In the arm of a Junkie
We were driving up to Martin Hall, having a pretty deep discussion about life, purpose and the mystery of an elusive and sometimes hidden God.
He said he was looking for God and I said...
"If you find Him, tell Him I'm looking for Him too."
I found Him yet again that night in the arm of a young junkie.
Her name is Chelsea. She is 14, "almost 15" as young girls like to always say. She is as pretty as a puppy. Kind of looked like Avril Lavigne without the toughness until you looked at her little arms.
One arms was a mass of little black pin pricks...needle injection holes...she's a mainliner. On the other arm was a host of cuts, small little cuts running up and down her soft little skin...she is also a cutter.
I talked on Mark 5, the demon man who lived in the grave yard and spent his time cutting himself self with stones, screaming at the moon and lived among the dead. I talked about a generation that were dead men walking, that had a legion of demons with names. I shared about how no one could shackle this generation, they were mad, in agony and full of rage.
And I talked about how Jesus came to him and confronted his demons, named them and drove them out. We ended the night talking about being clothed in your right mind, sitting at the feet of Jesus and then going to tell your friends, family and relatives about the good things God has done for you.
God was in the house.
I asked for those who wanted prayer. Many raised their hands, so did Chelsea. After prayer I asked who wanted to talk one on one...Chelsea's hand jumped up, her eyes were alive and face almost shining. I sat next to her. Her first words: "you almost made me cry with that prayer..."
We talked, she shared, she wanted to pray but not after sharing that she was from Spokane and had no where to go when she got out...no where to go. What do you tell a girl that says that? I asked if I could pray for her and I did. I leaned as close as I could to a inmate and gently touched her shoulder and whispered prayers into a little girls ears. Prayers that I prayed to God had the power of creation at their beckon call. Prayers that I begged would draw heaven's attention to this little junkie.
When I stopped there were tears on the table. God have mercy I wanted to hold that little child. I told her if I were your daddy right now...I would hug you and hug you and hug you and hug you. Oh how I meant it with all the love of God found on this cursed planet.
I wanted to hold a child that had been raped by her own father from when she was 11 to 13. I wanted to hold a junkie and pray that poison out of her little veins. I wanted to touch her arms and see those scars disappear.
Oh, how I wanted...but couldn't.
After that as I drove home...God spoke to my heart about my future. I will share more about that soon.