May 2007 Update
For this month's update, rather than updating you on events, I want to share some of what God has been doing in my heart and what I believe He's doing in my neighborhood. The article below is also posted on my blog.
A couple of Tuesdays ago my friend Victoria and I went out in our neighborhood. We've been going to a specific corner a couple times a month and have just barely started to get to know the people who are there at night, but since it was a holiday weekend (yes, in Spain sometimes Tuesday is still part of the weekend!), we knew they would be busy--(the corner is part of an unofficial red light district). So instead of our normal trip to Pans for coffee and back to the corner, we decided to walk and pray in the neighborhood.
We didn't really have a plan for the evening, but we started out by confessing, to each other and to God, how we've screwed up lately. Then after a few minutes we turned into Plaza Luna. The working girls (most of them girls, anyway) were already lined up and it wasn't totally dark yet. We walked in silence and took in what we saw around us, not even knowing what to pray for this neighborhood or how to start. Finally, words came in broken phrases:
"God, help."
"God, this is too big. There are too many problems. We can't do anything."
"There is so much prostitution, and drugs, and poverty. All around us it's like everything and everyone is worshipping the gods of sex and money."
"This is too big. We can't do this."
And then we turned a corner, onto a street that I know I've been down before (after all, we were only about a 5 minute walk from my flat at this point). Right in front of us, with lights shining on it to be sure we noticed, was a sign I had never noticed. It read:
The Holy Ground
After a few seconds of stunned silence we realized that it was the name of an Irish pub, but we were still dumbstruck. We turned onto Gran Via and Victoria grabbed my arm. "Hey Kelly, I think I need to take off my shoes." And she did. We kept walking, onto calle Monteras, down to Sol, and back up into our neighborhood, Victoria in her lime green sock feet. Our prayers still came in broken phrases:
"God, you're already working here. You love Madrid more than we do."
"God, we don't deserve to hand out sandwiches or coffee. It's not charity or something we're entitled to. It's grace that you let us do this."
"Help us see Madrid the way you see it."
"Thank You that you're already working here, before us."
We walked past our usual corner, past the street where I live, weaving around towards the Plaza Dos de Mayo. We spent lots of time in silence. We sang a little. We were weird and didn't care. We arrived home, Victorias feet disgusting but surprisingly having avoided all the broken glass. We were excited and reassured that God has us in this neighborhood for a reason, that He is already working here. That this is Holy Ground because He is here.
Later that night, not long after I had gone to bed, things got a bit crazy in my neighborhood, on the same street where we had walked and prayed. Here's a news clip explaining what happened:
"Violent clashes occurred in Madrid's Malasaña neighborhood in the early morning hours of 2 May 2007. Hundreds of people erected barricades with burning debris, set trashcans on fire and knocked down telephone booths. The protesters also attacked police officers with rocks and other objects, while officers used rubber bullets and tear gas to control the crowd. At least 65 people -- including 21 police officers -- were injured in the clashes, while eight others were arrested. Similar violent clashes occurred on 1 May, when police officers attempted to prevent a group of youths from celebrating the anniversary of the 2 May 1808 rebellion against the invader French army. Celebrations typically occur on 1 and 2 May, which are designated public holidays in the city, and involve drinking parties, a situation that police officers attempted to prevent."
This is not exactly the kind of Holy Ground that I had in mind. Riots? Rubber bullets and tear gas? Prostitutes, drugs, all night drunken parties? As I read the news story the next morning, something in the back of my head was saying "Come on, God, you've got to be kidding! How on earth can you tell us you're working here? How on earth is this holy ground? Everything I see is the opposite of holy."
It's been a couple weeks and these two contrasting incidents keep clashing in my mind--I can't quit thinking about it. More than anything, it makes me realize how God's perspective is different than mine.
