chance meetings with the God who rules the universe
(this is the story my grandmother loved, hope you are blessed by it as well)
I'm in downtown Austin in my car waiting for the light to change, and I'm glancing up at the new City Hall, it's roof line jutting over my car. I see a bronzed wing, I see sleek powerful lines reminescent of angels. As I drive down Cesar Chavez and past the old power plant with it's Gotham city look, steel lightning bolts welded across glass brick windows. Wouldn't this make a cool house of worship? I really can't imagine this street without it.
Every place I pass - the Town Lake Animal Shelter, the Cedar Door bar, the YMCA, the pedestrian bridge - there is not a place that I don't love in my city. And I love looking at it with the eyes of Jesus and wondering where he would hang out. Would it be at the gazebo on Town Lake, looking for turtles among the lily pads with the children gathered there?
I'm having a conversation with Jaime downtown. He is smoking a cigar and reminds me of comedian Jon Lovitz as he taps his cigar to the side of us and smiles small while telling me these bags in front of him belong to another guy. We are outside of the ARCH, and on the sidewalk is an on-going sleep-over of souls that are giving up.
"There were some guys from some church here last week," he tells me. "They were coming through here and telling us how to live right. They were YELLING at us!"
"I'm sorry to hear that," I say.
"Yeah, well, I told them - go home Pharisees! We don't need you here. And they left. Yeah, you can tell people by the look in their eye."
"Yeah, Jesus isn't like that, is he?" I say. "Jesus came to love people, pray with them and heal them. That's what we want to do."
A giant of a guy named Mike approaches us, and asks to see my Bible. He asks if it's King James. It's New King James I tell him. He pages through until he finds Isaiah 50, saying his pastor explained it to him a long time ago. He's from Chicago. I tell him I grew up in Illlinois. He gently says he has such a hard time understanding why Jesus would do what he did.
I gave My back to those who struck Me,
And My cheeks to those who plucked out the beard;
I did not hide My face from shame and spitting.
Isaiah 50:6
Mike has a tattoo of vampire holes bleeding on his neck. His eyes are as hopeful as a puppy at the pound. He is hungry for Jesus and says he will be at Church Under the Bridge tomorrow. Jesus find him there.
Leaving the ARCH, a man who claims to be a Chippewa indian yells at me for the sins of my ancestors. He goes on for a while, then asks me if I'm married. I tell him I'm sorry for the hurt he's carrying. His eyes are wild, drugged. He doesn't want my prayers, but I pray for him silently as I walk away.
Mike's face is the face that stays with me an hour later as I have dinner with my family at Brick Oven. I'm having trouble swallowing and my eyes tear up as my son Ben tells me about the fun he had at a birthday party. I am looking at my family through the eyes of Jesus and I understand how completely undeserving I am of any of this.
"I don't want to go somewhere if I know that You're not there. 'Cause I know that me without you is a lie." I'm at a prayer meeting and this is the song we are singing. I want to find Jesus in this city and go where He goes.
A day later we worship with this song at Glad Tidings. "I don't want to walk that road, be a million miles from home. Cause my heart needs to be where you are."
The next morning my alarm goes off. "So come whatever, I'll stick with you. I'll walk You'll lead me, call my crazy or a fool." There is just no getting away from this song, from my God. It has me on my knees, asking Him to goldplate His heart to mine, so that His eyes will always by my eyes, His breath will always be my breath.
I'm in downtown Austin in my car waiting for the light to change, and I'm glancing up at the new City Hall, it's roof line jutting over my car. I see a bronzed wing, I see sleek powerful lines reminescent of angels. As I drive down Cesar Chavez and past the old power plant with it's Gotham city look, steel lightning bolts welded across glass brick windows. Wouldn't this make a cool house of worship? I really can't imagine this street without it.
Every place I pass - the Town Lake Animal Shelter, the Cedar Door bar, the YMCA, the pedestrian bridge - there is not a place that I don't love in my city. And I love looking at it with the eyes of Jesus and wondering where he would hang out. Would it be at the gazebo on Town Lake, looking for turtles among the lily pads with the children gathered there?
I'm having a conversation with Jaime downtown. He is smoking a cigar and reminds me of comedian Jon Lovitz as he taps his cigar to the side of us and smiles small while telling me these bags in front of him belong to another guy. We are outside of the ARCH, and on the sidewalk is an on-going sleep-over of souls that are giving up.
"There were some guys from some church here last week," he tells me. "They were coming through here and telling us how to live right. They were YELLING at us!"
"I'm sorry to hear that," I say.
"Yeah, well, I told them - go home Pharisees! We don't need you here. And they left. Yeah, you can tell people by the look in their eye."
"Yeah, Jesus isn't like that, is he?" I say. "Jesus came to love people, pray with them and heal them. That's what we want to do."
A giant of a guy named Mike approaches us, and asks to see my Bible. He asks if it's King James. It's New King James I tell him. He pages through until he finds Isaiah 50, saying his pastor explained it to him a long time ago. He's from Chicago. I tell him I grew up in Illlinois. He gently says he has such a hard time understanding why Jesus would do what he did.
I gave My back to those who struck Me,
And My cheeks to those who plucked out the beard;
I did not hide My face from shame and spitting.
Isaiah 50:6
Mike has a tattoo of vampire holes bleeding on his neck. His eyes are as hopeful as a puppy at the pound. He is hungry for Jesus and says he will be at Church Under the Bridge tomorrow. Jesus find him there.
Leaving the ARCH, a man who claims to be a Chippewa indian yells at me for the sins of my ancestors. He goes on for a while, then asks me if I'm married. I tell him I'm sorry for the hurt he's carrying. His eyes are wild, drugged. He doesn't want my prayers, but I pray for him silently as I walk away.
Mike's face is the face that stays with me an hour later as I have dinner with my family at Brick Oven. I'm having trouble swallowing and my eyes tear up as my son Ben tells me about the fun he had at a birthday party. I am looking at my family through the eyes of Jesus and I understand how completely undeserving I am of any of this.
"I don't want to go somewhere if I know that You're not there. 'Cause I know that me without you is a lie." I'm at a prayer meeting and this is the song we are singing. I want to find Jesus in this city and go where He goes.
A day later we worship with this song at Glad Tidings. "I don't want to walk that road, be a million miles from home. Cause my heart needs to be where you are."
The next morning my alarm goes off. "So come whatever, I'll stick with you. I'll walk You'll lead me, call my crazy or a fool." There is just no getting away from this song, from my God. It has me on my knees, asking Him to goldplate His heart to mine, so that His eyes will always by my eyes, His breath will always be my breath.