DANCING IN COLOR

I am watching Dancing with Wolves and am amazed at the repetitive content of history. 

 Two different races, two different worlds, two different languages, cultures, way of thinking.

They were divided by FEAR.

Fear of the unknown.

Fear of different.

Fear of rejection.

Fear of losing one’s culture.

FEAR.

Today, it is no different.

We are faced with many different races in one country, trying to co-exist in a world that perpetuates HATE and FEAR.

My heart grieves at the notion that WE as a nation, a people have lost the FREEDOM to CELEBRATE and to LEARN the differences of other cultures.

I was told by someone, who is not my same race that I do not have a “right” to understand or learn about her culture. That celebrating and understanding that culture is somehow “racist.”

I was told that when I identify certain foods with a culture that I am “racial stereotyping.”

I am not learning a culture or celebrating the uniqueness of that culture… I am being “racist.”

There is so much FEAR in the hearts of people, that we, as a people, cannot even enjoy the diversity and beauty and rich color of humanity that God created for us to be a part of.

In all areas, both sides, no matter how people spin it, or how history records it… Murder, death and war is all because of FEAR…. And the side with the most power, money, man power, and weapons wins… It has nothing to do with a color or race or culture. Rather it has to do with power.

We adopted a young boy from Rwanda when I was 12. He was exactly my age. My parents gave monthly to Compassion, so that he could go to school. The supported him until he was 21. They continued to keep in contact with him, even after our time of support was up. There was a war: tribe against tribe, black skin against black skin; rapes, murders, death, horror. It had nothing to do with color, race or culture… they were from the same place. It had to do with power, fear, and anger.

Justin, as we called him, lost his dad and 8 of his 13 brothers and sisters. He survived. He saw death on a level, I hope I never know. It had nothing to do with the color of his skin, but rather the HATE of one group of people towards another, of the same race and place.

HATRED AND FEAR KILLED 1,000,000 PEOPLE

That is what happened in our country with the Native Americans. They were afraid of the "white people" and they were afraid of the "natives." In that fear, we coin terms and propaganda to fuel that fear, which then turns to anger. On both sides there was murder of the other, in order to protect a mindset that hindered growth, friendship and community.

The soldier was named “Dances with Wolves” and he wanted to learn about this other race and culture. He took a risk, he went into the “enemy’s camp.” The Native American they called “Kicking Bird” wanted to learn about this other race and culture. He too took a risk and went into the “enemy’s camp.” Both were able to learn and grow and establish a friendship of trust and honor.

They valued each other and learned each other’s cultures, and CELEBRATED it. They did not condemn or steer away from the other. In fact, Dances with Wolves left some of his culture behind to become a part of his new friend’s way of life. He partook in the difference, he learned a new way, and he celebrated and mourned the loss with them.  It was a beautiful dance of give and take and celebrating the VALUE of HUMANITY.

It was what he called...

Many different kinds of notes blending together to make a beautiful symphony of music, that delights EVERY soul, without any FEAR, just PEACE.

In the end, Dancing with Wolves, learned, understood, partook, celebrated, enjoyed and lived within the culture. He embraced a way of life, different than his own, in the face of much hatred towards the Native Americans, took a risk and became an advocate for them. Kicking Bird, also learned the ways of the white man and trusted him with his family.

They loved him, he loved them....even though they were different.

We are a people, who judge an entire group of people by a small minority of people filled with HATE and turn it into BONDAGE of FEAR and ANGER. 

There is no justice in hurting one group because another group was hurt. 

There is no healing in demonizing one group of people, because of the IGNORANCE and VIOLENCE of another.

There is no HOPE when division is celebrated and no one has freedom to take a RISK in friendship of someone unlike us. 

May we, a people, bound up in FEAR, which leads to prejudice, racism, hate and death… learn how to dance in the harmonic sounds of DIVERSITY and LOVE… in a nation that has NEVER really learned how to DANCE IN COLOR.

Andrew Chiappelli-a legacy of faith, love, truth and talent

Some people come into your life for just a short time, but leave an impression on your life that will leave a legacy for generations to come.

His name is Andrew Chiappelli.

My family met Andrew in 2007. He was a patron of our restaurant and we instantly connected with him. My children worked with us in the restaurant from time to time, and his love for children drew them into a blessed relationship of a man, who became family, a mentor, who always encouraged them in their faith and talents.

 My two boys were really rough and tumbling. Soccer, football, wrestling, trampoline, fort building type boys. Andrew was more of an artist, creative soul, who was full of mercy, peace and stillness. He gave my boys a gift of patiently waiting through the process for a creative masterpiece. They created everything from sculptures to paintings to planting things to decorating my house, including the boys, my daughter and me in the process. Yet, he would still go on the trampoline and jump with the kids, have water fights, build forts and tell these great adventure stories to them that delighted them.

Andrews’s relationship with my daughter was a sweet blessing. They had a special connection, as she is very artistic and creative. They would sing together and dance and do all kinds of fun projects together. He always encouraged her to pray and listen to God. He would do her hair and buy her cute outfits, even though, at the time, was struggling financially. His selfless love, still impacts my daughter today.

Andrew became a dear brother in Christ to my husband and I. Because he was single, he spent many nights at our house for dinner and board games, movies and walks and bike rides. He carved pumpkins with us, helped us decorate our Christmas tree, always helped me clean my house, as running a restaurant and home schooling three children always had me challenged in that department. He taught us about soaking in the LORD through worship and Andrew and our entire family would lie on the floor and “soak” in the words and songs and of God in stillness and peace.

When we were about to close our restaurant, he would work with us doing caterings and events to help us stay afloat and pay bills. Every time we gave him a paycheck, he would not cash it. When we closed the restaurant, he gave us an envelope with all the checks he didn’t cash, to help us pay others. He was there, praying with us and for us when we closed. Crying with us, helping us clean it out and sell the items to pay bills.

