So I met a man last night while we were taking food to the homeless people. His name is Charles... I think. He talked to me and Ash. We couldn’t understand him very well, but with the help of a translator, he shared with us how he just got out of 25 years in prison. His crime? He’d decapitated a man with a switchblade because the man was hitting on his girlfriend... I think I had a mini heart-attack. He went on to share how in his tenth year of this prison sentence the Fook Lam Church Pastor began to visit him every week and by his 12th year, he was radically saved and began a ministry in the prison.
Somehow I got stuck on the fact that he’d killed someone. He didn’t look like a killer, dressed nice, wide smile, very outgoing... But he was, he decapitated a man. (I hate that word; decapitated). For a total of about ten seconds I stood there almost mad at him... But then a still small voice reminded me that he is loved as well, as much as me. (Why do I think sometimes that I’m loved more than some people because of how good I am or how much I do or haven’t done? Oh brother, Monica!) I began to pray in my heart. And suddenly I was filled with excitement for what God had done in and through this man, who had committed such an ugly crime. But then... That’s my God.
While in prison he lost contact with his daughter because his girlfriend had severed all connections. He desperately wanted to find her. I told him I would pray. He also told me he needs a job. I told him I would pray. And he told me he needs a new house. I told him I would pray. Wow... Better get on that!!!
FOOK LAM CHURCH
Every Tuesday night, come what may, this small congregation of people will be out on the streets. Physically and spiritually embracing the lowest of the low. What an inspiration they’ve been to me. I’ve been so humbled. They know the names and stories of every person. They know exactly when and where to find them. They feed, encourage, embrace (yes, HUG), pray and simply hang out with these people. Something nobody does.
Here’s an example of this crazy love:
It was midnight. We (the YWAMers) were getting tired, but the people of the FLC were going strong. Looking for a man named... we’ll say Hon Si. He wasn’t in his usual spot. As we were walking a voice called from the other side of the wide road. It was him. He used an old folding chair for a walker. His hair was very thin, but long and stringy. He wore a long jacket to his feet, it was stained and just looked like it wreaked. With an exhausting effort he raised an arm in greeting and began to push his chair across the road - NOT paying any attention to what was coming. Down the road a huge truck rumbled his way. It honked, but as you’d know if you’ve been to HK, it was not going to slow down. Especially not for this individual. Would he be hit? We stood frozen, horrified. I’m glad someone was thinking. The pastor ran out into the street. He scooped the man up and ran out of the way of the truck just in time. In that moment I saw Jesus. And I cried.
This is what it means to be His hands and feet.
"Father, give me eyes that see need. Give me a heart to respond and hands to literally give love. No matter how uncomfortable the situation. Jesus did. And I want to be like Him. But I'll need help. Be at work in my heart, Holy Spirit. You are great. I love You. Amen."



