Sweet Charity Is In the 'Hood

 

Charity suffereth long, and is kind;

charity envieth not;

charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,

Doth not behave itself unseemly,

seeketh not her own,

is not easily provoked,

thinketh no evil

Rejoiceth not in iniquity,

but rejoiceth in the truth;

Beareth all things, believeth all things,

Hopeth all things, endureth all things.

Charity never faileth. . . .

                                    -- 1 Corinthians 13:4-8a

           

I was excited to leave the manicured lawns on the outskirts of the city and go deep into her heart, to an inner-city ministry that's doing some incredible things for the poorest of the poor.

 

Abide Ministries (see www.abidenetwork.org) helps all ages with all kinds of problems, and I wanted to see how my new charity, After School Treats, Inc., might be able to provide some much-needed funding as well as mentoring, tutoring and programming for children and youth.

 

As I traveled the more than 200 blocks, the coincidence struck me for what was on the radio: an interview with Bill Cosby, in town to give a comedy concert. He came to Omaha a few years ago, too, and kind of blasted us for being a city with one of the widest racial achievement gaps in K-12 education in the nation. I've loved his humor since the 1960s, and his classy but blunt criticism a few years ago was one of the reasons I started this charity to bring suburban-style enrichment activities to inner-city kids.

 

So that was fun! But then I got to the 'hood. And it was NOT fun to see what it was like.

 

Trash everywhere!

 

Boarded up houses!

 

Hard-packed dirt "lawns" and cracked concrete!

 

I'd seen a map of Omaha with a colored pin stuck everywhere that there had been a killing over the last 10 or 15 years. Most of the pins were clustered right around where I was driving.

 

Gulp! I kind of scooted down in the driver's seat, as low as I could get, and hoped that the people who did drive-by shootings weren't up at 9 a.m.

 

But then I toured Abide. It's located in an 1880s brick building that used to house horse-drawn firewagons. It has been lovingly restored with all kinds of "lucky" charitable contributions. In the gorgeous kitchen, the beautiful nearly-new wood cabinets were donated by a rich woman who was building a mansion and wanted even nicer ones; in the comfortable family room where all kinds of meetings are held, the cozy, honey-toned log siding came off a house remodel and would otherwise have gone into the dumpster. On and on the stories of "coincidental" help and donations went.

 

Can a person's soul smile? Mine did, that morning. I definitely felt the presence of the Lord in all the nice things that had happened as a result of this ministry, which has mobilized 17,000 volunteers for inner-city projects in 20 years.

 

I wondered if any of the mentors and tutors I would try to recruit would be afraid to come into that dangerous part of town. Over Abide's 20 years, they told me, they've had just one incident:

 

A volunteer had a carful of inner-city kids, and she had hopped out to put an infant car seat into the trunk. Just then, one of the girls inside the car, who has a mental-health problem, released the emergency brake. The car was pointed uphill; it quickly rolled down. Fortunately, it didn't strike the volunteer. Two children jumped out of the car as it rolled downhill, but were unhurt. A few car-lengths downhill from where it was parked, the car bashed into one of Abide's vans.

 

Everybody was OK, and everything was cool . . . except that the mothers of the two kids who had jumped out of the car saw the whole thing, and apparently thought the volunteer had put their children in jeopardy.

 

They ran up to the volunteer and started BEATING HER UP!

 

They pulled her around by her hair, bloodied her face, and got her on the ground pummeling her . . . until other witnesses got there to pull them off. The two women were obviously high, and irrational, cursing and making a spectacle of themselves.

 

The police were called. The volunteer was asked if she wanted to press charges for assault. With blood dripping down her face, she calmly said no.

 

Why not?

 

"We're trying to show these women and children who Jesus is," she said. "He wouldn't have them prosecuted. He would forgive them and show them grace."

 

Turns out she had had a stroke a while before this happened, and it had changed her entire outlook. It had caused her to turn toward helping others come what may, and to look at every single day as another incredible gift from God.

 

Turns out, too, that the two women who assaulted her had left in a huff, dragging their children away. But they were so intent on getting the free child care so that they could party that, 20 minutes later, those children were dropped off again, and the carload of adults laid scratch out of there. Of course, the kids had a great time. And of course, the volunteer who had been punched, kicked, bruised and bloodied was among those who cared for them at that event.

 

It's a saga for our time: to do what you can, bear hurts bravely, hope that what you're doing will make a difference, and believe in the One Who sent you, come what may.

 

So you know, as hard as it is to see our 401(k) accounts shrivel . . . and our nest eggs get scrambled . . . and illegal immigrants flagrantly breaking our laws . . . and how mad it may make us to see huge bonuses being paid to individuals out of our tax dollars . . . and to see the widespread, unfair wealth redistribution taking place with a nasty spirit of entitlement and class envy permeating the culture . . .

 

. . . let's stop and think about the kind of response that Jesus can use for His glory. That volunteer is a great model.

 

Yes, times are tough right now. It feels like we're getting slugged and pulled around by the hair. It's hard to stay mature and charitable through it all. It's hard to hang in there, keep doing the right things, and resist the urge to bruise and bloody whoever we think is causing us harm. It's hard to keep from blaming whoever comes into our path for our pain and hurt.

 

But if you can do that, in the end, you'll be a winner. And it doesn't matter one bit if you live in a mansion or in the worst shack in the 'hood.

 

Let's be like that volunteer, God love her.

 

Let's remember: charity never fails . . . and neither does the Lord. †