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

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.  

Remembering the lost.....

We walked in when Janessa’s mom was telling her story. She was at the laundry mat with her nine year old daughter. All of a sudden she heard fire crackers and asked her mom why? Janessa’s mom thought they were too, but a friend said they were gun shots. Then Janessa told her mom her stomach hurt. Her mom looked and saw what looked like a cigarette burn. Her friend realized it was a gun shot. She was rushed to the hospital. Her mom recalled the last things her daughter said to her and shared how amazing her little girl was.   Many tears were shed, many people were holding each other. On stage congressmen, police officers, pastors and faith based organizations stood to support the family. An innocent life taken, in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Then this mother, who had just lost her daughter to senseless violence, said in a loud voice…”I forgive the ones who were involved in this shooting.”

Tears streamed down my face. My resolve grew even stronger. Why do these kids do these things? Why do they think shooting at each other is going to solve anything?

It took me back to 2011. My mother was dying of cancer, Elijah was playing football at an underprivileged high school and we were barely surviving. I read on Facebook that a young African American boy was shot in the head during a Russian roulette game, from Edison high school. It grieved my heart, but I was so disconnected from it, the reality of this life did not scathe me. The next day, while I was at a football practice I met a young man, who played football with my son. He was a very nice looking man, with enchanting eyes and a strong sense of pride. I engaged him, asking about his life and why he wasn’t practicing. He shared that his friend had just been shot and killed and didn’t feel like practicing. I determined, through our conversation, that it was the young man I had read about on Facebook.

Something happened to me that day. It connected me to the boy who was shot. I was just one person away from it. My kids were going to school with the kids who were affected by it. I changed me. It gave me resolve to make a difference, to be a positive voice in the mind of the youth, were so much negative is spoken over them. I vowed on the deceased young man’s Facebook page to make his life matter. To make a difference in his community.

Three years later, my husband and I are all in. Coaching, Bible Study, FCA, camp, prayer, making dinners, encouraging words... I had a conversation with the same young man from that football practice in 2011, Isaac, before he graduated about a shirt he was wearing. It that had three young men on it and R.I.P. across the top. I inquired about the young men on the shirt and he told me that one was his cousin, one was his older brother and one was the young man he told me about earlier that was shot from Russian roulette.

“Why?” I asked him. “Why do young men get involved in this kind of activity?” He began to tell me their stories. Each one of them. What happened, how they were shot, who was responsible and when it happened? I listened carefully, trying to find the key to stopping the violence. I asked him again, “Why does this happen so often in West Fresno?” I asked him. His answer shocked me, troubles me to this day. “Because we have nothing to do. People get bored, so they hang out and smoke and drink and get involved in gangs to have something to do.”

My heart skipped a beat. His answer was so matter of fact. He was so certain that if there were things to do, less people would get involved in gangs. He continued to tell me that there are skateboard parks in North Fresno, but not here. There are lights on at night for basketball in North Fresno, but not here. There are movie theaters and shopping centers to go to and do stuff in North Fresno, but not here. Then he continued to articulate his belief that with those kind of things in their community there would be positive things to do, jobs to work and poverty would be less. His intelligence and well thought out response told me he had thought about this many times.

I told him that I was going to do whatever it takes to make a difference. I shared my passion for the community and how God gave me a love for the youth in this community. He smiled and said, “Thanks that means a lot to me.”

Isaac encouraged Bill and I to do what we are doing now. Two years in the making RAW has become a full time ministry for us. Reaching youth, showing them how much they are loved and valued is our goal. In doing so, we found that much of what Isaac said is true. However, the source of violence stems in a mindset that has been passed down from generation to generation that affects the way family life happens.

Many of the youth we encounter come from broken homes. There is no sense of family life that is healthy and safe. In reality, the simple truth in how to stop gang violence lies in a simple action…. LOVE.

Love covers a multitude of sins

Love never fails

Love gives hope

Love produces value

Love gives purpose

Love multiplies

Love invades

God is LOVE

The practical aspects of engaging young people to steer away from gangs, violence and drugs can be found in the “things to do” as Isaac said; but the life changing events that make a difference lie in relationships, rooted in love and lived out in truth.

Janessa’s mom sat down and many faith based organizations shared how they are doing their part to help Stop the Violence. I didn’t even stop to think about the thugs who shot her. Why would I? There senseless violence took and innocent life.

