When I first started this post, it was with the intention of explaining what God is doing in my heart in regards to a community I have fallen in love with over the past few years; Oildale. However, I’m finding that the more I write about it, the more I feel obligated to write every detail of the story that brought me there. And what was intended to be a brief synopsis is turning into a narrative of great length! I have always been detail oriented, and certainly have difficulty getting to the point concisely. So, please forgive me, but expect that most of my posts will probably be quite long in length. So grab a cup of coffee, and join me when you can.
When I first met Josh one of the most profound things that attracted me to him was his unwavering passion for the Gospel of Jesus. As we enter our 17th month (yes, month) of marriage, I am quickly learning just how all consuming this passion is for him. As an outpouring of this passion is an incredible heart for the poor. Never had I met someone so committed to this being an integral aspect of a gospel centered life.
My first encounters with poverty were on short term mission trips to Mexico in high school with our youth group. I loved sharing the gospel in this setting and yet this also reinforced that those truly in need were those outside of my hometown. After several short term experiences to Mexico, Uganda, Turkey, and Guatemala I became convinced for several years that God was calling me out of education and in to the international mission field. I knew God was calling me to share the gospel with kids who never have had the opportunity to hear it. In my arrogance, I automatically assumed that every child in the US had that opportunity and I had to go to some other country. I began to buy into the lie that poverty and God’s mission were “Out there.” The attractiveness of the exotic contributed to this ideology, only polluting it more.
It wasn’t until I met Josh that I learned of the true state of my little Dust Bowl settled town of Bakersfield, California. Josh knew that the Lord brought him to Bakersfield to serve and love the poor in our community. He knew that Kern County was one of the lowest per capita income regions in the United States. I, on the other hand, was completely clueless in my little suburban corner of the city.
I remember him driving me through poor neighborhoods, and explaining to me God’s heart for these people as well. I remember him telling me that God did not create us to isolate ourselves from our fellow Image bearers. They need Jesus to free them from their broken communities. How do we relate to such people? I remember thinking. He said that it wasn’t about an “us” and “them” mentality. “We all need Jesus. We need relationships with those of other socio-economic classes, just as much as they need us; such relationships make us more human,” he said. Gospel centered living means not just serving the poor, and sharing the gospel with them; but also about being in loving and authentic relationships with them. The scales were off and my eyes were opened to the reality that God’s mission field was truly everywhere, and that there was great need in my own town.
I could not help but repent of: my ignorance, my superior attitude, my mentality, and my naivety. Deeper still, I had bought into the cultural lie that a faithful Christian life was one that secluded myself and my family from the “least of these.”
Thus began our relationships with people in one particularly low income community, Oildale. My first experience was to serve a Thanksgiving meal at an extremely run down trailer park. I was unsure of myself, despite my international mission experience. How is it that I could so easily travel to another country, not speak the language, and boldly proclaim the gospel, but so ineffectively connect with my own people less than five miles away? Was it because now I wasn’t boarding a plane in a week or two? Was it because now I am actually required to build loving relationships, for the long haul? Was it fear? I was so convicted.
I remember that first Thanksgiving trying to socialize with the residents of the trailer park. All were in tattered clothing, unshaven, dirty, and quiet. They were so quiet. They didn’t want to talk or build any sort of relationship with the girl in the Old Navy jeans and sequin adorned t-shirt. They didn’t know me. For all they knew I was someone there to serve a meal and never see them again. In their eyes, I was the girl from the other side of the tracks, trying to make myself feel better by superficially taking part in their lot in life. I’m not sure such a statement was false.
Despite all this, I knew the gospel of Jesus. I knew that Jesus loved them. I knew that Jesus died and rose for them. This alone was my courage, if nothing else.
So I scanned the people, trying to make sense of who to talk to. Empty eyes looked back. Then I spotted a family that made my heart sink. There were two grade school children and an older teenage girl. Kids! Yes! I can talk to kids! I thought. Being a teacher, God has always gifted with me the ability to connect with children. So I introduced myself and sat down. I had no clue what to say. I sat awkwardly with the family and tried to make conversation.
With the adults, I got short one word responses to my prompts: “yes,” “no,” “mmm, hmm.” The grade school boy had a scowl on his face. I tried to break through the furrowed eyebrows. I got a bit of an in when I started talking about WWE wrestling, but couldn’t really follow what he was talking about. His sister seemed eager to talk and make a friend. Also, she introduced me to their teenage sister who was pregnant. Once given some attention, the young lady was willing to divulge a lot.
