Level Ground

This weekend has been an emotional one, but it was one in which things that had happened in my past could be used to reach out to a hurting heart.

Drug addiction is ugly. Sharing life with teens who have been overcome by addiction is perhaps even more heartbreaking because as an outsider, I cannot ignore all the potential/promise that is being crushed.

Both days this weekend I spent some time visiting a young women in detox. Meth has had her on a string for four years now. She told me that every time she pushes against it, "it" pushes back harder. She's been fighting and is exhausted. There were very real moments during our visit that left me completely speechless. I refuse to give cliche advise/words of encouragement. It is condescending and sets progress two steps back. I prayed the whole drive into Vancouver- my goal was to sit and listen and let God do the talking.

I cannot count the times that the Spirit has come upon me and given me words to speak. Many times I feel like I am sitting to the side and listening to the words coming from my mouth. I remember talking to one of my girls as she was preparing to move out. With tears in her eyes, she told me that she had never come across a person like me before.

"When I speak, you just listen and even though you haven't been through what I have been through, you get it. I feel like you understand what I am saying and feeling. I used to always tell people who have never had addictions that they had no clue what I was going through... I never could use that line on you, and I don't know why. I don't get how you could understand, but it is obvious you do."

I am nt patting myself on the back. Like Kim, who commented on my previous post said, I am helpless. I am dealing with my own emotions. Never having touched drugs does not put me in a place to help girls with severe addictions. I was a straight A student in high school. All I did during my teen years was homework. How the heck does a person like me relate to a girl who is involved in a gang? Working the streets? Dealing drugs? Pimping out her "friends"? Constantly in and out of jail for assault?

I can't.

I know I am not equipped in any way to even begin to help these girls.

But God does. I am not here for any other reason but that God sees me as a person he can use to help these girls. He loves to run counter to logical thought. There is no doubt in me that any and every "success" belongs to him. My head doesn't get bigger each time I see a something take hold; instead, I am brought to my knees. My God is incredible! I get to bear witness to him reaching out to these hurting girls and give them exactly what they need!

Over a year ago I went to a seminar in East Vancouver at "Jacobs Well" that was aimed at caring for the marginalized. One of the images that really stuck with me was the need to approach all you do on "level ground." Our culture and human nature tends to dehumanize the needy. We come in on our high horses and expect that we'll make a big difference with "those needy little people." Joyce painted this image of "us" standing up on a pedestal handing down our charity to "them." She warned that in taking such an approach, you put yourself at risk for being used. It breaks a human spirit to be treated as "charity" and/or be pitied; moreover, in taking this approach, you'll miss out on being transformed by the experience.

Real relationships are two-way. It is cocky and condescending to approach any relationship as the "saviour." The people you deal with will shut down. They'll close their hearts and put out their hands.

A few years ago, I was in a very dark place. The depression was debilitating. I felt ashamed when Scotty would come home from work and I would still be in my pajamas. I didn't care about my future. Everything appeared grey. I just felt exhausted and really believed I would never see "colour" again.

On Saturday, in front of Starbucks and a complete stranger (the detox worker who could not let this young woman out of her sight), I burst into tears. She told me that she just didn't care about life anymore. This young woman didn't have a shred of hope in her eyes as she spoke so numbly about how she really felt. I sat an listened until she was silent for a long time.

Then I opened my mouth.

The spirit came upon me and I was reminded of that dark place I had been in. That dark place that made it exhausting to live. I stared her in the eyes, and through sobs told her that I knew exactly how she felt. I really had been there and it was hell. Pure hell.

It was the most eye contact she gave me during that visit. I had her attention. God was using my pain to speak to her heart. He was using my tears to show humility. He used my brokenness to make her feel understood.

I didn't come in on a white horse. I crawled right beside her.

I gained much healing from that experience. God has placed each and every one of these young women in my life. I have learned so much. I have been inspired by their strength. Their role in my life has transformed the person that I am, and continues to do so.

God helps me meet these girls where they are. I am not "all-together." I never will be (I don't know one person who is), but God fills the cracks, the gaping holes- and gets down on His hands and knees right there beside us.