The next morning I woke up to a foggy day schedule. We all got to sleep in and I was thankful for some added sleep. My phone beeped and I looked to see what the notification was telling me. Someone pinned one of my Pinterest pins; someone liked my Instagram photo; 5 new emails; Full lives on Candy Crush; Facebook notifications; Instant Messenger. I clicked on the Instant Messenger to see who sent me a message. I opened it. A mom from Washington Union wrote:

“Did you hear about Isaac Sears? I am just sad by it all.”

My heart stopped.

“No, what happened?” I responded.

“He was arrested for 9 year old Janessa shooting death. Him and another gang rival. I will share the link…. Praying for all,” she wrote back.

“What?!?!? Are you sure? I thought he went to college!” I typed frantically.

As I waited for her to post the link, I frantically looked it up. I saw the story on ABC news, clicked it and read. It said Isaac Stafford and Brian Cooks were involved. Sigh of relief left my lips.

“It said Isaac Stafford…not Sears… thank goodness!!!” I wrote her back.

“It’s him. Didn’t you see the pic? I don’t know why a different name” was her quick response.

Her next message was a picture of the two young men involved.

I started to cry. It can’t be him… There is no way this kid is involved in this. He had such resolve and focus to go to college and play basketball and stay out this kind of life, since 3 of the people he loved were lost to it.

It was him. The young man who encouraged me to do what I do today. All of a sudden my mind wandered to the Stop the Violence rally. I was so angry and disgusted at the thugs who did this and gave them no other thought. But this “thug” was not a thug at all. In fact that would be the last word I would use to describe him. He was in no means a perfect kid. But generally kept his head down to do what needed to be done to play basketball in high school and college.

Another layer of love opened up in my heart.

The first layer was the night I was taking a kid home from Bible Study. Noah and I were in the front seats and 3 of the boys from Real Talk were in the back. We were all laughing and joking around, Lecrea playing in the background. I was following the directions of one of the boys to get to his house. As I turned the corner, there was a drug deal going down. The guys at the window saw my 1999 red Cadillac and jumped. The driver opened his door and pulled a gun on us. I put the car in reverse and punched it harder than I have ever driven before. My heart was beating out of my chest, “Ummm, is there another way to your house?” I asked the boy calmly.

We took another way and I dropped him off. I found out that one of the biggest drug dealers in the West Side had the exact car that we had, so it was a case of mistaken identity. I was thanking Jesus for protecting us, when all of a sudden my heart grieved. Instead of going through the what ifs in my head, as I usually do, I thought about the boy who lived in this neighborhood. I was devastated that he has to live this out every day. My heart changed. Instead of thinking about me, I thought about him.

I literally wondered if I could actually reach such a hard and dark place. I questioned our little Bible Study and pondered if we were making a difference at all. The fear I usually have, melted away into a puddle of love for these families and kids, who live in a community that suffers greatly.

I looked at Isaac’s picture, read all the stories that were posted about the event and just cried and prayed. I did not know what else to do. The Lord reminded me of a book I read by Jackie Pullinger, Chasing the Dragon. She went into the worst city in Hong Kong and dealt with the vilest gangs. Yet, her little Bible Club began to grow and change an entire city. It moved the hardest gangs to their knees in faith of Jesus and hundreds and thousands were set free from a life of drugs, gangs and human trafficking. I realized that is was no different here. Our little Bible Club was making a difference. Our prayers were effecting change. Our persistence to LOVE was changing lives.

And so we continue to fight the good fight. Praying for those who are the shooters, as well as though who have been shot. All need hope, all need love, all need forgiveness. I am so thankful for Janessa’s parents. In their forgiveness to Brian and Isaac, they have shown more love than most. They have partnered with us in showing love to those who many write off. Their love and forgiveness may be the very thing that brings them to the saving grace and hope that Jesus has to offer.

Today as I process the grief and the pain of a life gone too soon and young men, who will bear the burden of it. Today, we press on with the vision God has put in our heart, believing God is going to bring revival and hope.

If you would like to more about the vision God has put in our hearts and would like to support what we are doing to show the LOVE of Jesus, please:

- like us on Facebook  https://www.facebook.com/pages/RAW-Real-Authentic-Worship/1532870260290204

- email us at beukersbill@gmail.com

- leave a comment below

Beukers Family Year in Review