Four years ago, my friend Gemma Torres told me about a remarkable woman who has a ministry to one of the most vulnerable segments of society — mentally challenged homeless adults. The more I learned the more interested I became in meeting this woman named Mary Lee. So, I called Mary and she invited me to visit her at “Something Blessed,” the name of her boarding home located on the south side of Houston. With directions in hand, I made the forty-mile journey from suburban Katy to Something Blessed.
Mary was standing outside when I arrived and greeted me with a handshake and a hug. Less than a minute later, an older man walked out of the dining room holding up his pants. As he walked toward us it became apparent that he had just soiled his pants. Behind him was a trail of diarrhea. As he approached he said, “Ms. Mary, I messed my pants. What should I do?” Mary slowly and deliberately explained to him that he should bathe and then change his clothes. “But, my pants are dirty,” he replied. Mary then patiently explained that he should put on a clean pair of pants after his bath. I was immediately impressed with Mary and remember thinking that you have to be called to do the kind of work that she does.
Over the past four years, I have mobilized hundreds of volunteers to assist Mary. These volunteers have helped to update the facilities at Something Blessed and help deliver food throughout the year. And, anyone who has ever served at Something Blessed has come away with the same favorable impression of Mary. A couple of years ago I took my Mom and Dad to meet Mary. Mom and Mary instantly hit it off. They talked like two old friends. After returning home, Mom started sending clothes and charged me with the responsibility of taking them to Mary Lee. Mom always asked about Mary and the folks under her care and prayed for her regularly.
Earlier this year Mary was diagnosed with cancer. A few weeks later my Mom was diagnosed with cancer. Both Mary and Mom were deeply concerned for one another. My Mom passed away very shortly after her diagnosis. Mary is still battling cancer. This week my Dad and I took a truck-load of groceries to Something Blessed along with a donation from Kingsland’s missions ministry. Although weak from her fourth round of chemo-therapy, Mary continues to serve those in need. She has lost sight in her left eye because of the cancer and is still fed through a tube in her stomach yet continues to care for others every day. She has a remarkable attitude and says that every day of life is a precious opportunity to serve the Lord by serving others.
Thanksgiving is going to be tough for my family this year — our first holiday without Mom. But, we are going to celebrate the day by giving thanks to God for our precious Mom and for all she did to orient us toward loving God and serving others. And, I am personally going to also give thanks for Mary Lee, another precious woman who continues to love and serve God in spite of her cancer. My Mom never once complained nor cried foul because of her cancer. And, I have never heard Mary Lee complain. These two precious ladies remind me of how blessed I am and that I should make the most of every day and every opportunity to be a blessing to others.
I hope you will give thanks to God for the many ways in which He demonstrates His kindness to you. Don’t overlook even the smallest thing, like waking up to a new day of life. And, determine that you will do more than hold your hand out waiting for God to bless you. Go out and be a blessing to someone in need. Be the reason why someone else gives thanks to God.
Although the writer of this psalm is not named, some believe it was written by King David. If so, David probably wrote it during the period of Absalom’s rebellion — a difficult period when he endured the oppression of his enemies and rumors that God had forsaken him (see Ps. 42:3, and 10) and that there was no deliverance for him in God (see Ps. 3:1-2). This psalm depicts the struggles that many people experience in the midst of adversity — vacillating between doubt and faith, despair and hope, pessimism and optimism, looking at circumstances and looking to God.
Thomas Clarkson was a disturbed man — a man so bothered and horrified by slavery that he felt compelled to do something about it. Born in England in 1760, Clarkson was a contemporary of William Wilberforce, the British politician who was a key leader in the movement to abolish the slave trade. While attending Cambridge University, Clarkson entered an essay competition. The question, to be answered in Latin by the contestants, was “Anne liceat invitos in servitutem dare? — “Is it lawful to make slaves of others against their will?” Clarkson knew nothing about slavery but determined to research the subject thoroughly. He did so and wrote the prize-winning essay.
Clarkson worked tirelessly to collect information to support the abolition of the slave trade. He spent two years traveling around England to promote abolition and gather evidence of abuses of slaves. He interviewed 20,000 sailors and obtained equipment used on slave ships and effectively used these barbaric items as visual aids in his lectures around the country. He also published a diagram of a Liverpool slave ship that illustrated how slaves were tightly crammed into its fetid hold for transport across the Middle Passage. On one occasion Clarkson survived an assassination attempt by a gang of sailors, barely escaping with his life. Undeterred, Clarkson continued to gather evidence to build a case against the slave trade. He made his research available to William Wilberforce who used it in his efforts to persuade Parliament to abolish the slave trade.
121:1 I will lift up my eyes to the mountains; from whence shall my help come?
Doyle | To be completely honest, prior to arriving at these homes I had some reservations and questioned if I could handle some of the obvious hygiene issues. Upon arriving and seeing the gratitude in the faces of these men who would soon experience death, all of my worries and phobias disappeared. At Kalighat (home for the dying), I sat on the edge of the bed of a man that looked like a holocaust victim. Tears began to stream down his hollowed face as I massaged his arms and legs. At first he was very tense but soon began to relax. He could not speak but his face communicated clearly his gratitude. The most sobering and challenging thing for me was the realization that this man likely did not know Jesus — that in just a matter of hours or days he would slip into eternity. I felt helpless and sad to know that most of these men would likely go into eternity without the knowledge that I had of a loving God who has prepared a place for me in heaven. This experience has marked me. I have a renewed sense of urgency to share the good news of Jesus with others. An experience like this will put life in perspective. I have no problems compared to the plight of these men.
Once we settled in, we traveled with the director of our school the short distance to the land we recently purchased. It’s a beautiful piece of property surrounded by green hills and is adjacent to a gently flowing stream. Nearby are two old schools established by early missionaries to the area — a short walk for our boys. While there, we looked at our building plans and discussed the placement of our dormitory, kitchen, toilets, and sports field. It’s exciting to think about what God will do on this piece of property in the coming year. In Orissa, this hectare of land is indeed like a table prepared for our boys in the presence of their enemies – those committed to driving Christianity out of Orissa.
With a rainbow overhead, we used a pick-ax to break ground. Breaking ground is all about the coming of something new. Just as a farmer must turn the ground before planting, we turned the ground in anticipation of a wonderful harvest for God’s kingdom. Our boys’ boarding school is committed to equipping the next generation of believers who will in turn break new ground and sow the seeds of God’s love in one of the most hostile places on the planet for Christians. Long after we are gone, our boys will grow to become godly men who will love God, love people, and equip their own children to do the same. That’s groundbreaking news worth celebrating.
You can’t avoid them as you navigate through Kolkata’s sea of traffic. They are everywhere. And, the moment you stop to tread water they will surround you like a pack of land sharks. They are Kolkata’s street kids. They are scantily clad, covered in filth, and have no fear. They dart in and out of traffic and surface at the windows of slow-moving and stopped vehicles. They will tap on your window and motion to you to give them something because they are hungry. And, they are young. Most are preschool-aged kids, in some cases carrying naked babies on their hips.
Go Beyond 