My husband became the general manager of Dai Bai Dang in Fresno, and we were able to start recovering from the hit of losing the restaurant. Andrew still spent time with us and ate dinner with us frequently. When that restaurant sold, my husband lost his job. We were about to lose everything we owned, but God gave us a ministry job in another city. We sold most of what we owned and then moved away in 2009.

We would call Andrew from time to time, but space and time got wider and wider. My husband got a General Manager job in Santa Barbara in 2010, so we moved even farther away from Fresno.

We moved to Easton in 2011, my mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, so my life became consumed with taking care of her. My grandmother passed away and so did my mom, by the end of that year. In 2012 and 2013, we were trying to re-establish our lives, struggling to find jobs and dealing with grief. We talked about Andrew frequently, wondering where he was, and how he was doing. I put up curtains and matching pillows he gave me in my new home in Easton and always thought about him and prayed for him. My kids missed him too. When they would jump on the trampoline or when they would quote funny things he said or did. “I gots the tegrity” was one of the funny things he said, about having integrity. He said it with a country voice and had us rolling in laughter.

I often looked him up on facebook to see if he had one, so we could reconnect. I found him and friended him but quickly realized he was not a facebooker. My son graduated in 2014 and we became urban missionaries. More years passed and we did not see Andrew.

In April, 2016, my daughter and I were in Fresno doing a fun mama and me day. On the way home I noticed I needed gas, so stopped in Easton to get some, before heading home. My daughter stayed in the car and I went into the building to pay for my gas. As I was walking back to the car, I saw a man pumping gas that looked a lot like Andrew. I thought, Oh my goodness, is that Andrew? I am a very outgoing person, so I had no fear in going up to some random man and tapping him on the shoulder to see if it was Andrew or not. If it wasn’t, I knew I would meet someone new. I walked closer to him and said, “Andrew?” The man turned around and said, “Oh my gosh, Teresa, how are you?”

With that, he, my daughter and I stood in the parking lot for over an hour talking and reconnecting. We told him that we were urban missionaries and invited him to come to our Bible Study, just across the street from the gas station, where we were standing. We told him that the boys would be so excited to see him and that he had to come over for dinner. He shared with us that he was helping to care for a couple in Easton, and that he was getting his master gardeners certificate. We reminisced and laughed and he marveled at how tall Carah was. She is 5’8” and was taller than him. Then he shared this amazing story with my daughter and I about his recent trip to Israel. This, I believe is so beautiful for all who loved Andrew to hear, as it is exactly what he now gets to be in permanently.

Andrew painted a beautiful picture of what he saw:

“The last time I was in Israel, I had the most beautiful encounter. I was visited by an angel every morning in my hotel room at 5am. The angel literally woke me up and told me to expect amazing things. The angel would have conversations with me about my desires and told me what to look for when I was there in Jerusalem.

The day that changed my life was the day we went on a tour to the place of Jacob’s ladder. We got up early and went into an armored vehicle to the spot. We had to travel through an area that is prone to violence and so not very many people take this tour. We drove for hours and slipped through the violent areas, without any issues. We finally came to a place that was in the middle of nowhere. In the distance you could see some mountains and sheep in the valley.

 There was this small stone building that was off to the side. It was very old, but still standing. Then there was this stone foundation in the shape of a circle. We all laid down with our heads on the rocks that lined the foundation. In the distance you could see where Jacob saw the ladder from heaven to earth. The tour guide told us to close our eyes and ask God for a supernatural encounter. So we all did. I am not sure what everyone else there experienced, but here is what happened to me.

I was instantly caught up in the spirit and I saw the angel that had been visiting me every day. He motioned me to follow him to Jacob’s ladder. I saw many angels coming and going up and down the ladder. It looked more like a stair case and on one side there were angels coming down and on the other side. I stated walking towards the ladder and got to the base. Instantly I was at the top of the ladder.

I was in the throne room. It was huge. There were thousands of angels and beings that surrounded the room. It was glorious. In the distance you could see this bright light. It was covered by clouds, but was so brilliant it drew you in. As I was looking at this light, I was instantly transported to the space right below this light. I was standing on a bright, clear sapphire floor. Right in front of me was a clear river. You could see the brilliant blue sapphire on the bottom. On the other side of the river were thousands of people worshipping God, right in front of the throne of God.

 As I was looking at the throne, I was instantly transported to the base of the throne. The throne was huge. I could see God sitting on the throne. His feet were this beautiful golden bronze color, the size of cars. His hands were resting on the throne and had great strength and gentleness in them. His face was the light I had saw earlier, but was covered with clouds. The sound of voices worshipping God was majestic and calm. I took it all in and felt peace and love like I have never known before. I was looking up at his face, covered and clouds and wished I could see His face.

 Instantly I was transported on His lap. I was a child again, and He was holding me close, with my head on his chest. I could hear his heartbeat. I could feel His breath on my head. He pulled me in and I was home. I wanted to stay there forever. I breathed in let out a deep breath, I was full of joy.

Once I breathed out, I was instantly taken back to my body, lying there on the stone foundation. I opened my eyes and tears streamed down my face. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay there in His presence. It was the most amazing experience of my life. I can’t wait to go there again.”

After he told Carah and I the story, we were mesmerized. We asked him to share his experience with our Bible Study group and he said he would. We exchanged numbers and became friends on facebook and began to plan times where we could be in each other’s lives again. It was beautiful and sweet and we were so delighted that God brought Andrew back into our lives again.

Then, I saw on facebook, that he had been killed in a crash. It seemed like a dream, like it was not real.The first thing I thought about was the vision he had just shared with us not too long before. I couldn’t help but smile. And even though my heart grieves that we only got to spend two years with Andrew and will not get to make more memories with him, that were long overdue, I am delighted to know that he is exactly where he wants to be.

I think of all the dreams Andrew had, that were never fulfilled on this earth; all the hopes he had for building a place for the lost and wayward, having capital to help people succeed, and so much more. I wonder if those dreams were really just shadows that were never meant to come to pass, but only to keep him moving forward on the path he was on for healing, growth, love, service, joy, a full life.