I love Madrid. More specifically, I love Malasaña, my neighborhood, more than any place since my home town. I see the dirt, the prostitution, the drugs, and, well, you name a vice, it's within reach. But I love the diversity in this neighborhood. I love how (for the most part) people of all different ages and ethnicities get along. I love that it's ok to be weird in this neighborhood. I love the fun atmosphere, the laid-back pace. I love these windy little streets. I want my neighborhood to be better, not because I don't like it now, but because I love it so much. I want to help my neighborhood's good qualities really shine because I love it and I want the best for it. It's illogical looking around, loving Malasaña this much doesn't make sense.
Then again, maybe it makes all the sense in the world. God sees how much I screw up, whether I admit it or not. He knows I'm a mess and He loves me enough that He wants to see me be better--not out of guilt or condemnation, not because He hates me, but because He loves me enough to see what I can be under all the garbage. He wants what's best for me because He loves me, even when there is no logical reason.
This is how He must feel about my neighborhood. It's the only way that I can reconcile what I feel God telling my heart--this is Holy Ground--to what I see with my eyes. Somehow He manages to see the sex workers, the drugs, the dirt, the street parties gone too far, and He still loves Madrid, enough to let us know that He's still working here. He can still call it holy ground because He is here. That blows my mind, that He can still love this neighborhood, this city. He wants Madrid to be better because He loves it.
I'm convinced that this is why God has me here. Not just me, but our church in Madrid. And I'm convinced that this is why He keeps seeming to move people into this neighborhood, Malasaña. As the body of Christ--His hands and feet and physical presence, we can love Madrid the way that God loves us, impractically, illogically. I'm convinced that we will see Madrid change--it may take a while, maybe even longer than I'm here. But we will see people freed from slavery to the sex industry, freed from addiction, following Jesus, loving their neighbors and taking care of those around them that don't have enough. Madrid will be a place of refuge, a place of peace.
I'm excited, grateful, and not a little scared to be part of what God's doing here.
Pray for God's Kingdom to come in Madrid, or better yet, pray for God's Kingdom to become visible in Madrid.
Thanks for your encouragement, prayers, and support.
Peace,
Kelly
A couple of Tuesdays ago my friend Victoria and I went out in our neighborhood. We've been going to a specific corner a couple times a month and have just barely started to get to know the people who are there at night, but since it was a holiday weekend (yes, in Spain sometimes Tuesday is still part of the weekend!), we knew they would be busy--(the corner is part of an unofficial red light district). So instead of our normal trip to Pans for coffee and back to the corner, we decided to walk and pray in the neighborhood.
We didn't really have a plan for the evening, but we started out by confessing, to each other and to God, how we've screwed up lately. Then after a few minutes we turned into Plaza Luna. The working girls (most of them girls, anyway) were already lined up and it wasn't totally dark yet. We walked in silence and took in what we saw around us, not even knowing what to pray for this neighborhood or how to start. Finally, words came in broken phrases:
"God, help."
"God, this is too big. There are too many problems. We can't do anything."
"There is so much prostitution, and drugs, and poverty. All around us it's like everything and everyone is worshipping the gods of sex and money."
"This is too big. We can't do this."
And then we turned a corner, onto a street that I know I've been down before (after all, we were only about a 5 minute walk from my flat at this point). Right in front of us, with lights shining on it to be sure we noticed, was a sign I had never noticed. It read:
The Holy Ground
After a few seconds of stunned silence we realized that it was the name of an Irish pub, but we were still dumbstruck. We turned onto Gran Via and Victoria grabbed my arm. "Hey Kelly, I think I need to take off my shoes." And she did. We kept walking, onto calle Monteras, down to Sol, and back up into our neighborhood, Victoria in her lime green sock feet. Our prayers still came in broken phrases:
"God, you're already working here. You love Madrid more than we do."
"God, we don't deserve to hand out sandwiches or coffee. It's not charity or something we're entitled to. It's grace that you let us do this."
"Help us see Madrid the way you see it."
"Thank You that you're already working here, before us."
