your eye on austin
Tonight downtown Austin glows with a radiance and peace that seems otherworldly, and I'm believing it is. God is doing so, so much here and the wars in the heavenlies over Austin seem to require extra angels. Or maybe they just like hanging out here as much as the rest of us. But tonight I know they celebrate, having just won another battle.
My heart is so full for this city, so full of longing for Austin to be known as a city on a hill who loves it's Savior Jesus Christ. As much as I long for it, tonight regret washes over me as I think about my last "real" job in Austin, and how far I was from God. I was so secure that I was a saved Christian but much too self-centered to tell anyone about it. I didn't deny Him, but I didn't exactly proclaim Him as Lord either.
When I worked at K-EYE TV, my department - promotions and advertising - made the tv show "The Office" look comparatively sane. You could not have fit one more neurotic person in our office if you wanted to, myself included. My boss "Suzy" (not her real name) worked around the clock and slept in her office, obsessed with the ratings of "Touched by an Angel", and coming up with promotional contests that would stun the public into watching our channel.
I found a way to convince my boss that I needed to create an office space in the back of our offices so that I could get my work done without interruption. She wanted me up front to intercept those coming in from other offices, to give her a heads-up in case she was sleeping or something. But I won out and my cubicle became the private space where many confidances were shared, and some work got done. It also became the place for our anchors to hang out after I was gone for the day, but that's a whole other story.
I quickly became friends with the homosexual men in the station, as we loved to gossip and laugh and compare fashion notes. We loved creating drama and being sarcastic all day long. Not behavior I'm proud of, but I did geniunely care for these guys and didn't realize it at the time that God was preparing me, was giving me His heart.
There was one guy in particular who struggled with serious depression. He was a photographer, one who all the girls had crushes on and didn't want to accept the fact he was gay. He looked as though he belonged in a J. Crew catalog. I regret now that I didn't reach out to him with more than my casual concern. I can still see his face, telling me how he expected to not live very long, how it just went with the territory. So devoid of hope, he would stare at me and I would stare back, having not the words, not wanting to judge but wanting him to know I cared. A little. There were times he would burst into tears, leave work, and be gone for days.
I don't know what eventually happened to him, or any of my other guy friends. When I became pregnant with Syd I left the station and pretty much cut ties there. And in the transient world of television, no one stays in the same place very long. But I still see the faces of these guys, laying on the floor of my cubicle, telling me of their lives, and I wish so much I could go back in time. I wish I could have cried the tears I cry now, I wish I had believed in the power of the Holy Spirit, I wish I would have prayed for their freedom.
This weekend Steve and I were at Malaga, a little tapas place downtown in Austin. As I glance around, I watch the waitstaff, the diners around us. And God begins to move my heart. I silently ask God to use me in this crowd. More like beg Him. Use me among the witty, the gay, the affluent, the creative. Find a way Lord. I am jealous for them to know Jesus. I know at the end of a long night of partying, in the early morning hours these hearts will look in the mirror and see emptiness staring back. I know it all too well. There aren't enough shops in the 2nd Street district, enough bars on 6th street, enough rooftop views of the city to satisfy the cravings of the flesh.
These are hearts that are locked in a private hell that once in a while becomes public. These are the hearts that live in downtown Austin. And they are breaking the heart of Jesus. I pray with finality for those of us who call Austin home that it breaks your heart. I pray it stirs up such a discontent in you that you cannot keep it inside any longer. May your private heaven become public in the downtown streets of Austin.
I'll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness, the taste of ashes, the poison I've swallowed. I remember it all—oh, how well I remember— the feeling of hitting the bottom. But there's one other thing I remember, and remembering, I keep a grip on hope: God's loyal love couldn't have run out, his merciful love couldn't have dried up. They're created new every morning. How great your faithfulness! I'm sticking with God (I say it over and over). He's all I've got left.