I am sure, if Andrew could attend his own funeral, he would talk about how he wasn’t able to see those dreams come to pass… but in reality, Andrew was a Dream Supporter. He supported so many people in their dreams. He sacrificed his own ambitions and dreams so many times to help other people’s dreams come to pass. In reality, he was a part of many dreams coming to pass.

My husband and sons were so sad to hear of his passing and that they did not get to see him. But his legacy and gift’s that he gave to my children and us are ever present and will now become a part of our own legacy.

We all have a different perspective of our Lord, because of the legacy he left with us. For that we will carry it on to everyone God puts into our lives, to bless, love, encourage and bestow a gift to. Until we see you again friend.

New Blog- Confessions of a Nobody- RAW Heart

I have a passion for sharing my heart for being a nobody in this world. I have begun to post a sub section of my RAW blog- titling them "Confessions of a Nobody," about my experiences in ministry that, I hope, will challenge others, who don't have a title or degree or ministry, to do ministry anyway... as a natural outpouring of just being a believer of Jesus Christ.

I decided to start a separate blog with that title, and continue to write in this blog as well. This blog, RAW- Real Authentic Worship, will be about my more personal struggles, successes and stories. Confessions of a nobody will be dedicated to experiences I have, partnering with the LORD in the crazy adventure of reaching and loving the lost.

If you want to follow my new blog.... here it is:

http://confessionsofanobodyraw.blogspot.com/

Confessions of Nobody #5-Church Insanity

Churches are requiring a bachelor’s or master’s degree in order to be considered for a position as a “pastor.” Really? So you are telling me that in order to minister to the flock you have to get education from a Bible College, by professors who are not pastors, to teach you how to run a broken, archaic, unbiblical system, that they have never run themselves.

Every day in America, the doors of a Christian church closes. Every day in America are sold into slavery. Every day in America, churches look like ghost towns, and only come alive when the pastor opens the doors for board approved activity. Really? So we determine when the Holy Spirit moves? Really? We determine the dates and hours when God is present? Really?

Every Sunday in America, thousands of churches open their doors to hear the same person talk about God, the same perspective, the same expression of worship, guilting people into coming, because if you don’t, somehow you are not living the Christian life. Every Sunday in America, less and less people gather in the buildings that says “church,” the lie we have believed for hundreds of years, that “church” is the building.

Really? Have you not even read the Bible? Really? Church is NOT a building. Really? Church is not on Sunday! It is every day, all the time, in the everyday places we go, in the ordinary things we do, with the extraordinary people we encounter. Really?

Every year hundreds of people graduate from Bible Colleges, with papers in their hands that gives them permission to be a minister or pastor. It is dipped in the false doctrine of narcissism that says you are who makes the church successful. Today the new trend of Bible College training is “church planting” to fill the void of all the churches that are closing. They are using the old, archaic, unbiblical system they were taught to plant new churches.

Really? Is this some kind of sick joke. Planting the same system of churches, but expecting different results? Isn’t that the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over, but expecting different results. Really? A piece of paper from other people, who say that you are educated enough, determines your ability to minister? Really? Didn’t Jesus grab the uneducated men to turn the world upside down? Didn’t Jesus say that “greater things we would do in His name?” His name. Not the name of the college, not the name of the professor, not our own name.

2 Corinthians 3-6

“Are we beginning to commend ourselves again? Or do we need, as some do, letters of recommendation to you or from you? You yourselves are our letter of recommendation, written on our hearts, to be known and read by all. And you show that you are a letter from Christ delivered by us, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone, but on tablets of the human hearts.”

So, we, 2000 years later, need letters of recommendation (degrees) by men on paper (tablets of stone). but the early disciples relied on the “Spirit of the Living God.” We are called to minister… PERIOD.  In our neighborhoods, communities, cities, states and even to the ends of the earth. We do not need a piece of paper that says we are able to minister. In fact, the Word of God says that we are made “strong” in our weakness, because it makes us rely on the Spirit of God.

My husband has been turned down for countless ministry “positions” simply because he does not have a piece of paper that says he was educated by men. Yet, we have letter from Christ, written on the hearts of every person, we have had the honor of ministering to. We have wisdom, beyond our years, as we have admitted our foolishness and allow God to make us wise. Churches hire young people right out of college, because they have a piece of paper that says they are wise. Really? How embarrassing for the church. How sad that we look like the world. How about use your discernment. Oh but most church leaders nowadays don’t even know what that word means. They rely on what they can see and touch. They follow the world’s pattern, instead of the pattern of God’s Word.

So, my husband and I, we continue to be a nobody. Undercover, secret agents of grace. Moving in and out of the shadows of the darkest places to bring light. We continue to be less so that He can be more. We are nothing without Christ. So in our journey as a nobody, people continue to see that Jesus is a somebody…. And that, after all is said and done is really our desire anyway.

John 3:30

I must decrease, so that He may increase.

Confessions of a Nobody #4 – Walking in the Hornet’s Nest

 There they were, holding signs that had a picture of a young man on a poster board, with words that read “CAR WASH for FUNERAL EXPENSES.” I drove past them, on my way to the thrift store to get some things for my daughter. In the car with me, were two young people who came to live with us, after some months of homelessness and drug issues.

“I think that car wash is for him, Mama T,” the young man in the back seat of my car said quietly. He was sitting next to his girlfriend and his eyes were fixed on the people on the street.

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked

“No, you can keep going,” he said.

His curly hair was getting long and his eyes began to water. The loss of yet another friend was a lot. Since he had come to live with us, he discovered that one of his brothers got locked up and the other one was on house arrest. Both under the age of 18. His girlfriend held his hand and did not say a word.

