Graffiti Good Friday

Yesterday, on the way to my car, I noticed that we had been tagged by a new gang in the neighborhood. We have a large wooden fence along our backyard, and our garage is white and has two big surfaces facing the street and the alley. We live on a corner. We get tagged somewhat frequently. When it's on the garage, it's easy to take care of. Wanda gets a can of white spray paint and covers it up. When it's on the fence though, we've got another story.

After reporting the graffitti Wanda goes to the fire department to pick up a bottle of some "magic" soap that is supposed to be perfect at removing spray paint (ha!) Then with scrub brushes, hot water and the "magic" soap from the fire department we stand on the boulevard and scrub. and scrub. and scrub. and scrub. It is annoying, it sort of lightens the marks of the spray paint but it certainly doesn't get rid of the marks. The thoughts that go through my head when I see new graffitti are not exactly fit to post. I find it incredibly obnoxious.

I am in a Master's Program at Bethel Seminary in Community Ministry Leadership. Fall quarter we spent a few weeks learning about why young people get involved with gangs. I can tell you the risk factors and protective factors. I know why "Rites of Passage" programs are effective preventive tools.

I work in youth ministry in an urban church. One of the purposes of my position is to be a part of a caring community that gives youth a chance to belong without joining a gang.

I live in a house in the city and try to be a positive force in our neighborhood.

Yet. . .

When those punks tag my garage, when they tag my fence, I don't care if they've grown up without father figures. I don't care if they're feeling powerlessness or hopelessness. I am annoyed and exasperated. I don't care that I'm supposedly living here to be salt and light. I am ticked off.

But we picked up our scrub brushes yesterday. Wanda went out first, and I joined her after awhile. The weather was beautiful, a few friends drove by stopping to chat, and my scrubbing reached a meditative rhythm. I remembered the verse I was assigned for our Lenten devotion book at Park Avenue, "Create in me a clean heart, O God. And renew a steadfast within me."

My scrubbing became a reminder of the graffiti on my own heart. My pride, my judgment, my entitlement.

"Father, forgive them for they know not what they are doing."

Thank you God.

Happy Easter tomorrow friends. Lots of Love - Katie and the roommates