kristen
A Life of Service
P
eople without teeth who drool on themselves should be locked away
.
Even though she often thought this, Kristen still took time every week to stop by a care center for old people. She had come to both love and hate the place; she never wanted to go and she felt uncomfortable while there, but she always knew when she left she had done something right. Although she didn’t know it then, this feeling would come back to her down the road.
In college, Kristen began to study to be a doctor. Everyone said smart kids went into medicine. No one told her smart kids are also servants. But she found that out the summer she took off and went to the Dominican Republic, an incredibly poor country by the Caribbean Sea. Kristen learned how to cook over open fires, bathe in rivers, jump over open sewers, and collect rainwater to drink. She also learned how to be quiet and still. With no TV, music, or movies, Kristen was forced to face herself and learn more about who and what she was.
One day, the mother of the home where Kristen was staying asked the young woman to braid her hair, which was a tangled, matted mess. Kristen was repulsed by the thought—she had never seen the mother wash her hair. But Kristen gritted her teeth and did the best she could, and when she was done, the mother smiled. It was the first smile Kristen had seen on her face since she had come to share a part of her difficult life. A simple act of kindness had changed her day, and Kristen was reminded that she lived in a world of need, where there were many ways to help and serve every day.
Back at school the next fall, Kristen struggled with premed exams. She studied like crazy and knew the material inside and out, but when it came time to take the tests, she froze. Although she kept trying throughout the year, she began to believe it was God’s way of telling her—or her own way of telling herself—that perhaps other plans were on the horizon.
After Kristen graduated, she decided to take a year off to volunteer. Some of her family and friends thought she was crazy. She had given up a career as a doctor and, after four years of college, she was going to work for free? To be honest, it didn’t make sense to her either.
That fall, Kristen took a job teaching within the inner city of Chicago. Many of her students were crack babies; 90 percent were on psychotropic meds (medicine used to adjust emotion or behavior), most had extensive criminal records, nearly all were failing school, and all were living in complete poverty. Kristen often cried all the way home after an especially rough day.
Angry teenagers twice Kristen’s size called her every name in the book. One student brought a knife to class. When Kristen confronted another for missing class, he said he had been shot in the chest. Then he lifted up his shirt and showed her the actual bullet wounds. Another student threw a computer monitor at the young teacher in frustration. Then one day Kristen was mugged on the train while commuting home.
She couldn’t figure it out. She was trying her hardest, but nothing seemed to be going the way she hoped. Had she made a mistake? Was she failing? Was the system failing? Everything seemed too broken; the schools, the kids’ lives, even Kristen’s faith in God was bruised. There were so many needs, she felt overwhelmed. She wasn’t sure she could go on.
But Kristen read the Bible, and there she saw that Jesus taught a lot of wild things, such as in Matthew 5 where He said, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, / for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. / Blessed are those who mourn, / for they will be comforted” (vv. 3-4). As she wrestled with those things, she realized that God designed His children to live in a way that is upside down and inside out.
It’s a total
180
compared to every message I get at school or on TV,
Kristen thought. God was confirming that she was headed in the right direction, even when it didn’t feel right.
Contrary to all Kristen had learned in college, she suddenly saw that life wasn’t about getting. It was about giving. And through giving, she then began to receive. When Kristen released control and gave up what she wanted, she received peace and fulfillment—even in the midst of unending need and outward failure. Kristen found true joy in being who God created her to be. She grew even more convinced that there was something right in serving, even in the midst of things that were so wrong.
This life-changing realization set her free to be more effective and to serve from a full heart. She started by buying a toaster and some bread. Rather than trying to make others fit her agenda, she saw it was time to meet her kids where they were: hungry for both food and love. So she had warm toast ready for them when they showed up for class, and she soon discovered that it was more important to give a kid a high five than it was to teach him how to count to five.
