I stood next to his table, glancing over at him repeatedly. In my heart and mind, I was desperately working up the courage to say something to him. He was a little Hispanic man sitting hunched over his tray of food. He looked over his shoulder at me, smiled, and then quietly continued eating. I arrived at the Rescue Mission a few minutes before with the goal of speaking with someone in Spanish, yet now that my opportunity had arrived, my tongue tied up in a knot, and a lump nestled snugly in my throat. What was I to say? Would I even understand him?

As my mind clouded with questions and fears, the Hispanic man looked again over his shoulder at me, and with a smile said, "Hola! Como estas?" With excitement, I shoved my fears behind me and responded. Even though I spent the conversation stumbling over Spanish phrases that I recently learned and at times made a fool of myself, I can confidently say that it was worth it. Why had I been so afraid?

After dinner was cleaned up, I joined the homeless for Chapel. I sat in the second to front row listening intently to the encouraging words coming from the speaker. He shared about how God is our refuge and shelter in times of storm, how we can rely on Him, run to Him and be safe. I smiled as I heard the wonderful promise of God's presence and power in our life, but I knew the promise was far more precious for the others sitting in the room, for those who feel no security or peace. I glanced over to the man sitting nearest to me and watched him as the words comforted his heart. His scraggly beard shifted and his eyes squinted slightly, holding a soft gleam. He must have been smiling too.

When the speaker finished, he prayed and then the worship leader began leading us in songs of praise to our Refuge and Strength. As we sang the words, "Oh no, You never let go, through the calm and through the storm...", I looked back to the men seated behind me. One man across the room was on his knees, with his hands stretched to heaven and tears streaming down his cheeks. My eyes filled with tears as I watched him unashamedly worship his Comforter, his Healer, his Shelter, his Redeemer. Imagine the burdens he carried, the fears he battled with, the fatigue that weakened his body. Every day was a new storm of its own. Yet as he worshiped, I saw on his face the peace and love he felt from the Everlasting Arms which held him. "I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on. And there will be an end to these troubles, but until that day comes, still I will praise You. Still I will praise You..."

It is so easy for me to say, "God is my Refuge and Strength, an ever present help in times of storm" and not really know what that means. It is easy for me to read the Bible and simply smile at the words on the pages, because I'm unaware of how His presence and nearness should bring me to my knees. It is easy to take lightly what David writes in Psalms, "Be my Rock of refuge to which I can always run" and fail to run to Him myself.

I want to sing of my Refuge, fully believing and understanding the promise that He will never let go.

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, Your perfect love is casting out fear. And even when I’m caught in the middle of the storms of this life, I won’t turn back. I know You are near..."

The other morning, I spent a good many minutes plucking my eyebrows. This may sound like something you don't want to read, but let me tell you what I learned from the job. Plucking eyebrows reminds me a lot of getting sin out of your life.

First of all, you can't just shave your eyebrows or that will cause more problems. You have to get the hair all the way out. In the same way, you can't just shave your sin to make it look better for a day or hide what's really there. You have to get it out. C.S. Lewis writes in the perspective of Jesus, "I have not come to torment your natural self, but to kill it. No half-measures are any good. I don't want to cut off a branch here and a branch there, I want to have the whole tree down. I don't want to drill the tooth, or crown it, or stop it, but to have it out. Hand over the whole natural self, all the desires which you think innocent as well as the ones you think wicked--the whole outfit. I will give you a new self instead." According to Jesus, it is not enough for us to simply fill the cavity, shave the eyebrow, literally cover over the sin. To be a Christian means to destroy the sin. Pluck it out and wash it down the drain.

Plucking eyebrows and getting rid of sin are also similar in the fact that they hurt. This is pretty self-explanatory. If you've ever plucked your eyebrows or watched someone do it, you know it hurts. With sin, when you work hard to get rid of it or overcome the bad habit, it doesn't come easy. In fact, in brings pain. To give up of a selfish sinful desire is to give up of temporary pleasure...and that hurts. It is a sacrifice to pluck sin completely from your life, but it is worth it in the long run.

You may be asking yourself, "Doesn't the hair grow back?" Of course it does. Otherwise I wouldn't have been plucking my eyebrows again yesterday. But this doesn't ruin the comparison. Just because we have God's strength and forgiveness to help us destroy sin, that doesn't mean we won't keep sinning. Christians still sin. As a result, we must continually pluck the sin out. Until we're given a new body after we die, we will still have to pluck eyebrows and sin.