We walked past our usual corner, past the street where I live, weaving around towards the Plaza Dos de Mayo. We spent lots of time in silence. We sang a little. We were weird and didn't care. We arrived home, Victorias feet disgusting but surprisingly having avoided all the broken glass. We were excited and reassured that God has us in this neighborhood for a reason, that He is already working here. That this is Holy Ground because He is here.
Later that night, not long after I had gone to bed, things got a bit crazy in my neighborhood, on the same street where we had walked and prayed. Here's a news clip explaining what happened:
"Violent clashes occurred in Madrid's Malasaña neighborhood in the early morning hours of 2 May 2007. Hundreds of people erected barricades with burning debris, set trashcans on fire and knocked down telephone booths. The protesters also attacked police officers with rocks and other objects, while officers used rubber bullets and tear gas to control the crowd. At least 65 people -- including 21 police officers -- were injured in the clashes, while eight others were arrested. Similar violent clashes occurred on 1 May, when police officers attempted to prevent a group of youths from celebrating the anniversary of the 2 May 1808 rebellion against the invader French army. Celebrations typically occur on 1 and 2 May, which are designated public holidays in the city, and involve drinking parties, a situation that police officers attempted to prevent."
This is not exactly the kind of Holy Ground that I had in mind. Riots? Rubber bullets and tear gas? Prostitutes, drugs, all night drunken parties? As I read the news story the next morning, something in the back of my head was saying "Come on, God, you've got to be kidding! How on earth can you tell us you're working here? How on earth is this holy ground? Everything I see is the opposite of holy."
It's been a couple weeks and these two contrasting incidents keep clashing in my mind--I can't quit thinking about it. More than anything, it makes me realize how God's perspective is different than mine.
I love Madrid. More specifically, I love Malasaña, my neighborhood, more than any place since my home town. I see the dirt, the prostitution, the drugs, and, well, you name a vice, it's within reach. But I love the diversity in this neighborhood. I love how (for the most part) people of all different ages and ethnicities get along. I love that it's ok to be weird in this neighborhood. I love the fun atmosphere, the laid-back pace. I love these windy little streets. I want my neighborhood to be better, not because I don't like it now, but because I love it so much. I want to help my neighborhood's good qualities really shine because I love it and I want the best for it. It's illogical looking around, loving Malasaña this much doesn't make sense.
Then again, maybe it makes all the sense in the world. God sees how much I screw up, whether I admit it or not. He knows I'm a mess and He loves me enough that He wants to see me be better--not out of guilt or condemnation, not because He hates me, but because He loves me enough to see what I can be under all the garbage. He wants what's best for me because He loves me, even when there is no logical reason.
This is how He must feel about my neighborhood. It's the only way that I can reconcile what I feel God telling my heart--this is Holy Ground--to what I see with my eyes. Somehow He manages to see the sex workers, the drugs, the dirt, the street parties gone too far, and He still loves Madrid, enough to let us know that He's still working here. He can still call it holy ground because He is here. That blows my mind, that He can still love this neighborhood, this city. He wants Madrid to be better because He loves it.
I'm convinced that this is why God has me here. Not just me, but our church in Madrid. And I'm convinced that this is why He keeps seeming to move people into this neighborhood, Malasaña. As the body of Christ--His hands and feet and physical presence, we can love Madrid the way that God loves us, impractically, illogically. I'm convinced that we will see Madrid change--it may take a while, maybe even longer than I'm here. But we will see people freed from slavery to the sex industry, freed from addiction, following Jesus, loving their neighbors and taking care of those around them that don't have enough. Madrid will be a place of refuge, a place of peace.
I'm excited, grateful, and not a little scared to be part of what God's doing here.
Pray for God's Kingdom to come in Madrid, or better yet, pray for God's Kingdom to become visible in Madrid.
Thanks for your encouragement, prayers, and support.
Peace,
Kelly
posted by kelly_w at 8:56 AM
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