I remember thinking to myself: How do I, a 28 year old, Christian, virgin, single, college graduate, young working professional connect with an 18 year old girl who has found herself pregnant? Don’t say anything stupid, was my resolve.
To my surprise, we hit it off quiet well. I told her about Josh and how we met. She told me about her boyfriend and how they met. I asked a lot of questions about the pregnancy since I was pretty clueless apart from a high school health class. She and I ended up exchanging phone numbers and I was able to call her afterward.
That Thanksgiving began a new part in my life…Oildale: the place where low income descendents of Dust Bowl migrants found themselves. It could have very well been me. My family, two generations back, came out from Oklahoma during the Dust Bowl to work in California. If circumstances had played out differently, our roles could have been reversed. I remember Josh saying as we left, “Erin, these are your people.” Immediately the thought of “first to the Jews, and then to the Gentiles” hit my mind. God was showing me that Bakersfield was my “Jerusalem.” He was sending me to my own to share the glorious truth of Jesus.
We committed to serving at the Homework Club that some people from our church had started in the trailer park. Meeting under a tarp, hung on an empty trailer lot, we started helping kids after school with their homework: many of their parents unable to do so. We got to know the children and their families. We started attending the BBQ that other volunteers started one night a week. At the BBQ, the entire trailer park was invited for free and we would sing worship together afterward. Josh and I made a commitment to be with our friends in Oildale on a weekly basis. Over time, opportunities to pray, encourage, share scripture and the gospel have occurred. More people from our church got involved and have started Men’s and Women’s Bible Studies in the neighborhood.
Last year we spent Thanksgiving again with our friends in Oildale. But, the second year was in stark contrast to the first. We were laughing and talking with our friends in Oildale! I remember feeling like it was a family feast with a whole neighborhood! I praised God for the relationships that had formed.
Last fall, the church rented an abandoned building in front of the trailer park and has used the facility to operate some of the above ministries as well as a few other programs; all free of charge to the residents in the community. This past summer we had “Summer Church,” an evangelism ministry for the kids twice a week where each day the Gospel was shared. By the end, several kids came to Christ. Still today the kids, even 2nd graders, can tell me the memory verse from the summer: “This is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son, as a sacrifice for our sins.” 1 John 4:10. They have the Gospel in a short sentence memorized in their minds!
This November will mark our third Thanksgiving in Oildale. And once again, I find myself at a point where God is challenging me to grow spiritually all the more. I have been strongly encouraged by some of the volunteer leaders to commit to coming on Thursday afternoons to informally mentor some older adolescent girls at the Homework Club. In fact there is one particular girl they would like me to spend time with. I find myself struggling to make the commitment. Ministering to people in poverty is not for those who want to “get in and get out.” It means living life with people who truly struggle with sin. But, hey, isn’t that what we’re called to do as Christians-to make disciples?
The challenge for me is that I find that I can be someone who is overcommitted. I recognize that this very well may be an excuse. Being a teacher is incredibly demanding. To teach well often means to work longer than the hours required of you. It means preparing engaging and appropriate lessons. It means serving in leadership at your school and district office on committees. It means grading papers. It means contacting parents on a regular basis. And it means that my afternoons are often full of work commitments.
I see my role as teacher in public education also as ministry.
I want to meet with these young girls in Oildale. I want to counsel them in the Way of the Lord. I want to share the gospel with them. I want to listen when they don’t have anyone else who will. So, how do I give more of my time to them without compromising the quality of work I do at my job? I’m fairly confident this is something God wants me to sacrifice to do. I even tried to just go on a different day instead of Thursdays, only to find out the one particular girl they have in mind only comes on Thursdays.
Are you going to put feet to your faith Erin? Is what I hear God whisper to my soul. I’ve called you deny yourself, take up your cross and follow me. I’ve called you to be a living sacrifice. My flesh wants to cry out, “but God I’m so busy! You know how exhausted I am after teaching all day! What about my wifely responsibilities like making dinner? What about my down time? What about the fact that we only have one car and Josh might need it those days?” But, all these excuses fall short when I see him looking down at me from that bloody cross.