Where does Jesus come in? We obviously can not pluck eyebrow hairs out on our own or sin, for that matter. I have tried using my fingers to pull one of my eyebrow hairs out. And just for the record, it doesn't work. We need another tool to do the job - tweezers. In the same way, I can not get rid of sin on my own. It is my nature to disobey and disappoint God. How can I do otherwise on my own? God gives us the tool to destroy sin - His Son, Jesus Christ. Without Christ's death and the gift of the Holy Spirit, sin would still be rampant in our lives...and like a bushy eyebrow, it wouldn't be pretty.

If you haven't plucked your eyebrows before, hopefully this note has allowed you the opportunity to think about sin without going through the painful process of pulling hair out of your head. And if you have plucked your eyebrows and do on a regular basis, may you remember the sadness of sin while you pluck.

All that to say, sin is what I think about when I pluck my eyebrows.

"It's amazing how much the church changes when you haven't been there in a while. I think it's been 1.5 years since we've made it to a service. We've been so busy, and there just hasn't been enough leftover."

What: Six teenagers who love music, love camp Jonah, and love Jesus are putting on a benefit concert for anyone and everyone to be a part of! The night will be full of worship music and will be an opportunity to learn about and support Jonah Ministries (www.campjonah.com).

When: Sunday, April 19th. 7:00 pm - 9:00 pm

Where: Crossroads Ministry Center, 8803 NE 76th St., Vancouver, WA.

Why: To worship Jesus, to learn about Camp Jonah, and to raise support for their ministry to youth.

Free Admission!

Soapy water dripped from my baggy gloves, as I rinsed the crumbs out of the dish rag and continued wiping down the tables. Passing between the men and women sitting hunched over their trays of food, my nose crinkled under the stench emanating from their dirty jackets. The men's faces were half-hidden by facial hair, and wrinkles tainted the once young faces. Although the odor could have easily turned someone off from engaging with these people, somehow my heart was beating for them.

After an hour of wiping down tables, serving cups of water, and clearing trays, I sneaked inside the chapel doors to where the guitar was ringing out songs of worship. I quietly walked to the far corner of the room, and listened. Several men belted out in praise along with the leader, while others still fumbled around with the words. I heard an unfamiliar song in the background. It was the men who slept, snoring in their chairs. No one knows where they had slept the night before, or if they had slept at all. But in the safety of the chapel and the music, they slept unafraid.

I scanned the room, watching the men worship. One little man near the front caught my attention. I had seen him earlier serving his friends, but I didn't guess that he was homeless like them. In the front, he stood. He was the only one standing. He stretched his arms to heaven, and from the back of the room, I heard him singing. He knew all the words, and I saw an unexplainable passion shine from within him. Unashamed, he sung out, unafraid, he lifted his hands, and unaware of my watching, he closed his eyes meditating on every word he sang. A man, whose world and dreams had been shattered by homelessness, still held on to a promise that could never be dashed by the storms of life. His hope was rooted in Someone bigger, in Someone who promised him life. Watching his determination and belief in that promise bubble forth in his worship really moved me.

As the chapel session came to a close and the sleeping mats and blankets were all laid out for the homeless men, we made our way out the door, saying goodbye to the many grateful hearts who thanked us as we left. One lady who served alongside me that night told me about her conversation with the same little man who I still couldn't get out of my mind. She told me she had asked him his name over dinner. But he had only replied with, "Ah, that's not important. All you need to remember is this: that you came to the Rescue Mission tonight and were really blessed!"

His words stuck with me.

I had mixed feelings about leaving that night. I was tired but also heartbroken that while I was sleeping on a bed full of warm blankets, these men were only sleeping on thin mats or cement. I had a roof over my head, while these men only had a canopy of stars. I had promised food for breakfast the next morning, when these men had no guarantee when their next meal would be. As I wiped down tables earlier, I asked one man if he was getting enough. His plate was partially full, and I knew that seconds were unlikely. He replied with a grin, "More than enough!"

How could these poor, dirty, hopeless people still be smiling and thankful, when all they knew and loved had been stripped away from them? How could their hearts be so full, when they had so little? Even in a couple hours that night, their hearts' reaction to a simple meal and a few worship songs had really touched me. Their joy and love encouraged me. Their faith in the midst of their trials strengthened me. Their gratitude and contentment blessed me. While I went there to bless them, God used them to bless me.

"All you need to remember is this: that you came to the Rescue Mission tonight and were really blessed!"

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