Ebenezer House

About an hour ago, Jordan and I received new sets of keys.  They are suspended from a ring along with a small tag bearing an address, the address of our new apartment.  Their significance is difficult to explain, but I'll give it my best shot.  These keys are tangible evidence of a present and faithful God, a God who provides and who loves, a God whose ways are incomprehensibly beyond my own.

This has been an experience that has renewed my waning faith, that has given me a breath of new life.

It all began a few months ago when, perusing the internet for houses and apartments around Staunton (for no other reason but time consumption, I'm sure), I stumbled upon a precious little house located on one of the rougher streets of the city.  My reaction to the cost-per-month was likely something between a laugh, roll of my eyes, and a gasp.  If the house was elsewhere, its going rate would likely be hundreds of dollars more per month.  I mentioned it briefly to Jordan, simply because of the clear difference between our own neighborhood (where our tiny one bedroom apartment is only $50 less per month) and a neighborhood only a few blocks away.  

I didn't think of it again until a few weeks later when, during one of Rick's ever challenging sermons, he mentioned something about moving into the less desirable parts of town in order to establish relationships with the people there.  The image of the house immediately came into my mind.  

Over the next few months, I began to feel a painful restlessness and a sense of urgency.  Memories and dreams of Chicago began surfacing.  Since leaving there, I have felt dried up, half-dead, "thirsty in a land where there is no water."  In the past, I've been able to suppress the memories, to keep going about my business, but this time, there seemed to be no escaping it.

"It" being conviction.  Conviction and desire.  Desire to be more engaged in incarnational ministry, to (attempt to) bridge gaps of race, class, education, religion, to live an intentional life, one of solidarity with the poor, to provide a safe place for kids, women, and men, to demonstrate (by God's grace) with our lives the love of Jesus.  Conviction that Jordan and I were called to these things, that circumstances led to our living in Staunton, a place Jordan likes to call "fertile," for perhaps that very reason.  

I know that is a long intro to the story, but it really doesn't begin to tell it in its entirety.  But, I pretend to be no Anne Lamott, and I know we all get bored pretty quickly.  

The real story began three weeks ago today.  Jordan and I had visited the before-mentioned house and had determined that once the utilities were thrown in, it would cost too much.  I was really discouraged.  We had received a letter in the mail reminding us that our lease was up at the end of June, asking to tell our landlords if we would be staying or leaving.  This particular Saturday was busy -- we had been invited to three social events and planned on making it to all three of them.  (We did.)  When we got to our second, a dinner with some friends from church, we soon found ourselves deep in a discussion about what our dreams were for our future.  One of the church's elders, Bert, had lobbed the proverbial ball over the plate for us, giving us an opportunity to share our desires.  By the end of the evening, Bert had encouraged us beyond explanation.  He was in our corner.  That was all we needed.

Later that week, we set up a meeting with Chris and Emily Lassiter, whose names I had heard often and whose faces I had seen, but who I had not yet officially met, but knew that we could learn from.  The Lassiters are an incredible couple who love Jesus and who are determined to follow him.  They are living intentionally a few streets away from the house we checked out and are involved in an urban ministry in the Staunton community.  They welcomed us into their home and we immediately felt safe and at peace.  This meeting alone was a life-giving, miraculous experience for Jordan and I.  Connecting with people who had a similar vision was beyond exciting.  We left their home with more knowledge of the needs of the Staunton community, a list of contact names running around in our heads, and a sense of assurance that God was working.

Soon after, we met with Diane and Lisa, two of the contacts that the Lassiters had given to us.  Diane is a social worker with the Office on Youth and Lisa is a police officer.  Once again, there was an immediate connection, one that reminded me of my days in Mission Year when simply having the same purpose was enough to bridge all other gaps.  Within minutes, Diane was calling a landlord about an apartment that Lisa had spotted.  (This particular apartment happened to be located on one of the streets that Diane had specifically mentioned to me in one of her emails about parts of the community where a positive presence was needed.  It was a few houses down from a woman named Elaine Rose, who I have yet to meet, but who is a minister working with businesses in the area to employ ex convicts.)  

In order to be able to afford the apartment, we would need a specific act of provision on God's part (while I would love to elaborate, we agreed to keep it on the down-low).  The same day that we met with Diane and Lisa, we met with the landlords, Eddie and Ayuko.  They asked us questions about what we wanted to do, in a way, it felt like an interview.  Eventually, Ayuko asked what books we had read, and mentioned John Perkins, a staple of Mission Year curriculum.  While I filled out the application for the apartment, she quietly mentioned that other people would be coming to see the apartment, but that she had been in prayer when she had received Diane's phone call, and that she was taking our application very seriously.  

The name of their business is Shalom Properties.

Today, three weeks from the day this all began, we signed the lease and were given two sets of keys.  We'll be moving in about two weeks.

Because God undeniably guided us and provided this place for us -- again, I emphasize that these details provide the bare bones of the real story -- and because we believe it is the beginning of our life's work, our new home will be called the Ebenezer House.  (Maybe I'll write next time more about the word ebenezer and its meaning.)

Once we're settled in, come on over for dinner.

Here I raise mine Ebenezer;
hither by thy help I'm come;
and I hope, by thy good pleasure,
safely to arrive at home.
Jesus sought me when a stranger,
wandering from the fold of God;
he, to rescue me from danger,
interposed his precious blood. —Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing