ALFRED'S DAY

Last but far from least was Alfred! Alfred was to get a shower, he was number 38. Alfred is thirteen and severely mentally handicapped, and didn't want a bath and doesn't understand a water sprayer, and that's the way we give baths. It took several of us plus mama to complete the shower, but It was done. This was the second time so it was a little easier.

After the rather traumatic shower, Alfred's mother wanted him to have a haircut and Alfred had plenty of hair!

Marison is our barber. She is good and keeps clipping for hours, the boys love the way she cuts hair. Her two clippers are hot! Now enter Alfred and his mother and another experience for poor Alfred; a haircut. Things were going rather well until the clippers got clogged and made a terrible screeching noise which flipped Edgar out, now it was a three person haircut. For thirteen Edgar is strong! Every so often the screeching would start again and Edgar would gain strength ... while we laid hands on his head. About five minutes and four screeches later Edgar had his butch haircut! He looked back at the haircutters with disgust as his mother pulled him away.

A haircut doesn't seem like much, it's only about 36 pesos or about $2; but when the family's priorities are food, school and transportation ... haircuts become few and far between. Thanks Marison!

In our four neighborhoods we are appreciated by the hundreds. Thanks for making our ministry among the really poor possible.

MUCH MORE THAN HURTING PROTOPLASM! JUST TWO IN BILLIONS!

I prize this painful painting! It says so much, much more than I want to listen to. I have been there, I have seen it, I've heard the quiet sobbing, the coughing and cars passing by ... I've even smelled it. This picture doesn't harden my heart, it breaks my heart!

In this case, we Christians need more Godly heart attacks.

Too often compassion is trumped by reason, or some other way of fighting off Godly guilt. At any rate it never seems to get spelled right. If we're smart, and we are, we never stop long enough to let God's chemistry of compassion sink in. The more we look at this picture, the more it hurts. Compassion demands changes be made, and on occasion sacrifices be made! I've met many "mature" Christians who still haven't a clue as to what real compassion is. Compassion, mercy and grace are three words securely locked in their dictionary.

Every one of us who so carelessly call ourselves a Christian, has an obligation to respond with a sacrificial compassion to 'needs' ... to the needy we find in life's path. (Christians should never intentionally navigate around the needy, but we do.)

And as a Christian I want to have an empathy or sympathy ... even a sorrow for those who have 'wants' ... be it cigarettes, bottle of whiskey or another drug. Those are 'wants', not 'needs'. "I'm sorry but no!"

But for the truly needy, Godly compassion ... true compassion will move my heart, hand, even my pocketbook.

LOOKING FOR THE LOST 15 YEARS

Way back in 1981, a friend and I started "Spectrum Ministries," a ministry dedicated to the very poor just across our border in Tijuana. My friends backed me up and financed the new ministry and did it grow.

Because of the many years I did youth ministry here in San Diego, I thought of the potential of introducing American teens to become involved in an actual missionary ministry in a foreign country. Our Church is located right along the north south freeway. It became a great staging center for housing week-end groups.

I was always grateful for the years our Church hosted these teen groups from all over the nation.

This 'minister with us' concept grew and soon we were attracting groups from all over the U.S. Hundreds of groups added to thousands of teens and adults being introduced to a 'hands on' experience of actually serving the poor, aged and handicapped.

Often I look back at those fruitful years where teens could immerse themselves in frontline ministry along with countering a radically different culture. I feel those visits made a powerful impact on teens as they evaluated their lifestyle in contrast with the true poverty around them.

Now, some fifteen years later, how did that trip, or those trips impact their present lifestyle? I wonder if any would consider returning to serve the poor in Tijuana?

Just wondering if that "jump-start" experience really started anything, actually did it make a difference in lives?