’s personal.

Guest Post: Bella’s Cross

This Monday’s post comes from my beautiful Bella. She is not only a gifted writer, but a talented artist as well. I am honored to share her work with you here. Thank you for continuing to read and comment.

Bella's Cross...on yellow, lined paper

We lay our sorrows at His feet
He cares for us

In our strife and our defeat
He matures us

So we lift our white flag
And surrender it all to Him
For the sake of becoming

We lay it all down
At the foot of the cross

3.30.12
By Isabella
(Inspired by the song White Flag by Chris Tomlin from Passion 2012)

Five Minute Friday: Light

Every Friday I link up to The Gypsy Mama for Five Minute Friday. It is a time when I can write uninhibited and not spend hours editing and tweaking. It’s fun, you should try it. On this good Friday, the prompt is “light.” Ready?

Light
by Joy Cannis

Light dispels darkness.

The light of the world paid the ultimate sacrifice to ensure that I did not have to live in darkness, but He still left the choice up to me.

When I let that truth sink in I am overwhelmed with gratitude.

I began praying more than 10 years ago that God would make me a light in a dark world. That I would so shine before others that they could not help but ask what was fueling the flame.

It has been a process…a journey.

I remember the first time someone asked me what was different about me. I was at work and talking with a co worker who was rather ruff around the edges. She had never been nice to me or opened up to me about anything.

On this particular day, that all changed. After a discussion lasting only a few minutes she asked, “What’s different about you? Why are you always so… happy?!”

With a smile I said, “Believe me, I’m not always happy. This has been one of the hardest years of my life. But I believe in a God who is faithful even when it doesn’t feel like it. It’s easier for me to rest in that and praise Him for what He has already done. There is no denying His track record.”

This led to many more conversations about God and all of the many things that go along with believing in Him.

I would love to tell you that we had this magical moment where we knelt down, a bright light shown down on us and because of something I had said, she professed her faith in Jesus. It didn’t happen that way. She and I are still having conversations.

Our relationship keeps me seeking when every day life as a believer feels mundane. I wish it never felt that way, but I will not apologize for saying that it does.

I can’t see her heart. Maybe she does believe? Maybe she has surrendered her life to the One who loves her enough to die? Only she and God know the answer to that.

What I can see is what happens when I obey and trust. God has called me to be a light in the world. Only light can bring more light. Some people will misunderstand, maybe even become annoyed by the fact that I am a card carrying, Jesus lovin’ gal who is sold out to Christ. That’s okay. We all have to walk our own path.

If asked, I will say to them, “How could I not emulate the one who saved me from myself? Who met me at my lowest point, in my darkest hour. He wasn’t waiting for me to show up at a scheduled time on Sunday, looking like I had it all together. He found me. Don’t ever underestimate the places He is willing to go to find those He loves. He is the Ultimate Rescuer.”

Today, this day that marks one of the most important moments in the life of a follower of Jesus, I will remember that He was beaten beyond recognition. I will acknowledge the crown of thorns that was pushed into His head. I will confess that I might as well have been the one holding the hammer that drove the nails into his hands and feet. It was my sin that held Him there, caused the Father to turn away and ensured He took His final breath as payment for my transgressions.

by Joy Cannis

It is I who put Him there and I am the one for whom He died.

Whatcha got in that U-Haul?

“Oh, don’t mind that, it’s just my spiritual baggage.”

I grew up going to church in a beautiful building with big white columns, ornate wooden benches, organ pipes floor to ceiling and a beautifully decorated soapbox called a podium where the minister in the long black robe stood.

I knew my catechism each week and would stand proudly in a handmade smocked dress as I recited them to the Sunday school class, annunciating the answers while smiling at the teacher. Manipulation at it’s best.

On Sunday evening, looking out the back window at that monstrous building, I would say, “See ya on Wednesday, God!”

I suppose I should mention that my dad was a preacher. Not the kind that has a church, but one that travels around speaking. Dad knew what was up and was more of a seeker than an organizer. What I mean by that is, there are those who seek Christ and there are those who organize religion. He is a seeker.

We would travel all summer to different conferences where he was speaking. Even as a very young child I can remember feeling a completely different presence in the auditoriums than what was felt in that big white building with the steeple on top.

I could not recite a catechism today if my life depended on it. Which begs the question, “Why did I spend all of that time learning Christian precepts instead of discovering who God really is? As anyone who has begun that pursuit knows, it takes a lifetime.

Well…because…I saw it as something else to check off my “see what a good christian I am?!” list. We “Christians” tend to do that. We put God on our “ways I get to heaven” to-do list along with things like, “Build up the courage to talk to that guy with all the tattoo’s. I could probably get bonus points for saving someone who has marked their body!” Or “Find a person who is living in a known sin and pretend to care long enough to ‘save’ them.”

Unfortunately many of us grew up with religious to-do lists, attending a church that was beautiful to look at, but left us starving spiritually.

What do we do with all of that? We put it in our “spiritual baggage” UHaul and take it with us into every relationship, every experience, every new perception of Jesus.

God doesn’t wait for me to show up on Sunday. He is wherever I am (and I have been in some pretty questionable places). I won’t find Jesus standing outside a building with a perfectly manicured lawn telling the homeless man, “We don’t need ‘your kind’ here.”

If you are like I was, hauling a bunch of misconceptions around everywhere you go, find the nearest cliff and throw it down, set it on fire, submerge it in the ocean, but don’t keep hauling it around. You don’t have to unpack it and sort through the reasons why. Just rid yourself of it and set out on your journey. You may be surprised who you meet along the way.