Michael
This letter was written several years ago by my friend. He is now ministering in Columbus, Ohio. He asked me to share this with you.I am writing this letter because of three people I met in Washington Park. They were church people from a church called the Vineyard. They would go to the park every Saturday with their friends to give out food for the poor and homeless. At the time, I was both. At the time, I didn’t talk to church people that much. But when I looked into their hearts, I could tell there was something about them that was different from a lot of others. They were for real about their work for our Lord. Seeing this made me want to write something about them

Billy
Billy had always known violence as a way of life. His father was a Viet Nam vet and all his uncles had been soldiers. They taught him that to be a man he’d have to be able to “stick up for himself”. Billy learned that meant that you always had to be ready to fight, whether it was during a war or at the local bar. Every time Billy came home from fighting at school, his father praised him for “not taking no sh*t.” So Billy got into lots of fights, and learned that he received respect from the people who feared him. So it was no surprise when he got into a violent fight when he was 14, and was sent away for a couple of years at a youth facility. He still didn’t stop the viol

Jon
When the priest arrived for his assessment at the apartment at 13th and Vine, he was not prepared for what he would find. The priest was aghast when he saw Kenny, only weeks old, crying uncontrollably, already suffering from malnutrition and neglect. Besides the soiled and dirty condition of the baby, he had bruises covering his tiny body, and bleeding from his left ear. At the hospital, they discovered a broken arm, a broken sternum, and two fractured legs. His mother, a prostitute, insisted he only fell out of the crib, but Kenny was immediately put under the care of Child Protective Services and placed in a foster home. His foster parents, the Stegmans, were loving, caring peo

Transformation
This is not a story of transformation, but has more to do with the process of transforming. This was a talk I gave once at the homeless church downtown. It’s about finding the joy and love that God had intended for us. My hope is that someone will read this and transform their life. God’s will for us is joy. But the majority of the world seems hopeless and depressed. I see few Christians that are consistently joyful. But God has revealed to us just what it takes for us to be joyful. It involves a way of thinking, an attitude about everything – a turning of the mind. So why don’t we have that peace and joy? Here are a few of the things that I have discovered block the pe

Al
Al was big in the drug business. He was a well known dealer and made plenty of money from it. He was respected and feared, known for his enforcement of drug collecting efforts. Nobody messed with him. His years in Viet Nam taught him to be treacherous and cool in the midst of horror. He had enough money to buy rich clothes, flashy cars, and all the girls he wanted. It was life on the edge, and he loved it. He was big. Everyone knew him, and no one dared to cross him…. Until a couple of young ‘hoods’ tried to make a name for themselves, and become ‘big’ in the drug business. Al knew the boys and they laughed and hustled pool together. He knew their family and they knew his.