..."to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think"

Well, last night I had the privilege of briefly speaking with a woman that I deeply respect and admire. Joni Eareckson Tada and her husband Ken. A dear friend invited us to attend a benefit dinner celebrating 20 years of the "Joni & Friends Arizona" disability ministry center. One of the highlights for me, besides meeting her, came at the end of Joni's talk where she led us in singing a hymn a cappella. I thought, is there anything more precious than this here on earth? Singing in an intimate room like this, to our Savior, with my friends and Joni. A sweet foretaste of heaven, when we'll be with those real time "cloud of witnesses" of which in my book, Joni is a living one.

Of course I couldn't help mentioning my son and the issue I want to advocate for: serious mental illness. You can see by Joni's face in this photo how compassionate and empathetic she was. God's grace in her life and ministry is remarkable and I left so inspired and spurred on to pursue God's glory in all I do.

Let's just say, wow, she has set the mark high.

I have to mention something that happened before the dinner as well. My husband and I arrived at the Hyatt Regency in Phoenix a little early. Since we had some time to kill my husband decided to take me on a little sight seeing tour. We were just down the street from the Capitol and we drove several streets over to a homeless shelter. Now, I don't recommend anyone doing this unless they have a husband like mine and all of your doors are locked...

What we saw next simply rocked my world and there are hardly the words to describe...the homeless shelter had closed its doors for the night and as we drove right next to it, the streets were lined with homeless people on both sides. They were apparently getting ready to bunker down for the evening.

I gasped. So many? And many mentally ill? Many. I did see a gentleman that looked just like an every day business man among the crowd as I quickly scanned. Oh Lord!

He took me down a few side streets and pointed out the other homeless groups sleeping under the bridges, yet there were men and women scattered here and there on the fringes. As we drove by a large driveway with a garage like door, an African American man stood up and smiled a big smile at me. My heart felt like it skipped a beat at least, his big goofy smile reminded me of my own son. My heart!

Before you think that my husband is a big, cruel meanie for taking me down there, let me tell you something about him. He does these kinds of things on purpose. He knows I'll keep going, he knows I feel weak. But he spurs me on to press into God and to keep talking with anyone who will listen, writing down and recording, rubbing elbows with politicians, reading and learning. Because he has a big old father's heart for our own son, and others like him.

And he knows like I do, that we have to keep going. If we don't do it, who will? That's what he always tells me.

So in my weakness, I will keep pursuing God's direction and questioning this passion I can't shake. Because these suffering, afflicted, least of these men and women are precious to Him and He is a fierce defender of the weak. And because I know that they are not beyond hope. The God who sent His son to die, was raised from the dead, He has not forgotten them. They are not unreachable church.

Our work has only just begun.

“As my sufferings mounted I soon realized that there were two ways in which I could respond to my situation -- either to react with bitterness or seek to transform the suffering into a creative force. I decided to follow the latter course.”
― Martin Luther King Jr.