What about the price I paid to save you out love? What about the nails? What about the crown of thorns? Have I failed you yet? Have I ever not met your needs?
Well, He’s got me there, huh?
Ok, here we go Lord. I’ll see Ya next Thursday in Oildale.
When I first met Josh one of the most profound things that attracted me to him was his unwavering passion for the Gospel of Jesus. As we enter our 17th month (yes, month) of marriage, I am quickly learning just how all consuming this passion is for him. As an outpouring of this passion is an incredible heart for the poor. Never had I met someone so committed to this being an integral aspect of a gospel centered life.
My first encounters with poverty were on short term mission trips to Mexico in high school with our youth group. I loved sharing the gospel in this setting and yet this also reinforced that those truly in need were those outside of my hometown. After several short term experiences to Mexico, Uganda, Turkey, and Guatemala I became convinced for several years that God was calling me out of education and in to the international mission field. I knew God was calling me to share the gospel with kids who never have had the opportunity to hear it. In my arrogance, I automatically assumed that every child in the US had that opportunity and I had to go to some other country. I began to buy into the lie that poverty and God’s mission were “Out there.” The attractiveness of the exotic contributed to this ideology, only polluting it more.
It wasn’t until I met Josh that I learned of the true state of my little Dust Bowl settled town of Bakersfield, California. Josh knew that the Lord brought him to Bakersfield to serve and love the poor in our community. He knew that Kern County was one of the lowest per capita income regions in the United States. I, on the other hand, was completely clueless in my little suburban corner of the city.
I remember him driving me through poor neighborhoods, and explaining to me God’s heart for these people as well. I remember him telling me that God did not create us to isolate ourselves from our fellow Image bearers. They need Jesus to free them from their broken communities. How do we relate to such people? I remember thinking. He said that it wasn’t about an “us” and “them” mentality. “We all need Jesus. We need relationships with those of other socio-economic classes, just as much as they need us; such relationships make us more human,” he said. Gospel centered living means not just serving the poor, and sharing the gospel with them; but also about being in loving and authentic relationships with them. The scales were off and my eyes were opened to the reality that God’s mission field was truly everywhere, and that there was great need in my own town.
I could not help but repent of: my ignorance, my superior attitude, my mentality, and my naivety. Deeper still, I had bought into the cultural lie that a faithful Christian life was one that secluded myself and my family from the “least of these.”
Thus began our relationships with people in one particularly low income community, Oildale. My first experience was to serve a Thanksgiving meal at an extremely run down trailer park. I was unsure of myself, despite my international mission experience. How is it that I could so easily travel to another country, not speak the language, and boldly proclaim the gospel, but so ineffectively connect with my own people less than five miles away? Was it because now I wasn’t boarding a plane in a week or two? Was it because now I am actually required to build loving relationships, for the long haul? Was it fear? I was so convicted.
I remember that first Thanksgiving trying to socialize with the residents of the trailer park. All were in tattered clothing, unshaven, dirty, and quiet. They were so quiet. They didn’t want to talk or build any sort of relationship with the girl in the Old Navy jeans and sequin adorned t-shirt. They didn’t know me. For all they knew I was someone there to serve a meal and never see them again. In their eyes, I was the girl from the other side of the tracks, trying to make myself feel better by superficially taking part in their lot in life. I’m not sure such a statement was false.
Despite all this, I knew the gospel of Jesus. I knew that Jesus loved them. I knew that Jesus died and rose for them. This alone was my courage, if nothing else.
So I scanned the people, trying to make sense of who to talk to. Empty eyes looked back. Then I spotted a family that made my heart sink. There were two grade school children and an older teenage girl. Kids! Yes! I can talk to kids! I thought. Being a teacher, God has always gifted with me the ability to connect with children. So I introduced myself and sat down. I had no clue what to say. I sat awkwardly with the family and tried to make conversation.
With the adults, I got short one word responses to my prompts: “yes,” “no,” “mmm, hmm.” The grade school boy had a scowl on his face. I tried to break through the furrowed eyebrows. I got a bit of an in when I started talking about WWE wrestling, but couldn’t really follow what he was talking about. His sister seemed eager to talk and make a friend. Also, she introduced me to their teenage sister who was pregnant. Once given some attention, the young lady was willing to divulge a lot.
