On this,
the hour I was born 25 years ago,
my heart breaks for the people on the streets.
My friends who spend their days at the library,
the park, the hospitals, ‘Sisters’ and other soup kitchens across Chicago,
and street corners where they weave in and our of the
cars so they can make some money for some food or a cigarette.
My heart breaks for my friend who though only 20 years old,
must sleep on the street this week because he lost his bed at the nearby
shelter,
all because he and a staff member exchanged some heated words on his
way out from our prayer group.
No 20 year old deserves to sleep on the street;
it wasn’t his fault he is paralyzed on half his body and
kicked out of the house by his mom when she chose her
boyfriend over her son.
And because of my friend who, though he has a place to stay during the week,
must fend for himself on the weekends,
often walking the city for 30 hours straight without getting sleep,
lest he, only 17, find a shelter that will take in a minor.
I want to have hope tonight, as I lay down my head before waking to go to church tomorrow.
The only hope I have found is a God who loved the world enough to send His only Son
to our streets as a homeless wanderer;
and a church that understands its mission of the whole gospel,
and hears the words from James 1:27 that says,
“Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.”
Praise God that He not only loves us, but also those on the streets tonight. ‘Lord, use my next 25 years for your purposes and your kingdom; to look after the widows and the orphans in their distress and keep myself from being polluted by the world! Come, Lord Jesus, Come.’
the hour I was born 25 years ago,
my heart breaks for the people on the streets.
My friends who spend their days at the library,
the park, the hospitals, ‘Sisters’ and other soup kitchens across Chicago,
and street corners where they weave in and our of the
cars so they can make some money for some food or a cigarette.
My heart breaks for my friend who though only 20 years old,
must sleep on the street this week because he lost his bed at the nearby
shelter,
all because he and a staff member exchanged some heated words on his
way out from our prayer group.
No 20 year old deserves to sleep on the street;
it wasn’t his fault he is paralyzed on half his body and
kicked out of the house by his mom when she chose her
boyfriend over her son.
And because of my friend who, though he has a place to stay during the week,
must fend for himself on the weekends,
often walking the city for 30 hours straight without getting sleep,
lest he, only 17, find a shelter that will take in a minor.
I want to have hope tonight, as I lay down my head before waking to go to church tomorrow.
The only hope I have found is a God who loved the world enough to send His only Son
to our streets as a homeless wanderer;
and a church that understands its mission of the whole gospel,
and hears the words from James 1:27 that says,
“Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.”
Praise God that He not only loves us, but also those on the streets tonight. ‘Lord, use my next 25 years for your purposes and your kingdom; to look after the widows and the orphans in their distress and keep myself from being polluted by the world! Come, Lord Jesus, Come.’
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