What a day...

This was my day on August 9th.


A man, Manuel, came to the door looking for help. Hold on, I happen to work at a church in our Cross-Cultural Ministries department. I work with the homeless and people who are looking for all kinds of assistance. Anyway, back to Manuel, he lost his job, the person he was renting a room from up and moved and took/threw out his belongings. His daughter is on Sec. 8 housing so he can't stay with her without jeopardizing her housing.
He needed a place to stay for the night. I sent him to a motel to find out if they had a room. On the way back he put in an application at the .99 cent store. When he came back, they did have a room so we paid for a night.
He was so happy he started to cry. He wanted to shake my hand and when I did he grabbed it and kissed it.
He said he had talked to some other Churches but they couldn't help.
He sat down, looked up at the sky and prayed for help. A guy came up and told him to go to Knott Ave. Christian Church because "they care there."
That was a good day.

Well, here is an update on Manuel.
He came to Community Assistance later that same day to get food and when Jim, one of our volunteers, talked to him, he accepted Christ as his personal Savior.
A good day indeed!

Later in the afternoon I got a phone call from Tory. He told me that an Apache kid, Donnie, I knew from a few years ago; actually I taught him how to do a magic trick while I was there on a Short-Term Missions trip, was hit by a car and killed that morning. Donnie was deaf and involved in gangs.
That day isn't so good any more.

Kids like Donnie are the reason Liz and I are being called to the Reservation. And guys like Manuel are the reason I'm here at Knott Ave. for now.

In Him,

Robert