I remember thinking to myself: How do I, a 28 year old, Christian, virgin, single, college graduate, young working professional connect with an 18 year old girl who has found herself pregnant? Don’t say anything stupid, was my resolve.
To my surprise, we hit it off quiet well. I told her about Josh and how we met. She told me about her boyfriend and how they met. I asked a lot of questions about the pregnancy since I was pretty clueless apart from a high school health class. She and I ended up exchanging phone numbers and I was able to call her afterward.
That Thanksgiving began a new part in my life…Oildale: the place where low income descendents of Dust Bowl migrants found themselves. It could have very well been me. My family, two generations back, came out from Oklahoma during the Dust Bowl to work in California. If circumstances had played out differently, our roles could have been reversed. I remember Josh saying as we left, “Erin, these are your people.” Immediately the thought of “first to the Jews, and then to the Gentiles” hit my mind. God was showing me that Bakersfield was my “Jerusalem.” He was sending me to my own to share the glorious truth of Jesus.
We committed to serving at the Homework Club that some people from our church had started in the trailer park. Meeting under a tarp, hung on an empty trailer lot, we started helping kids after school with their homework: many of their parents unable to do so. We got to know the children and their families. We started attending the BBQ that other volunteers started one night a week. At the BBQ, the entire trailer park was invited for free and we would sing worship together afterward. Josh and I made a commitment to be with our friends in Oildale on a weekly basis. Over time, opportunities to pray, encourage, share scripture and the gospel have occurred. More people from our church got involved and have started Men’s and Women’s Bible Studies in the neighborhood.
Last year we spent Thanksgiving again with our friends in Oildale. But, the second year was in stark contrast to the first. We were laughing and talking with our friends in Oildale! I remember feeling like it was a family feast with a whole neighborhood! I praised God for the relationships that had formed.
Last fall, the church rented an abandoned building in front of the trailer park and has used the facility to operate some of the above ministries as well as a few other programs; all free of charge to the residents in the community. This past summer we had “Summer Church,” an evangelism ministry for the kids twice a week where each day the Gospel was shared. By the end, several kids came to Christ. Still today the kids, even 2nd graders, can tell me the memory verse from the summer: “This is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son, as a sacrifice for our sins.” 1 John 4:10. They have the Gospel in a short sentence memorized in their minds!
This November will mark our third Thanksgiving in Oildale. And once again, I find myself at a point where God is challenging me to grow spiritually all the more. I have been strongly encouraged by some of the volunteer leaders to commit to coming on Thursday afternoons to informally mentor some older adolescent girls at the Homework Club. In fact there is one particular girl they would like me to spend time with. I find myself struggling to make the commitment. Ministering to people in poverty is not for those who want to “get in and get out.” It means living life with people who truly struggle with sin. But, hey, isn’t that what we’re called to do as Christians-to make disciples?
The challenge for me is that I find that I can be someone who is overcommitted. I recognize that this very well may be an excuse. Being a teacher is incredibly demanding. To teach well often means to work longer than the hours required of you. It means preparing engaging and appropriate lessons. It means serving in leadership at your school and district office on committees. It means grading papers. It means contacting parents on a regular basis. And it means that my afternoons are often full of work commitments.
I see my role as teacher in public education also as ministry.
I want to meet with these young girls in Oildale. I want to counsel them in the Way of the Lord. I want to share the gospel with them. I want to listen when they don’t have anyone else who will. So, how do I give more of my time to them without compromising the quality of work I do at my job? I’m fairly confident this is something God wants me to sacrifice to do. I even tried to just go on a different day instead of Thursdays, only to find out the one particular girl they have in mind only comes on Thursdays.
Are you going to put feet to your faith Erin? Is what I hear God whisper to my soul. I’ve called you deny yourself, take up your cross and follow me. I’ve called you to be a living sacrifice. My flesh wants to cry out, “but God I’m so busy! You know how exhausted I am after teaching all day! What about my wifely responsibilities like making dinner? What about my down time? What about the fact that we only have one car and Josh might need it those days?” But, all these excuses fall short when I see him looking down at me from that bloody cross.
What about the price I paid to save you out love? What about the nails? What about the crown of thorns? Have I failed you yet? Have I ever not met your needs?
Well, He’s got me there, huh?
Ok, here we go Lord. I’ll see Ya next Thursday in Oildale.