We arrived at the thrift store and got out. The couple lingered outside to smoke and my daughter and I went in to find some things for her Sadie’s Hawkins dance. When we were done, he asked me if he could go back to the car wash to see if anyone could give him and his girlfriend a ride to the candlelight vigil. So I drove back to the corner where everyone was.

When we parked the car, the group assumed that I was another customer, there to support the funeral, with a car wash. My car needed one, but I was not there for that purpose. The young man and I got out of the car, and my daughter and his girlfriend stayed inside.

There were close to 50 people there; all helping, grieving, remembering. As I walked closer to the group, all eyes watched me. The smell of marijuana was thick and the tattoos on their bodies, indicated they were from the Bulldog gang. Against the wall, one man, close to my age, tensed up to see what I was doing there. He glared with a fierce intensity as I walked up to the young man’s cousin. She had a joint in her hand and put it behind her back, so that I would not see it. She looked at me, confused, and then at the young man. The young man hugged her and she responded with, “This sucks man.”

He introduced me and I gave her a hug. Her stiff body would indicate that she did not expect my embrace; but I continued to engulf her in my Mama T way, until she relaxed. He introduced me to all the people who came around him. One by one, I hugged them and shared my condolences. Joints were being passed around and sadness hung in the air. My heart was broken for them, for the loss of a life so young.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I turned around to see a young man that looked familiar.

“Remember me?” he asked.

“You look familiar,” I said, “but I can’t place where I know you from.”

“I met you at the Hall. You were talking to me and my mom and dad. Your husband was breaking it down to my dad, remember?” he inquired.

“Oh yes, I do remember.” I said with a hug. He too knew the young man who had just passed away. One by one young people started to come around me, curious as to who I was. I clearly did not belong there, hugging and talking to this community of people. Yet, there I was: talking, embracing and encouraging them in their loss. Many of them knew Will, one of our Bible Study boys who was killed just two weeks earlier, so their sorrow was heavy. As the smoke and conversations rose in the air, the man who was standing by the wall began to soften. No longer did he stare me down with a fierceness. His posture changed, he leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed and began to talk to the people around him, eyes off me. I was told that he was the father of the young man, who had just passed. So his intense, silent inquiry was understandable to me.

There I was, me, a 41 year old, urban missionary, standing in the middle of Bulldogs from McKenzie Street. Loving them, hugging them, and being accepted by them. I looked at their faces: broken, sad, lost and angry; and had compassion for them. I had just walked into a hornets nest and was not stung. They were swarming around me, checking to see if I was a threat, to see if I had fear, to discover what my motive was. The love that was exuding out of me, from Jesus, was so powerful, that it was like smoke to a bee hive. It calmed them, and took away the threat. I did not look like them, I did not belong, but they saw Jesus in me, and although they may not be able to articulate what was happening, they were experiencing the love of Jesus.

 So many times, we, as Christians look at a situation with judgement and condemnation and miss an opportunity to be the hands and feet of Jesus. So many times, we are stricken with fear and cannot even get out of the building called “church” to bring Jesus to the dark places. So many times, we believe the lie that people who want Jesus, will just show up to church, because, you know, it is church. We live in a post-Christian nation. People are not going to show up to a building to find hope. So many people don’t even know who Jesus is. A lot of people see Christianity as an elitist, judgmental, controlling organization that has no room for sinners or the broken or the lost.

The young man, who lives with my family, continued talking to his cousin and then asked me if I could take him to his Grammie’s house, which was a few blocks away from the candlelight vigil. He wanted to pick up the letter his brother had sent him from the Hall. I drove into Bulldog territory, filled with joy that I was shining a light in a dark place. I gave him a sympathy card for his friend’s mom. He looked at it with bewilderment, as this gesture was a middle class occurrence that he was unaccustomed to.

“If you don’t want to give her the card, you don’t have to. But it’s what we do when someone we know dies.” I said.

“Oh, okay,” he understood. “No, I like it, I think she will too.”

He got out of the car, with his girlfriend and walked up to the door of his Grammie’s house. My daughter and I drove away. She looked at me and smiled. She too felt the joy of just being the light. Not preaching, not condemning, not expecting… Just loving, just giving, just being the hands and feet of Jesus.

If only more people with the light inside of them, walked in the dark; to give hope, to show love, to be present. They are looked at as the scum of the earth, a gang, this gang. But they are human beings with souls and hearts, who need Jesus. Open your heart to those you look down on. Give your hand to those, who you think are beneath you. Share the love of Jesus to those who do not know him.

You will find that LOVE is the most powerful weapon on earth. The LOVE of Jesus, shown to a broken world, is the ONLY thing that will change people, change our city, our state, our nation, our world. No amount of programs, laws, events, organizations will do that. You may think you are a NOBODY, that has nothing to offer this broken world… but if you know Jesus, if you have experienced his love in your own life… you are a somebody- who has the most powerful weapon on earth- AGAPE LOVE.

GO… go and change the world… by showing God’s love… start with one person, today. You will be amazed at how powerful your act of love is. It starts with one, then another, then another.

Matthew 11:19

Confessions of a Nobody #3 - Legacy of the ones taken too soon

His name is Marquis Sutton. I never met him. I never knew anything about him.

The sun was setting and the glow was dancing orange hues over the worn down stadium in Easton, Ca where my son was practicing football. I had come early to watch him practice with the new coach, and see how the team was doing.

To the left of me on the stadium stairs were a few of Elijah’s teammates sitting together, huddled close and talking quietly. One of the players put his hands in his face and another put his arm around him. I could sense the tension in the air, the sorrow, and continued to observe their actions. I scanned the field to see if I could make out the reason behind the sorrow, but could not pick up what was going on.

We had just started to settle into Easton. I was just started to get to know the players and the community. I knew these boys names, but don’t even think I had a conversation with them. I felt compelled to talk to them, as my mothering heart could not take the pain of these young people any longer.

“Is everything ok?” I asked intrusively.

