(Two years ago this month, I went on my first mission trip. Our Sisterhood team spent a week in Craigavon, assisting Celebration Church Northern Ireland.  I recorded our adventure as the official blogger for the team and the trip was indeed life-changing.  Recently I’ve been reflecting on my time there, and wanted to share some of our experience here, now that this space has been created).

June 19, 2014

Jesus is often referred to as our bridge to God.  In him, we can see hope.  He brings us the message that we can have a better life.

Today, we saw another bridge.  But its message is the same.

The area we are visiting is rather rural.  The countryside is abounding with luscious rolling  fields set against picturesque hills.  Winding two lane roads take you past the farmland and into the quaint Irish town.  The houses are cobblestone, the patios meticulous, and the people are friendly.

But like any other town, there is a dark side.  There is an area where  some would be reluctant to walk alone after dark.  The housing units are in a state of disrepair,  the crime rate is high and the morale is low.

It seems that the area was intended to be a flourishing community a few decades ago, and the infrastructure was in place for that vision to become reality.  There was the hope of  life, and a bright future was just ahead.

But then, life happened.

Some political issues…some deals fell through…and without much fanfare, the dream died, and along with it, hope for that bright future.  It was written off as a “failed” community.  And so the people thought of themselves that way, too.  It wasn’t  long before the darkness took over.

Fast forward to the present time, and today  it is still a depressed area housing third  generation  drug dealers and crime families.  The adults feel stuck and the kids do not even dare to dream of a future; they feel they have been forgotten .

Their despair is so obvious, you don’t even have to look for it.  But you can read about it.

It is a place known as The Bridge.  There is a walkway between housing units  and at one point, the road for car travel is overhead, creating a bridge.  Because youth tend to like to hang out, and because it is more often than not raining here, kids will gather under the bridge.  They hang out.  They drink.  They smoke.

And one night, one of those kids wrote his feelings on the concrete walls of the bridge.  His anger had bubbled below the surface too long, and it finally came out through a can of spray paint.  He defaced the wall that night.  And soon after, another someone followed, and then another, until the  majority of the surface was covered in hate-spewing graffiti.

But it started with one.  It always starts with one.

And so, the kids hung out night after night, sitting in a smoky haze, and surrounded by words of  worthlessness and condemnation.  Forgotten.

But God has not forgotten them.  When Celebration Church Northern Ireland was looking to do some community outreach,  He sent them here.  They knew that the kids hung out at this bridge, and they saw that it was littered with trash and debris.  So they cleaned it up.  Nothing earth shattering, they just picked up the trash.  Thirty-two bags of it.

It was dirty.  It was messy.  And it was noticed.  They talked to some kids while there and invited them to church.  They talked to more the next week.  And the next.  And eventually, one came.

It always starts with one.

After several months, a few of the kids were coming to youth services.  It was about that time that someone noticed a new message written on the wall.  For the first time however, the message was not hateful,or condemning.  It was uplifting.  Someone had written  encouragement on the wall. Amidst all the ugliness and vile messages, there was one that was positive.

It always starts with one.

Today, there are still kids hanging out under the bridge in a smoky haze.  But now, instead of being surrounded with words of  worthlessness and defeat, there are hundreds and hundreds  of messages telling them that were made for more.  That they are loved with an unconditional love.  That the past does not dictate the future.  That someone cares.  And that they are not forgotten.

A few years back we had a message series entitled “Grace Graffiti” at Celebration.  And that’s exactly what this was.  There was grace and mercy all over the walls of that bridge.  God is talking to those kids, and it is as clear as the writing on the wall; he loves them.

There were many tears shed by our team, as we walked under that overpass and saw the faded words of  hurt and pain covered by the graffiti of God’s grace.  It was so very powerful.

You should know that the young man who was  leading us on this tour, was one of the  ones that used to hang out in this very spot.  He showed us the apartment his dad still lives in, and said that his grandfather had lived here too,  and had been involved in the same illegal activities.  He told us that his future was on a straight path to the same lifestyle.  Until someone invited him to church. Just one person.

