Playing Soccer as a way to do ministry

Matt's face was striking when he came into the house at almost 7pm. He was talking on the phone, his eyes open in perpetual shock.

His voice was unusual, raspy and deep. "Man I was seeing stars coming over here!". "You guys won?" I asked, amused. "We lost. We were tied by the end of the game. We had the option of going to extra time or penalties, for some reason they decided to play extra time!"

It was 94° outside, and they played soccer for two hours.

He immediately went to the fridge to get some orange juice to recover from his sugar low.

He tried watching t.v for a while, and his face of comical affliction reminded me of my Sims characters when I willfully neglect their basic needs.

The park was literally a hellhole. The field was uneven and the sparse grass spots struggled to cover it. The thing could have easily been confused with an immense abandoned lot. The only seats available was a miserable couch someone had abandoned there, which the guys covered with blankets to make it usable.

And then there were the young guys playing. They were full of energy. Most of them came from Central America. All of them seemed amiable. Some of them were gangbangers. 

I connected with some of them, playing with them for a while before the game began. At the same time I had this deep sense that a huge ministry opportunity was being opened for us.

Many hours later, when both Matt and I were at the house, I realized that I wasn't the only one with that sense.

"Daniel, I had this 'Holy Spirit moment'", he told me. I got closer to him, intrigued. "Yes, when I was playing with those kids it just hit me, there could be a ministry opportunity there". "I'm glad I'm not the only one who felt it" I responded with my usual smile.

The gangbangers who were playing were from a different gang than the "chili peppers". Maybe God is trying to connect us with these two prominent gangs.

Many of them want to learn English but are unable to go to night classes because of their schedule. They told him that if only they could find somewhere they could go to learn English that would fit their schedule, many of them would gladly go. Matt had the idea that maybe we can offer them English classes in the context of a Bible study. We'll see.

Who knew that playing soccer was a legit way to do ministry?

Photo Credit: ElvertBarnes.

What Does it Feel Like to Have a Normal Life?

It was a cold afternoon in December of 2010. I was getting out of college and meeting with a young guy who comes to our youth group. His brother, Marcos*, was shot a few weeks ago.

He was in the hospital, recuperating from a bullet wound on his back. He was barely able to walk with the help of crutches. He can't move one of his feet.

After meeting with Marcos' brother at mission street, where most of the gang activity in the city occurs, we hopped on the bus and headed over to the hospital where Marcos is. This would be the first time that I would meet Marcos.

Marcos' charisma was still shining through his smiles and his perennial jesting, treating everyone around him with great hospitality and warmth. After an hour, Marcos' brother and I leave the hospital and decide to go to his house.

"I don't think I would go to heaven when I die" Marcos' brother told me while we walked in the hospital's hallway. "Why not?". "Because of all the things I've done".

We got home, and his girlfriend was in the house with their little child. I was hungry and in need of burritos. "Let's go out and eat, I'll invite you". Marcos' brother was resting in his bed, not too excited with the idea. His girlfriend was, and convinced him to go.

"What does it feel like to have a normal life?" he asked me while eating. I am surprised by the question and remained silent for a few seconds. I looked at his girlfriend and their toddler, who was struggling to eat some chips with her feeble, stubby little fingers. If this is not "normal" than I don't know what else is.

"What do you mean, you do have a normal life". "No" he quickly answered. "I can't go wherever I want, you can", reminding me of how careful he has to be in order to not be noticed by a rival gang member. He can't be careless now, with a family to raise. He is not longer gang-banging and has an honest job where he is doing great. He's been recently promoted.

At one occasion during dinner, he raised his fist and offered me to punch it. I did. "You know what that means?" he asked me. "What does it mean?". "It means that we're friends now".

*Name has been changed to protect privacy. To see other posts about Marcos click here.

Photo Credit: Mike McCaffrey.