Choose Life

     Cleaning up the tossed popcorn after our "Passion of the Christ" movie night, I spot fourteen year old Josue coming up beside me to wash his Coca-Cola mug. He looks pensive.
     "Pretty amazing what God did for us, huh?" I knock on the door of his thoughts.
     He opens, "Yeah... I was crying. It made me think--a lot." Josue shakes his head as if in disbelief then utters simply and sincerely, "After all we've done, he still loves us."
     My heart warms--that's the Gospel.

     A week and a half later, I am reminded of this moment. A moment of stored treasure before the plundering. A moment that I hope Josue has stored up, too. He needs it.
     Last week Josue received news that one of his brothers was in the hospital--severely injured from a fight and in need of surgery. His long-lost mother came into town for the occasion. A mother who had abandoned her sons years ago to fend for themselves in a run down shack. A mother who Josue spent hours searching to find when we took a service day in his brother's pueblo to help fix up their home. A mother who--after everything she's done--Josue still dearly loves.
     Upon receiving news of his brother, deeply-feeling Josue jumped the Micah wall in a flurry of emotion, but quickly returned after letting the weight of that rash decision sink in. Understanding his impulsive nature, we welcomed him back with open arms alongside the strict reminder to "seguir adelante" (keep going!).
     As the days passed, the Lord provided me such sweet moments with my inwardly aching brother. For the past few weeks, I have been boxing-training with Josue and a few others to spend quality time in a way that targets their particular interests. I've had a blast, but I've often wanted to give up--it's hard! And yet, that's just what has kept me in it. Knowing how 'hard' Josue's battle with anxiety has been, I've stuck through the lessons to remind myself how my physical battle is just a small glimpse into his emotional and spiritual one--something I've talked to Josue about post-practice as I have encouraged him to battle his anxiety with various fighter verses. To battle his doubt with faith. This past week, on the bus ride to sports practice, Josue laid his head on my lap as I tousled his hair. Momma bear spirit rose up inside me as other kids teased and poked. I swatted away their hands like gnats and firmly commanded, "Let him rest." As Josue lay with eyes closed and heart heavy, my fingers kneaded and my prayers rose.
    Later that same evening, I noticed Josue carefully wiping down his case-protected flute which he always keeps safely stored in his locker...

     "May I?" I hold out my hand.
     Reluctantly, Josue places his prized possession into my palm.
     "What would happen if I gave this to Nico and Emmy [two of our onsite-toddlers]?" I ask, fingering his instrument.
     His eyes widen "No! They'd destroy it!."
     "Mmmhmm," I nod. "And why is that?"
     He shrugs.
     I fill in the blanks, "They don't know how much it's worth."
     Placing the flute back into his hands I add, "Without knowing what an instrument is for, it's just a hunk of wood. But it is created for much more than that... You are a very valuable instrument Josue--put your life in the hands of the One who made you--with the One who knows how much you're worth."

     Oh, Josue. Beautiful, compassionate, sweet Josue... Josue: the one who just ran away.

     As the boys drove to church Sunday morning, Josue had already plotted his escape. Revenge on his mind, he lept out of the bus once they'd reached downtown in order to pick a fight with a few of the lingering street kids. Josue left, planning not to return....
     Until he showed up at our door the next morning. Repentant, but distant. High from hard drugs he was unable to mask his sleeveless forearm, glistening with a newly added tattoo: his mother's name. A tattoo may not seem like much to you, but in Honduras a tattoo is wrought with meaning: gang life. Seeing my distant-eyed brother, I made him hug me and look me in the eye. "We love you," I said. Barely hearing or seeing, he shook his head... he doesn't believe me... Heart broken over our prodigal brother: what do we do?
     Leadership met as my roommates and I prayed. O Lord give us wisdom!
     After spending time with my own recently-reached-out prodigal bible study teen and her 3 month old baby, I walked into the Micah house as the leaders were informing the boys of what had just happened with Josue.  They announced that they'd made the decision to send Josue to a 3-month rehabilitation center for his addictions before he can re-enter Micah. A wise decision but one that is wrought with pain--so many of our brothers have dropped out of rehab and returned to their life on the streets.  Our Honduran father-like figure Roger reminded the boys that these decisions are a matter of life and death. We need to support our brother. We need to pray. So we did. Josue cried, we hugged, we encouraged, we loved.
    And then, we packed. I sat in his room as he folded up his clothes.  Gifting him with a Bible, paper, and my colored pencils, I offered him the only thing that has ever kept me fighting: the Word of God. And then, he left....
     But not from our thoughts and prayers. Last night Lucy and I realized that a few of our missing belongings--her cell phone and $200 from my tin can--were most likely in his hands. Someone having broken into our cabin on Sunday--we figured out that our items were probably his pre-meditated fuel for the tattoo and drug purchase. Rather than mourn the fleeting things of this world, we mourned our forever brother. If it was him, he never confessed that he'd stolen from us, because 'how could we love him after all he'd done to us'? Oh, brother, please believe us... We do. How? We love because he first loved us.
     Remember, Josue: "After all we've done, he still loves us."
     That's the Gospel.

***Pray for Josue... This is a matter of life and death. Pray that he chooses life. That he lets himself be loved.