The young man with his hands in his face, didn’t even look up at me. “I can’t believe he’s gone,” he said, “I just can’t believe it.” The other boys pulled in closer to the young man, as he began to cry.

“What happened?” I asked the friends standing near him, in the most compassionate tone I could acquire.

“Bruh, our boy was shot. They was playing Russian roulette or something. Like What The F@#k. Who does that?” There was a somber silence, then he continued, “That boy was gonna ball in the pros, man.” He shook his head in disappointment and then stopped talking.

“Is he from Washington Union?” I asked.

“Nah bruh, he from Edison.”

I did not know what to do. I had only heard of shootings on the news. The victims were just faces and names of an unfortunate situation, but had no bearing on my life. I had never been in a place where a shooting hit so close to home. I didn’t really know how to comfort them or what to say. I asked if I could pray for them, and they said yes. My prayer seemed feeble and ignorant, not able to grasp the pain they were overcome with.

I walked away and sat back down on the bleachers to wait for practice to end. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. It covered me like a shadow. I could not escape the reality. These boys, these young men knew this boy from Edison. They were friends, grew up together, had relationship with him. He was not just some name and face on the news. He was a part of their life.

Having homeschooled my children, and participating in home church, we kept our children close to home. Most of our friends homeschooled and home churched too. So this new life, of being in community with people who did not share my way of life, was perplexing.

When practice was over, we drove home and I asked Elijah if he had heard about the incident. He said that some of the players were crying and couldn’t practice, but didn’t really know what happened. When I got home, I searched the internet for a young football player who was shot from Edison, to see if I could get more information. I saw a news report and read it. My heart ached. It pained deep. The LORD was giving me a burden to pray for the families and friends of this young man. I had never experienced this kind of intercession before, to pray for people I did not know personally, but the calling was deep and personal. I prayed for hours and days for this family. My heart grieved for a young man, I never even met, for his family, whose names I did not know. This grief felt personal and real and my heart ached with a deep intensity.

I looked him up on facebook to see if I could get some more information. I saw pictures and read stories about this young man, wondering what he was like. I was blessed by the words that people were writing, a living memorial, solidifying his legacy in words and blessings. I was overcome with emotion and there I was, writing on his wall too… I dont know what I said, but I remember promising you that I would do my best to reach young people, so that more lives would not be lost.

Marquis, I have fulfilled that proclamation. Actually, both my husband and I have. After that, my husband started a Bible Study for young men, to find a safe place to go, to laugh, cry, eat, play and get to know Jesus, that only one who can deliver us from the pain of the world. It grew and grew, the Bible Study, and the ministry. We started a Friday night Open Gym, to give young people a positive, safe place to go and hang out. The Bible Study now includes young woman as well.

I wish we could do more.

I often speak about you, and how your death was the inspiration for what we do today. It changed our lives and the lives of so many young men. Your light was not snuffed out when you died, it grew brighter. It is in every young man we minister to, help, encourage and inspire.

This past Friday, two young people I knew personally were shot and killed, Kayla DeBorde and William Harris. I knew them, had relationship with them, loved them, laughed with them, mentored them, did life with them. They were taken from this earth for no good reason. I have been in such pain, personally and also for the families that are let behind. My heart aches in the deep reaches of my soul.

At the Candlelight prayer vigil, you came to mind again. You inspired the words that came out of my mouth. You were remembered at their prayer vigil too, as I encouraged and challenged others to not snuff out the light that was in these two beautiful people, but to carry it on, let it grow brighter, go farther and last longer in the legacy of our lives and those after us. That is what we did for you, Marquis, me and my husband. We carried your legacy with us, even to the young people and families that were grieving William and Kayla.

I think back to the young boys who were grieving you that day that found out you were gone. Now, I know that pain. I feel it today, as I write this. My heart feels broken from the senseless violence that stole the legacy these young people were supposed to live out. Yet, in this pain and sorrow. I will continue to let their light shine in me as well. I will shine their lights too, for all the people I encounter. I will remember them, as I remembered you.

 I never met you, Marquis, but you left an everlasting impact on my soul.  You, William and Kayla will continue to live on in the ministry we do, in the lives we encounter, in the stories we tell.

I look forward to meeting you in heaven and seeing my sweet friends William and Kayla too. 

Marquis Sutton

Kayla DeBorde

William Harris

Confessions of a Nobody #2- THE AMERICAN CHURCH

I heard a story once about a man who was walking along the shore of the ocean. He came across an entire beach, filled with starfish, who had been washed up.

I think about that story all the time, when I am overwhelmed to the point of tears, in this Nobody life. Only in my mind’s eye, it looks a little different:

I see Bill and me, hand in hand, walking along the beach. We come across these little starfish, washed up on the shore and IMMEDIATELY start picking them up and chucking them in the ocean. Only with every wave that hits the shore, more starfish get washed up. So we look at each other, take off our jackets, and start to scoop as many as we can in our jackets to get more than one back into the ocean. We are frantic and overwhelmed. I stop for a second to wipe the sweat from my brow and get a glimpse of what is behind me, on the beach.  

There was a resort, with lots of bling and glamor. Cabanas lined up near the building. Servers bringing drinks and food to the people lying in the sun, with their Coach Sunglasses and Nordstrom swimsuits. They each had recliners and umbrellas to shade them if the sun got to hot. They were all reading a book, although I could not make out what book it was. The wood plank path led to the resort so no one would burn their feet on the hot sun. Music was playing and people raised their hands up to the heavens.

Splash! A wave hit my feet and I came back to the task at hand. Bill yelled, “Did you see that up there?” “Yes!” I yelled back, and kept scooping up the Starfish in my jacket to throw as many into the ocean as I could. The sun set and left a majestic glow on the water. Diamonds danced on the surface as the waters began to calm. We were exhausted, but saw that NOW was the time, when we could get more Starfish into the ocean, because the calm waters were no longer throwing Starfish onto the shore.

My muscles aches and I was hungry. I wanted to run to the resort and ask for some water, but the urgency of getting the Starfish into the water was greater than my thirst. So we kept going, Bill and I. A man in uniform started walking up to us, as the Starfish were being hurled into the air, reflecting the moonlight and splashing into the safety zone of the ocean.

“You can’t be here,” he said sternly, “the resort is closed.”

Bill stopped, walked up to the man, looked at the resort, looked at the shoreline and said, “The resort does not own the shoreline, no one does. We can be here as long as we want.”

“Well that may be, but you our making our guests feel uncomfortable.” He replied.

“Uncomfortable?” I asked. “Are you kidding me, they are in total comfort, having everything handed to them on a silver platter. What could we possibly be doing to make them feel uncomfortable?”

“Well,” he said sheepishly, “You are working and helping those Starfish and it is making them feel, well, guilty, I guess, because they are trying to relax and enjoy themselves.”

“But these little ones are dying!” Bill said heartbroken.

“Well that is not our problem,” the man in uniform said irritated at our resolve.

“And their discomfort is not our problem either,” Bill said and picked up a Starfish and threw it into the water.

I laughed hysterically, and gathered more Starfish into my jacket and threw them into the water. Adrenaline filled our beings and food and water were no longer a necessity. The man in uniform threatened to have us removed and hurled insults at us for wanting to help these little Starfish. The more he said, the more resolve overwhelmed us. All night we worked, knowing soon the sun would rise and so would the waves that hurl the Starfish onto the shore.

The sun began to rise and I could see that we had made an evident dent in those Starfish stranded on the beach. A smile crept onto my face and my body ached with great tension. In the background I could hear faint voices begin to rise into the air. I turned to see the resort and people filing out of their rooms and onto the beach. One by one they positioned their Egyptian cotton towels on the lounges, and sat down to enjoy the view, that we were obstructing. Again they began to read the same book and servers came around and brought them food and drink while they sat there, fat and lazy.  Bill walked over to me and said, “Can you believe these people? They see that all these Starfish are about to die, they see us, by ourselves, trying to help, but they do nothing!”

“Oh, they do something,” I said. “They grumble and complain that we are making them feel uncomfortable. They are irritated that we are obstructing their view of the ocean. They indulge in all the comforts and won’t even lift a finger to help, but expect others to serve them.”

Before the last word came out of my mouth, music began to play, and just like the day before, all the people started to raise their hands to the heavens. Bill and I looked at each other and started laughing, “What the hell is this place?” Bill scanned the resort to try to make out the name. There, on the top of the resort in sparkly letters spelled out the name:

My heart sank, but… but… they are Christians… was my thought. I realized that the book they were all reading was the Bible, and the music was Praise and Worship. The servers were the pastors, feeding them on a silver platter and the resort was the building, American Christians call the “The Church.” The expensive, lavished lifestyle was neatly packaged in what “The American Church” calls Christianity. Not wanting to move outside of their comfort zone, frustrated with people who ask them to, and uncomfortable with people who do what the Bible says, right in front of them. Putting their time and money into a resort (the building) and expecting the paid parishioners to feed them on a platter, because that is their job, right?

Bill and I looked at the fat and lazy “American Church” and said, “IF ONLY!” If only they would help. If only they would get up and get their hands dirty. If only they would feel uncomfortable for Jesus. If only they would partake in the sufferings of Christ, so that just ONE life could be saved from eternal damnation. IF ONLY. If only the pastors would stop building their own kingdoms on earth and magnify God’s kingdom instead. If only the church would rise up and be who God created them to be in Romans 12, walking in their redemptive gifts and practice their spiritual gifts in 1 Corinthians 12. IF ONLY. If only we had the proper tools to scoop up all these Starfish. If only we had more people to help us. If only we had some support and encouragement. IF ONLY.

The waves started breaking on the shore and more Starfish began to be coughed up by the sea. We gave each other a high five, took a deep breath, and took the simple tools we had: a jacket, a willing heart, and our love for Jesus; and started at it again. IF ONLY half of these Starfish make it back into the safe zone of the ocean… that is still half that will live.

So we got to work, only this time there was a joy in our exhaustion, splashing in the water and a spring in our step. We do not have the title or fancy clothes or servants like those on the beach, we are just NOBODY’s trying to make a difference in the lives of other NOBODY’S, so that they will be will see themselves as a SOMEBODY.

Seeing In Color

In a world torn by racial tension and dissension, I stop to embrace the reality of the why. I was recently reprimanded for engaging a culture that was not my own and called a racist. It created a deep wound that I barely escaped from. I sought the counsel of a dear friend, who identifies herself as "black",to try to understand why I would be accused of such a violent offense.

I was raised in a multicultural community, where color of skin had no bearing on anything. The only thing that mattered to this community was our love for one another. I was engulfed in a Utopian way of life that was almost fictional, and had no comprehension that such a thing as racism existed. I was a part of a community that became my family, and is still my family today. Many different cultural and ethnic backgrounds, religious and non-religious families coming together to create this beautiful mosaic of life that created a solid foundation of truth, many fail to stand on. I saw the world in color, in a time when people still saw the world in BLACK AND WHITE.

In my most vulnerable time of brokenness, I was assaulted even more. I was told that I was IGNORANT because I did not see the world in BLACK AND WHITE. That we live in a yang and yang world and to see the world any other way is why the racial tension continues. I was shocked by the response. I thought that my dear friend saw the world in color as well, but after an hour of conversation, I realized that I was minority in how I viewed the world.

The definition of racism has nothing to do with color. In fact, the Jews, have suffered from racism for thousands of years. It had to do with their culture, belief, way of life and heritage and nothing to do with color.

The definition of racism is this:

-the belief that all members of each race possess characteristics or abilities specific to that race, especially so as to distinguish it as inferior or superior to another race or races.

True, in the United States, racism has been deemed as a black and white issue. True, that many African American people have suffered oppression, death, false accusation, discrimination and hatred. True, racism is real.

