His ministry is his life. His life is his ministry.

I'm going to post another excerpt from this blog. It may have a word that I'm not fond of, but it is very real.

The Gap Year crew spent the evening at Sam's house. We watched a movie, ate dinner, talked about life... Normal, right? Wrong. Sam and his family reside in West Denver which a predominately hispanic/low-income section of the city. From the outside he is a stereotype - even he will attest to that. His appearance molds perfectly to just about every one of our stereotype images of a hispanic gang member. I'm only speaking truth because I mean, if we're truly honest with ourselves - we all have that stereotype image in the back of our heads. But what most would not guess is that he is also a man of brilliance, compassion, committment and strength like that of which I rarely see. That... AND he has one of the sickest low-riders I've ever seen.

Him and his homies had us over for dinner tonight so that we may stand in a community where the unthinkable happens. Where violence is in an inevitable part of their week; a place where cops are constantly oppressing the citizens they swore to protect because to them - just about every hispanic male is a molds to a generalization. This is a place where the people work hard, but have little; where they are surrounded by gang activity; where there is so much need, but I can't do a damn thing about it.

After checking out his low-rider car projects, which he put together, and talked about his new idea for designing and marketing a low-rider BMX bike, we went inside to watch a movie called La Mission. This movie was intended to give us a clearer picture of their community and the life they have proudly chosen to embrace. Sam and his family have immerced themselves in this community. It's where he is from, what he knows best, and where he knows he is supposed to be. I could go on about the life of Sam, the people he loves and all those who love him, the way he spends his days, and the amount of respect we owe to men like him, but for the sake of your time I'll just close with what he taught me tonight.

He ended tonight with very powerful words. He said that (not word-for-word) "you guys are about to leave, and maybe never come back, but we... we're here to stay." We were about to leave and put it all behind us, making everything that had happened nothing but a memory, but he was there, in that community, to give all of who he is to the people and to his family. He gave us an invitation to never forget what we had experienced, but to make those moments a part of who we are. His ministry is not with an organization or not profit, it's just being a member of a community - sharing in their pain and in their weaknesses, taking on their burdens - that's his ministry... and his life. It's a lesson that I must carry with me as I enter into so many different communitites this year. I can not walk away from any place without carrying a little piece of them with me. A piece that my keeps my heart breaking for their pain, and rejoicing in their blessings.