Mission Station Open

May 12, 2023

When the pandemic was at its height, our village followed the mandates laid down by New York State, shutting down the park with its playground and basketball courts for the summer. So instead of hanging out at the park, the neighborhood teenagers flocked to the swimming hole in the creek on our property. Any day it wasn’t raining, we could count on up to a dozen kids lounging in our yard and swimming in the creek.

When God brings the mission field to your door, it’s not a good idea to ignore it, so we would go down, learn their names,  make sure they knew the ground rules, and talk to them about Jesus. I can’t say we had any great success other than getting to know them. 

Then last summer, the crew was gathered outside the park when a disagreement turned into a fight and one of them pulled a pistol from a backpack, shot and killed one of the others. The circle of friends blew apart like a ripe dandelion on a breezy day. One teenager dead, and another’s life down the drain in a moment. When I talked with one of the leaders of the gang, he told me their entire group of friends had fallen apart. They were as Jesus said, “like sheep without a shepherd.”

About a week ago, I ran into one of them at the gas station. He told me he’s starting up a landscaping business. He has almost no equipment, but plenty of enthusiasm and a willingness to work hard. Since our tractor is in the shop for its annual maintenance, I tried to hire him for some lawn mowing. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a mower big enough for what we need done, but I’ll find something he can do.

Apparently God isn’t finished with our mission to these kids. This afternoon as I was working on a small project among the spruce in our front yard, I looked up just in time to see one of the gang sliding across the lawn alongside his dirt bike. He rolled across the gravel driveway before skidding to a stop on the other side. He was wearing shorts and slides, no helmet, but sustained surprisingly little road rash. The grass was his friend. As I went over to check on him, his buddies came boiling out of the pickup truck they were riding in as lookout. 

He was more shook up than hurt, which is more than I can say for the bike which shed various parts on its trip across our lawn. His friends and I loaded the bike into the back of the truck, and they left,  politely apologizing for the damage to the grass. I am just glad my young friend is OK. I’ll check up on him tomorrow. Maybe it’s time to put up a shingle: “Creekside Mission is Open for Business.” These kids have been on my heart and in my prayers for two years. This is my invitation: Join me in prayer, claiming them for Jesus.