I am not ignorant to the reality of BLACK AND WHITE racism. In fact, it is one of my life long mission to see healing and reconciliation in the area of so much hate. However, the way I fight racism is not by perpetuating segregation. Continuing to separate people based on the color of skin, continuing to put people in categories and identifying people as BLACK AND WHITE, is complete and total racism. There can be no healing in separation. The reality of healing starts by acknowledging that this world is not separated in BLACK AND WHITE. Rather this world is in color.

It is like telling someone, who has been watching television in high definition, Technicolor, flat screen, 3D blue ray… that they are IGNORANT for watching television that way and should watch television from the 1950, BLACK AND WHITE, tube televisions. It just doesn’t make any sense. Why would I, who sees the world in color, want to regress and see the world in BLACK AND WHITE?

The fundamental truth lies in LOVE. God created each and every person with unique characteristics, spiritually, emotionally and physically. Each characteristic was hand designed by our God, for the purpose of glorifying Him and telling others about Jesus. To separate people out in color is demeaning the truth of God. To say that the world is driven by BLACK AND WHITE, is bondage. God does not judge a man by the color of their skin, and neither should we…

Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream, a vision to see a world where people walked and lived together in harmony, from ethnic and cultural backgrounds, to religious backgrounds, to skin color differences. His vision was inspired by the Holy Spirit and preached to a nation in racial turmoil. Today, 53 years later, our nation is still fixated on color and not character.

Today, as we celebrate a man, who suffered the highest price of assassination, to usher a nation into an era, where WE SEE IN COLOR… let’s not dishonor him by being stuck in the 1950’s where we still see in black and white. Let us be a people who honors God by seeing people the way God see’s people- which is by looking at their heart. Our flesh, and the color of our flesh will fade away, when we die. What remains is our spirit, our soul- that which makes up our character and unique individual person.

I experienced racism, when I was told that I do not have a right to celebrate a culture different than my own. That I do not have the right to understand or learn or be a part of a culture… just because I am WHITE. It devastated me. I didn’t know why at first, but it was because I experienced racism. The funny thing is, I am half Mexican. I took a piece of white printer paper and put it next to my arm… I am not white. My skin is not white, it is more of a caramel color. I put a black piece of paper next to one of the youth in our Bible Study, who has very dark skin… still his skin is not black, it was more of a dark chocolate color with warm hues of red. Trying to categorize people in black and white is IGNORANT. People are not only more than the color of their skin…the diversity and variation of color in people’s skin is so vast, that black and white should only EVER be used as the bookends of the variety of color that is in the 7 billion people that are on this earth.

I do not believe that being COLOR BLIND is beneficial. It strips the beauty of what God created in each of us. Rather I believe that God intended us to delight in the cornucopia of his creation, celebrating the differences of food, music, fashion, architecture, art, language, and culture. SEEING IN COLOR means you really do celebrate DIVERSITY and live every day in the beauty of it.  Diversity helps us to embrace someone different to us, to delight in their culture and to share a common attribute that binds us together as human beings…. LOVE.  

Our 2015 Grand Adventure

This year has been a GRAND ADVENTURE. A life that happens when you surrender to Jesus.

We hit 2015 running, having just moved into a new house. We had to leave our beloved Fruit house of 4 years, because the landlords wanted to sell. It was bitter sweet… on one hand, we were excited about the new adventure; on the other hand, we did not want to say goodbye to our home.

January started with what became our last trip to the Beukers Family Beach house of 60 years, for Noah’s 16^th Birthday. We made many memories that will last many generations. Back in Fresno, Carah acted in her first full length musical, “Legally Blonde” with her longtime friend Ethan Rij. Noah was finishing up his soccer season and Carah was in the middle of her club volleyball season and finishing up her school basketball season.

 

Our lives took an incredible turn when we met 3 other local missionaries. One missionary takes inner-city kids on tours to see colleges and we were given an incredible opportunity to take our kids and go to UC Berkeley. Another missionary family, lived in the heart of one of the most impoverished and violent parts of Fresno and we were grafted into their family and received great missionary training through Kairos and Perspectives. The last missionary, has really embraced and mentored us. He runs the Fresno School of Missions and fully empowers us to do God’s will. These experiences changed our perspective of ourselves and how we see the world.

In February, we started a youth outreach open gym night in Easton and close to 50 students would show up on Friday nights. We were on our 3^rd year of running RAW’s Real Talk Bible Study and many young men were coming to know Jesus. By the end of the month, one of those young men, Bubba, came to live with us. Another adventure that grew our family to look more like Jesus. We learned how to love in a situation that was hard and unfamiliar. We understood what AGAPE love means in a way we never did before.



By March, our family was in full swing with sports and school and church. Elijah was engulfed in his last college semester as a freshman. Noah was running track and playing baseball. Carah was in the midst of her Model and Talent training.. Bill finished coaching soccer and started coaching track at the Middle School Carah attends. We celebrated Easter with new friends, our godsons, some of our Bible Study kids and neighbor. A picture of the reason why we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ. 

 

By the time April hit, we had another unexpected guest come to live with us, Rob. Rob was one of the first young men to attend our Bible Study 3 years ago. He had some issues with his family and was kicked out of his house. We also had a short term guest, who was displaced when his family lost their home. So our family of 5 was now a family of 8. It was never quiet in my house. LOL. Our home became a safe haven for many and often we would have up to 10 people at our table for dinner. Many times, Bill and I would sit back and thank God for opportunity to create a lasting legacy in the lives of our children and others.

In May, Bubba went back home to live with his mom and our short term guest moved to his new house. Noah was on his way to Valley in track and Carah finished up her softball season. Elijah finished his first year in college and started training with the football coaches at Reedley College for the following year. Both Elijah and Noah went to prom with friends from Central High and had a blast!

June was busy. Noah ran in the Valley Championship, the only student from his high school, and got 11^th place. (He was running with a sprained ACL, so we were all pleased with the outcome). Carah graduated from 8^th grade and was valedictorian and won an award for highest achieving in math. Rob also graduated from high school and was blessed by many people with gifts, including senior portraits. We celebrated longtime friend Ryan Rij’s graduation and (another actress in the making) Gracie Morrow’s too. We headed to the Bay Area, were we were able to go to Bill’s lifelong friend, Kevin Baker’s wedding; after a weekend at Morrow Bay for a football tourney. We got to spend time with Bill’s family and godparents, and then headed up to Lake Tahoe for a family vacation. We had Elijah, Rob, Noah, Carah and Ethan. We stayed in a house with Bill’s sister and partner Rebecca and got the amazing privilege of meeting their soon to be adopted daughter Minnie. Another family reunion in Sacramento, and we were blessed to see Bill’s moms side of the family and back home to Fresno. Once back we had the privilege of baptizing 4 young men, who made a commitment to follow Jesus Christ.

 

July hosted lots of fun with 4^th of July memories, a trip to see Bon Qui Qui with Ninon and Ethan (a birthday gift), and Carah going to summer camp for the first time. Elijah turned 19, Bill turned 44 and I passed the 40 mark, at 41. Noah and Elijah were in full blown training for football and Rob was job hunting.

August was incredible. Carah attended her LA Agents Showcase and was an extra in the movie “Victory by Submission.” Our well went dry and we were without water for almost a month. School started with Carah starting high school; Noah a junior; Elijah a sophomore in college; and Rob decided to take a semester off to work. Carah started cheerleading, Noah and Elijah started football; and Bill and I started working with Cen Cal Mentoring, mentoring at risk youth at a continuation school. We were given an amazing opportunity to go to Haiti/Congo on a mission’s trip with our RAW group and will start fundraising in 2016.

September hosted football games every Friday and Saturday; Carah auditioning for movies, commercials and modeling, See You at the Pole, 2 weddings and Rob getting a job at the SPCA. Car troubles, both cars died on us… being blessed by a new car. The big event was Carah getting her braces off after 4 years!

 

 October was full-fledged. Bill was freshman head football coach, working for a landscaping company, Cen Cal Mentoring, our RAW ministry and doing strength and conditioning. Fresno Fair was a big part of our life this year, as our neighbor, who is FFA President had Carah and Noah working hard. Carah received an opportunity to win a car with her 4.0 status and Rob got his license. Noah went to the Sadie Hawkins Dance with our neighbor. Bill and Noah took some of our Real Talk Bible Study Boys to see the premiere of Woodlawn and meet the actors. We had to say goodbye to Rob, who decided to move to Kentucky to live with his brother.

 

 November was Carah’s 14^th birthday. WE saw some crazy phenomenon in the sky… some said rocket, others said meteor, others said alien… we just saw WOW!!! Carah and I volunteered at Winter Jam and got to meet some of the artists. We were startled by the news that Rob was attacked and almost died. He had a stab wound to his head, along with a fractured skull, a blood clot on his brain and wounds to his face. Bill’s sister gave up her air miles to get him home, where he would be safe and could heal. The startling news continued when I received a phone call that one of our close homeschool family friend’s 11 year old son had died. He was really close to Noah and the new shook us to the core. We celebrated Koltyn’s life and were thankful we were blessed to know him. We stayed home for Thanksgiving, since Noah’s football team made the playoffs. We got to go to the Bay Area and partake in the annual Thanksgiving weekend Stanford game with grandma and papa. We had only one car, as Elijah’s car broke down and we were given a car, which was such a gift for not only our family, but our ministry. I participated in the Old Town Clovis Flea Market for the second year in a row with Joanne Castillo (one of my adopted moms) and my good friend Rachel Morrow.

                                  

December was no different than the rest of the year… busy and adventurous. I was given a unique opportunity to help my friend decorate her house for the Annual Children’s Hospital Home tour. I got to go on the Home Tour with my surrogate mom, Joanne Castillo, and made awesome memories. Noah’s football team made it to the Valley Championship Game and we were so excited! After a very close game, we lost in the last 30 seconds of the game, when a ball was dropped on the 10 yard line, which would have won the game. It was very emotional, but we were so proud of all the young men for their character. Carah started on JV basketball. Rob was healing well and got a job at Big Potato Market, the local grocery store in our little country town. Noah and Carah went to Formal with their good friends, Ethan, Callie and Kameron. Noah got blessed and went to the Raider/Kansas City game with his good friend Marissa. Noah was awarded MVP, 1^st Team running back, 1^st Team lineman and Defensive Player of the Year. We all awaited the premiere of Star Wars, Episode 7, The Force Awakens. Our family is full on Star Wars geeks. We had a surprise Star Wars party for Carah and had a movie marathon to prepare us for #7. Elijah waited in line for 30 hours and was on the new about 4 times. We had a blast and the premiere was so exciting!!!

 

Now, as we close this amazing year of hope, renewal and adventure, our sights are set on the glorious journey that awaits us. We are so very THANKFUL for all the people who invested in our ministry with their time, gifts, and monthly support. One of our biggest supporters are Bill’s parents who make so much of this possible. They have given so much, so that we can, in turn, change people’s lives.

 If you would like to be part of this journey, there are many ways you can help:

1. We are taking a group of 20 students on a mission trip and will be doing fundraisers throughout the year. Please keep your eyes open for ways to support these young people to experience a life changing opportunity to serve others.
2.    You can also volunteer on Friday nights, by just coming and playing basketball, dodgeball, board games or any other ideas you may have to give the youth a safe place to go on Friday nights.
3. You can also volunteer on Wednesday nights by providing dinner, speaking to our youth, leading worship, or just come to build relationships and mentor.
4.  We also need help with transportation, getting students to and from events. We are saving for a 9 passenger van. If you would like to donate towards the purchase of the van, please let us know.

Thank you so much for partnering with us in life, prayer, support and ministry

The Beukers Family