The Habitation of Hope

Hope.  That is the word that stands on the mantle proclaiming to all who enter, "Hope dwells here."  This house was called House of Hope for many years before we came here.  It shone like a lighthouse beaming through the inky black of night, like a city lit, burning on a hill.  This is a place where God breathed hope and He keeps breathing, willing life to all the dead.  Nine months ago when Out of Darkness came to steward this house of Hope, our drop in center, we had no idea what this adventure held.  From our porch we see the women working on the corner, the homeless wander by, the addicted stumble up upon our stoop, all looking for that which satisfies and never runs dry, for the Hope that leads to Life forever and ever.  We meet around this feasting table, rich dark wood, laden with food for a lost wanderer.  We prepare a room with clothes to clothe the naked.  And then we go out and invite them in.

We go out to the alleys, the corners, the dark and hidden places and hand them an invitation.  Come and eat with us, come in and sit with us, find rest, find life.  For the sexually exploited women who enter our drop in center each week, this is a refuge, sometimes very momentary, but a refuge from the chaos, violence, pain, abuse, and darkness they dwell in.  When we came to inhabit this house there was a crack house across the street, and two more a few doors down.  The epidemic of addiction floods this neighborhood like a relentless tsunami coming wave after wave.  An epidemic that causes men to sell women for drugs and food and women to sell themselves for survival.  This is America.  This is my city.  This is the place where I dwell.

This place is where my heart lives.  Because here it has been broken.   It has been broken in beautiful ways.  It has been broken not just for the women of this neighborhood, but broken for the church of America.  For maybe we, the church are really the desperate ones, the starved, the blind, the ones who need to the clothed.   For maybe I have missed seeing Jesus all around me.  I haven't cried out for His riches, the riches of His presence because I have prided myself in my wealth.  I haven't cried out for His clothing of righteousness because I have prided myself in my own goodness.  I haven't cried out for salve to heal my blindness because I think that I see.  Maybe I am the epitome of complacency; overfed, and unconcerned.  Lukewarm, vomitous, yes I am.   Woe to me, for I am undone, here in this place I am undone.  What is most needed here, here is a turning.

A turning of the hearts of those of us who say we follow the laid-down lover of our souls, Jesus the King.  We are the ones in need; I am the one in need.   How can we go out and think we are running to the ones in need but what is needed most is for us, the church, to run to Jesus in repentance and faith.  To repent that we haven't loved Him like we say we do.  To repent that we have trusted in ourselves, in our riches, in our abilities.  To repent that we have sought the comforts of this world instead of the comfort of His arms.    To repent of the blindness of not seeing our great need of His forgiveness and righteousness.  Then and only then will revival come our our city, our nation, to our world.  This is where is begins.  It begins with me.  It begins with you.

I want to drink from the well that never runs dry.  I want salve for my eyes so that I can really see.  I want His robe of righteousness instead of my filthy rags of my good works.  I want the fullness of His presence, the true riches of the Kingdom.  I am thirsty.  I am hungry.  And The Spirit and the Bride say, "Come".  For all who who are thirsty, "Come".  "Let him who hears say, "Come!" Whoever is thirsty, let him come; and whoever wishes, let him take the free gift of the water of life." Revelation 22:19

A few weeks after we opened the drop in center on the south side there was a knock on the door.  It was a man.  I recognized him from our Friday night street outreaches as a person we thought was trafficking one of the girls we had talked to.  We went to the door and smiled warmly, " Hi, can I help you?"
"I heard that you feed people here and I am hungry.  Can you give me something to eat?"
We told him that only women are allowed in because this house is a safe place for them but that yes, we would bring him out some food.  We brought out steaming coffee, and warm food on that cold November day.  We told him to bring back the girl that we had seen him with so she could eat also.  She came back and ate.  And that was just the beginning of that relationship with both of them.  We prayed with them and for them many times.  They were homeless and living on an abandoned porch through the coldest part of winter, in sub zero temps.  The two young men who do ministry and live in our drop in center went down to their abandoned porch to tell him about Jesus and His love.  They asked him if he believed that Jesus loved him.  "Yes, because you Christians have shown us more love than our own families."

Jesus comes for all who are willing to come to Him.  For the pimp and the prostitute.  For the exploited and exploiter.  For the religious and heathen.  For me and for you.  For all who will cry out for Jesus and His grace.

All that I want, Jesus, is all that you are.  For where you are there is fullness of life.  I want to see the lost, the wanderer come in to your home, Jesus. I want to see you high and lifted up in this city, in this nation, in me.   Jesus is the Hope of the world for all who see and hear and come.

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