Extravagant Love

A couple weeks ago a friend of ours passed away. He is someone my husband and I have known since we first got married. He was in his 40s and died of cancer.

Over the years we met his mother, his ex-wife, and two of his brothers. Today, none of them are still living. He came from a background of extreme poverty, prostitution, drug addiction, homelessness, and petty crime. And in the middle of all that, he found Jesus. Got saved. Got baptized. Got into a church community.

We did life with him for a period of time and it was rough.

Some people have miraculous testimonies of how God freed them from addiction, turned their lives completely around, and they moved forward a completely different person.

Other people struggle their entire lives to overcome. Overcome addiction. Overcome abuse. Overcome the physical harm that comes with drugs and living a life of desperation.

When we were in the trenches with our friend, suffering some of those things you suffer when you are close to someone with an addiction, I remember crying out to God about the whole situation. “What are you doing God?” And he answered me very clearly. So clearly that I can still remember where I was, in my car, on the interstate, when he answered me. “I am showering him with extravagant love.”

Grace. Mercy. Compassion. Our thoughts are not God’s thoughts. How many times should I forgive my brother? Seven? No, seventy times seven.

How much does God love? When does he throw in the towel and say, Ok, you’ve screwed up one time too many, I’m done with you? He doesn’t. His love never fails. HIs love is extravagant, beyond measure.

Our friend passed away. He never hit that golden moment where society would say, ok, you’ve overcome completely so we will now call you worthy. His life was a struggle. But, he believed. No matter how small that faith looked, he believed. And he was loved by a God who gives generously, extravagantly. And I am pretty excited about the fact that he is now with Jesus and been completely healed and made whole. One day I will see him again and we will rejoice together at the extravagant, generous, abundant love of God.

While I was Walking in the Park…

This summer was very sedentary for me. So, as I approached the new school year starting up, I thought about what baby steps I could take to get myself moving again. I decided the easiest thing to do would be to drop the kids off at school in the mornings and then go straight to the park that is close to my home, walk a mile, and then go home. Quick, easy. Once walking a mile becomes easy, I can make the walk longer. And once long walks are no longer difficult I can start adding in more exercises. It’s a plan. 

School started last week for us, and the first day of school, I dropped off kids and headed to Dragon Park. That is not its official name, but on the playground it has a large plastic dragon/water serpent type head coming out of the ground that kids can climb on. The first time I took my kids to this park, about twenty years ago now, my kids immediately started calling it the Dragon Park, and the name stuck. 

The park is very pretty. It has a quarter mile walking trail that encircles a large playground with a pavilion, a rock garden, and a large grassy field that has a little squared off section with workout equipment in it. There’s a tree-lined road that runs right next to the park and on the other side of the road is a small baseball field complex and then at the end of the park is a large parking lot and then a community center and beyond that, a YMCA. 

One side of the park has a road running along it, and the other side of the park has a big thicket-like line of trees that hides the presence of a big creek. The creek collects all the runoff water from the city and is very polluted and there are signs warning people away, but the trees and brush effectively hide its presence. 

The first day I started walking I noticed the other people in the park. There was one other lady walking, the opposite direction of me, and we nodded and smiled as we passed each other. In the pavilion an older couple was sitting at one of the picnic tables. They had a couple duffel bags and other small bags surrounding them, and an older dog sitting with them. They looked like homeless people who had found a place to camp out for the day. 

In the rock garden there was a man sitting in a blue patio chair, the metal kind, that rocks. He had a radio on his lap and I could hear some distant voice giving the news for the day. He also had a bag with him and gave the appearance of someone sitting out on their back patio as they enjoyed their morning coffee. Except that he was rocking back and forth so quickly in his chair that all sense of peace was shattered. Probably another homeless person. 

As I passed the little exercise equipment square I saw a younger woman wearing only a bra and some pants. She was sitting on the edge of the square, knees bent, head in her hands. She did not look like she was doing well. I wondered if I should stop and ask if she needed help, but then realized she was holding a phone in her hand and was talking to someone on speakerphone. 

As I kept walking I watched the lady in the bra gather her things and go stand by the road. Waiting for something. I watched another man, no shirt, riding a bike, go up to the man in his patio chair to talk. They seemed to be friends. The older couple with the dog said a friendly hi to me as I passed by and we exchanged greetings. 

Every day that I went back to the park I saw pretty much the same thing. Man rocking in his patio chair. Older couple with their dog, just sitting, always with a friendly greeting. Man on the bike coming to talk to his friend. I didn’t see the lady in the bras any more, but I thought about her. An occasional person also walked the track. 

Then, on Thursday, things had shifted a bit. There was another woman standing at the edge of the rock garden. There was a water spout about waist high that looked like it was supposed to be reserved for Park Services workers. She had managed to turn it on a bit and was washing her legs in the stream. Not very efficiently. More like she was just standing under it, in a daze. The man in the patio chair obviously felt like his space in the rock garden had been invaded and he now had his patio chair under the pavilion. The older couple from the pavilion had set up a tent on one of the play structures and were sitting outside the tent door, on the play structure, looking like they were living their best camping life, dog tucked next to them. 

I made it around one lap and then saw three police cars pull into the parking lot. Six policemen got out and started walking purposefully towards the park. I paused. I’ve been in this neighbohood for a long time and have learned the police have no problem intiating dangerous activities while innocent bystanders are in the area. It’s up to the innocent bystanders to get themselves out of the way. So I paused. Should I leave? Or do I keep walking awkwardly and pretend like I’m not watching them arrest someone? I decided to stay a bit longer and see what happened. 

The policemen walked straight towards the woman under the water faucet and with very little fuss handcuffed her hands behind her back. She offered no resistance and didn’t even seem to be talking. I kept walking. From a distance I watched as they gathered her belongings up into a pile. They were all just standing there talking quietly amongst themselves. The woman also just stood there, hands cuffed, looking like she was not really present in her body. 

What really surprised me was the couple in the tent did not move. Even I know that you can’t set up a tent on a playground, but they seemed unphased by the presence of the police in the park and just continued to lounge outside their tent. 

I kept walking.

Then, as I was going into my last lap, I watched the police uncuff the woman and she slowly wandered away. I watched them go up to the couple in the tent and start lecturing them. The man in the blue patio chair continued to rock under the pavilion. I finished my last lap and headed to my car. 

My husband and I have had several friends experience homelessness and have tried to help them during those times. We have homeless shelters in our city. When we have suggested those to our friends they have had varied reasons for not wanting to go. Couples get separated. They can’t take their pets. They feel unsafe. Constraints on their actions that they don’t feel like complying with. Even if they chose to go to a shelter, it was just for nighttime. During the day they had to figure out where to go. 

I don’t know the answer to homelessness. For myself, I don’t mind homeless people in the park. But, I would have reservations about my young adult daughters exercising there alone. I would not feel comfortable bringing my little kids to play on playground equipment that has tents set up on it. During my twenty years of visiting this park, there has always been someone camped out at the picnic tables under the pavilion, but this is the first time that I have seen people treating the park as if it’s their home. 

I don’t have the answer and so I pray. I pray for hope for the man in the patio chair. For new vision for a future for the older couple. I pray for freedom from addictions and debilitating mental health issues. I pray for wisdom for our city leaders as they try to make our city a good place for all the people who live here. And I pray that I can see people as humans with stories and needs instead of lumping them into a faceless, nameless group called the Homeless.