It always starts with one.

As he looked over in the direction of his dad’s house, he said, “This stops with me.”

This young man’s life has changed because someone reached out.  God wants to  get right in the middle of our mess, and take out the trash.  He wants to clean us up and write a new message on the slate of our heart.

Now when you  look at the walls  of concrete, you see hope.

Jesus is still The Bridge.

Invite someone to your church, to your small group, to your life.

It only takes one. Maybe for someone, you are that one.

(Two years ago this month, I went on my first mission trip. Our Sisterhood team spent a week in Craigavon, assisting Celebration Church Northern Ireland.  I recorded our adventure as the official blogger for the team and the trip was indeed life-changing.  Recently I’ve been reflecting on my time there, and wanted to share some of our experience here, now that this space has been created).

June 18, 2014

After four countries and 28 hours of travel, we have arrived!  The water is blue, the country is green, and we are tired,  But good tired.  Well, really more like exhausted. But a good exhausted.  We have traveled by plane, by bus, and by van.  We have spent hours sitting and waiting.  Yesterday (at least I think it was yesterday) we spent an 8 hr layover in the airport in Toronto, Canada.  The weather was such that we could not wander into the city, so we found ways to keep calm inside as the storm raged just outside.

We ate, we walked, we talked, and we bonded.  We played cards and read books.  We wrote in our journals and made phone calls home.  We gathered in a circle and did a devotional.  Eight hours stuck in an airport is not ideal; but we learned to be content.  Much of the time we spend on our walk with God is spent waiting, so we must learn to be content in the waiting period, for the waiting time is your prep time-–time that God prepares you for your next step.

There are twelve of us on the trip.  We all know each other, but each of us has a different level of connection with  the various women on the team.  There are some strong, deep bonds among us, as well as several surface friendships.  Our waiting time allowed us the opportunity to get to know each other better.  We bonded as a group, and as individuals.  We are stronger as a team, and we will need that strength as we walk through the next several days of this mission trip.

(We arrived in Dublin about 11:30 and drove 2 hours north, where we dropped our luggage at the team house and immediately boarded the van again, chauffeured by Ps. John who showed us around the beautiful countryside).

Pastor John also delighted us with a trip to the Peace Maze.  It is a massive maze of pathways and shrubbery and at its heart sits a peace bell.   The idea is to walk the maze and find your way to the bell of peace.  A group of 10 entered the maze first,  followed shortly by  Nilda and me, who had stopped to take some pictures.

As anyone who has walked one of these things knows, some paths we took ended in a wall of shrubbery, and others just circled us back to where we had already been.  We could hear other voices, but we could not see them.  After close to half an hour, Nilda and I managed to find the center, and could see where the bell had stood.  As we had circled to the center, the path we were on had risen in elevation, so that when we arrived at our destination, we stood high above the others.

There was a bridge overlooking the site and as we approached it, we could see the maze in its entirety. It was huge!  Much larger than either of us had thought while walking it.  It was simply amazing,  what we could see from this higher perspective.  Not only could we see the whole maze, we could see each and every twist and turn.  We could see which path led to success, and which was a dead end.   And…we could see our sisters, trying to make their way  through.  No longer were they a pack of 10, for at some point they had broken into pieces of the original group.  They were now walking two or three together, and a couple had gone off completely on their own.  They were scattered and lost, walking in circles of frustration and exhaustion.  But Nilda and I, perched at our elevated level, called out to those struggling to find their way.

From where I stood, I was able to see where I had taken a wrong turn, and say, “No, don’t go that way, it leads to a dead end.”  I could see their faces light up as they found a new path that looked so enticing.  But I knew it led to nowhere, for I could see the end.  One by one, our sisters found that bell, that peace, because Nilda and I did what sisters do–we reached out to those who were walking through the same wilderness we once had, and we showed them the way.

We are Sisterhood.