What Can I Pray For You?*

So my friend, who I will start calling John, is starting a class to help him get up to a 5th grade reading level so he can enroll in a GED training course.  This class meets far enough away from his apartment that he cannot walk.  He starts tomorrow.  I agreed to take him and pick him up this once, but then Wednesday we would figure out how he could get there by bus, because I cannot drive him every Tuesday and Thursday evening.  And I doubt anyone else can either. 

As I confirmed plans with him by phone this evening, it dawned on me exactly what I promised him I would do.  And I felt cold fear crawl up the back of my spine and settle at the base of my throat.

Syracuse's south side is not somewhere anyone likes to be.  Shots get fired there in broad daylight. The location of the class is smack in the middle of this area.  John is nervous about this, though I've said nothing to him about this part of town being dangerous.  He asked me a few times on Friday if there were anywhere else he could take the class.  

 A white woman and an African boy standing around waiting for the bus (and clearly not familiar with what they are doing) shout to the ill-intentioned that open season has arrived.  There is no hope of us being inconspicuous.  I have been on the south side plenty of times and not been too worried, but I had my getaway car.  This time, I'm at the mercy of the worst bus system in the U.S. 

This is a situation that middle class white Americans do not often find themselves in: one where they are not in control.  John does not want to ride the bus to the south side of Syracuse any more than I do.  He will have to ride it twice a week, alone.  I can help him this one time. 

This requires that I set aside my self-sufficiency, whose symbol is my car (how fitting for a middle class American woman).  And that I muster up real faith that if God put this boy who put down his gun and walked for three days out of his country to get an education in my path, then we will get that boy his education. It's not faith until it's tested, right?

I want to ask you to pray for our safety on Wednesday.  But then I should ask you to pray for John's safety twice a week for the next 5 weeks at least.  I should ask you to pray that he quickly masters reading in English so he can make strides toward his GED.  I should ask you to pray for his success and all kinds of things for him.  

My family received a letter today from our Nancy, a child we sponsor through Compassion.  One sentence at the end of the letter deeply touched and convicted me: "What can I pray for you?"

You can pray that God will use my many resources for His good, and that I will not be stingy with them.  You can pray that I will have courage and faith.  You can pray that I will develop the kind of love God has for others.  The kind that loves African children just as much as American grown-ups.