With one young boy named Darrius, Kristen found a mutual language in music. He completed math worksheets in exchange for the chance to watch a music video. He and Kristen practiced reading by looking up lyrics to his favorite songs, printing them out, and sounding out the words. They honed math skills by calculating how many royalties his favorite artist earned every time the radio played his songs. For his birthday, Kristen and Darrius made a collage of, in his words, “the phattest rappers.”
Larry, one of Kristen’s thirteen-year-old students, could barely read. Over the course of the year, she noticed the slightest changes: a few more words recognized without having to sound them out, fewer incomplete worksheets, many more smiles, and a lot more self-esteem. She really knew, though, that things were on the right track when Larry recognized a need in another student and offered to help.
Someone had once told Kristen, “Your life’s work is where the needs of the world and the joys of your heart intersect.” She has found that kids are her joy, and their needs are calling out from every corner of the globe. The servant’s life is a process; it doesn’t come in neat packages. She’s faced defeat and discouragement, but she’s found that she always has more to give because God fills her again in such amazing ways. Kristen knows she is called to be His hands and serve, one piece of toast at a time.
Whoever wishes to become great among you shall be your servant . . . just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many.
(Matthew
20:26
, 28
NASB
)
clare of assisi
Free from the Love of the World
C
lare Offreduccio was the eldest daughter of a wealthy Italian count living in the tiny town of Assisi near the dawn of the thirteenth century. Her family owned a large palace in Assisi and maintained a castle on the slope of nearby Mount Subasio. Clare’s mother was a noblewoman known for her piety and love of the church, and tradition teaches that Clare followed her mother’s godly example from a very young age.
Clare was barely eighteen when she heard, perhaps not for the first time, the teaching of another young Assisian named Francis Bernardone. Drawing from traditions established a few centuries earlier by Saint Jerome of Egypt, Saint Augustine of Hippo, and Saint Benedict of Umbria, Francis denounced his family’s wealth and adopted a monk’s life of poverty. Putting his carefree days as a singer, merchant, and soldier aside, he one day stripped himself naked in the city square, leaving his robes behind as a symbol of the determination with which he was bound to follow Jesus Christ. “I desire no other wealth,” he said, “than the poverty of Christ.”
Francis’s aim was to become a friend of the poor and a lover of the unlovely. He spent many of his days living in caves and shelters and a nearby Benedictine monastery. Other young men followed him into the “Brothers Minor,” and they served God together. Francis’s work was restoring churches fallen into disrepair and begging alms for the poor and for himself.
When Clare heard Francis give the Lenten service at the church of San Giorgio at Assisi, her heart was struck. She was soon to be married to a man her father selected, but the world had never held much allure for her. She wanted to follow Christ as Francis did. His words inspired her to believe that she, too, could separate herself from the world and live for the sake of God and others.
Accompanied by her aunt, Clare sought out Francis and asked that she be admitted to the way of the Brothers Minor. There was no legal hindrance to her admission, but Francis had made no provision for the inclusion of women into his order. Still, he urged her to pray and be certain of God’s calling. She did, and her mind and heart were not changed. She asked again to follow him in the way of service, and touched by her sincerity and convinced of her calling, he agreed.
On Palm Sunday, Clare attended mass in all her finery. As others pressed forward at the altar rail to receive a palm branch from the bishop, Clare remained in her place. That was the last time the world beheld Clare Offreduccio.
She left her father’s house that same night, and accompanied by her aunt, she traveled to the chapel of the Portiuncula. The Brothers Minor were there, with candles lit, waiting with Francis to celebrate the mass. After their final amen, Francis read to Clare the laws she would follow. She bowed her head before him in a sign of obedience, and he cut off her hair and left it on the altar. She relinquished her rich robes and received a gray gown and black veil for beginning her life of poverty, chastity, and service. Francis then led Clare away to the convent at San Paolo, where she would live with the Benedictine sisters until a permanent home for her could be secured.
For eighteen years she had been her father’s daughter. Now she belonged entirely to God.