Lamentations 3:19-24 (the Message)
Here's another way to put it: You're here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We're going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don't think I'm going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I'm putting you on a light stand. Now that I've put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you'll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.
Matthew 5:14-16 (the Message)
My heart is so full for this city, so full of longing for Austin to be known as a city on a hill who loves it's Savior Jesus Christ. As much as I long for it, tonight regret washes over me as I think about my last "real" job in Austin, and how far I was from God. I was so secure that I was a saved Christian but much too self-centered to tell anyone about it. I didn't deny Him, but I didn't exactly proclaim Him as Lord either.
When I worked at K-EYE TV, my department - promotions and advertising - made the tv show "The Office" look comparatively sane. You could not have fit one more neurotic person in our office if you wanted to, myself included. My boss "Suzy" (not her real name) worked around the clock and slept in her office, obsessed with the ratings of "Touched by an Angel", and coming up with promotional contests that would stun the public into watching our channel.
I found a way to convince my boss that I needed to create an office space in the back of our offices so that I could get my work done without interruption. She wanted me up front to intercept those coming in from other offices, to give her a heads-up in case she was sleeping or something. But I won out and my cubicle became the private space where many confidances were shared, and some work got done. It also became the place for our anchors to hang out after I was gone for the day, but that's a whole other story.
I quickly became friends with the homosexual men in the station, as we loved to gossip and laugh and compare fashion notes. We loved creating drama and being sarcastic all day long. Not behavior I'm proud of, but I did geniunely care for these guys and didn't realize it at the time that God was preparing me, was giving me His heart.
There was one guy in particular who struggled with serious depression. He was a photographer, one who all the girls had crushes on and didn't want to accept the fact he was gay. He looked as though he belonged in a J. Crew catalog. I regret now that I didn't reach out to him with more than my casual concern. I can still see his face, telling me how he expected to not live very long, how it just went with the territory. So devoid of hope, he would stare at me and I would stare back, having not the words, not wanting to judge but wanting him to know I cared. A little. There were times he would burst into tears, leave work, and be gone for days.
I don't know what eventually happened to him, or any of my other guy friends. When I became pregnant with Syd I left the station and pretty much cut ties there. And in the transient world of television, no one stays in the same place very long. But I still see the faces of these guys, laying on the floor of my cubicle, telling me of their lives, and I wish so much I could go back in time. I wish I could have cried the tears I cry now, I wish I had believed in the power of the Holy Spirit, I wish I would have prayed for their freedom.
This weekend Steve and I were at Malaga, a little tapas place downtown in Austin. As I glance around, I watch the waitstaff, the diners around us. And God begins to move my heart. I silently ask God to use me in this crowd. More like beg Him. Use me among the witty, the gay, the affluent, the creative. Find a way Lord. I am jealous for them to know Jesus. I know at the end of a long night of partying, in the early morning hours these hearts will look in the mirror and see emptiness staring back. I know it all too well. There aren't enough shops in the 2nd Street district, enough bars on 6th street, enough rooftop views of the city to satisfy the cravings of the flesh.
These are hearts that are locked in a private hell that once in a while becomes public. These are the hearts that live in downtown Austin. And they are breaking the heart of Jesus. I pray with finality for those of us who call Austin home that it breaks your heart. I pray it stirs up such a discontent in you that you cannot keep it inside any longer. May your private heaven become public in the downtown streets of Austin.
I'll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness, the taste of ashes, the poison I've swallowed. I remember it all—oh, how well I remember— the feeling of hitting the bottom. But there's one other thing I remember, and remembering, I keep a grip on hope: God's loyal love couldn't have run out, his merciful love couldn't have dried up. They're created new every morning. How great your faithfulness! I'm sticking with God (I say it over and over). He's all I've got left.
Lamentations 3:19-24 (the Message)
Here's another way to put it: You're here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We're going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don't think I'm going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I'm putting you on a light stand. Now that I've put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you'll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.
Matthew 5:14-16 (the Message)