The next day, her father learned of her whereabouts and arrived to take her home. He spoke passionately to dissuade her from her promise, but she would not be moved. He finally left her there. A week later, her younger sister Agnes fled from their unhappy home to join Clare, and Francis received her as well. Again their father followed, but his attempts to carry his daughters back home were unsuccessful.
Realizing that he could not keep the sisters safe, Francis moved them to a quiet nearby retreat called San Damiano, which he had rebuilt with his own hands. There they were protected, and San Damiano became the permanent home for the Poor Sisters of Penitence, or “Poor Clares,” as they came to be known.
Other noble ladies of Assisi joined them, including, after a time, Clare’s third sister, Beatrice, her aunt Pacifica, and even her mother. In this way, the second order of Saint Francis of Assisi was established.
The Poor Clares were not required to travel, preaching and calling men to repentance, or to beg door to door as the Franciscans did. Their duties were fitting to their roles as women and complementary to those of Francis and his followers. They tended the sick, fed the hungry, and made garments for the naked. They fashioned medicines and administered them, made altar cloths for the churches restored by their Franciscan brothers, grew gardens, and baked bread.
Although even the church pressed Clare to renounce her strict vows of poverty, she did not. She meant to own nothing, and own nothing she did. When Cardinal Ugolino (later Pope Gregory IX) visited Clare in Assisi, he urged her to accept provision from Rome for the future needs of the order and offered to absolve her of her previous vows. She steadfastly refused. “Holy Father,” she answered, “I crave for absolution from my sin, but I desire not to be absolved from the obligation of following Jesus Christ.” Her words earned his lifelong respect.
Saint Clare continued to preside as abbess over the Poor Clares until her death in 1253, nearly forty years after she took her vows. Throughout her life she encouraged and aided her friend and spiritual mentor, Francis. On his final visit to San Damiano, Clare erected a little hut for him in an olive grove close to the monastery. It is believed to be there that he composed his glorious “Canticle of the Sun.” Upon Francis’s death, the funeral procession carrying his remains stopped only once: at the gate of San Damiano so Clare and her sisters could pay tribute to the one who had challenged them to a life of loving sacrifice for the glory of God.
Live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.
(Ephesians
4:1-3
)
jessica klapper
Standing Tall
J
essica started praying for others when she was five. “I saw answers to my prayers even then,” she said. “I knew Jesus was real.” She credits her intimate relationship with Jesus Christ to her parents—Christians who have raised her well and loved her through many trials.
At twelve, she spent time with another family, friends of her parents. Nothing unusual happened on the visit, but a few months later, Jessica couldn’t get one of the family’s sons—Ian—out of her mind.
“At first I dismissed it, wondering briefly how he was doing.” Still, Ian kept coming to her mind. She decided to pray for him—every day for several months. “I prayed hard for him. I didn’t know what I was praying for specifically, but I kept it up nonetheless.” When her family was invited to Ian’s home, Jessica told her mother, “Ian’s been on my mind. I need to see him and make sure he’s all right.”
Ian looked fine. Jessica was too embarrassed to ask him how he was doing. She didn’t tell him she was praying for him. But her mom told Ian’s mom about Jessica’s insistent and consistent prayers.
Ian’s mom was amazed. “He was very depressed, but we didn’t know,” she said. “I found him one afternoon in his room, his wrists slit. Since that time, he’s made a full recovery.” Ian’s mom was convinced that Jessica’s prayers saved Ian’s life.
“What a privilege it was to help Ian in such a time of need. God does hear prayers!” Jessica said.
Jessica spent time doing typical teenage stuff: swimming, scrapbooking, playing laser tag, going to movies. When Jessica was a senior in high school, she was elected president of the Bible club at her high school in South Carolina. She wanted the other thousand members of her school to know about the club’s meetings, so she wrote a few sentences to be announced during the daily bulletin. The next day, she waited for the announcement—but it never came. When she asked the receptionist about the omission, she was told to visit the principal.