About 13 years ago, my pastor prophesied to me and said, "You will seize prey right out of the jaws of hell." Since then, I have held that promise close to my heart. I've thought on this promise often and wondered, "God, isn't the neighborhood I live in right in the jaws of hell?" I knew it was, but I believed this promise meant something more specific than just living here among the people. One day, I simply said to God, "Lead me to the jaws of hell." When I prayed this, I meant, "God, lead me to those people who are in situations that are like hell on earth, the dark places. Lead me to the situations and bondages that no one talks about, where people will open up about the dark things their involved in instead of always saying, 'Yeah, I'm fine.' God, let me be there in the moment of tragedy and crime. Lead me to the places where the devil has people right in his jaws, needing to be rescued by the LOVE of Jesus and the Power of God."

I forgot that I prayed this prayer until recently when I began finding that God had me ministering in these "jaws of hell." When God had me start cooking for the young men (ages 18-25) on Wednesdays I didn't foresee what a simple plate of food would lead to. But since beginning to feed them two years ago, I have seen the open doors into their lives and their darkness that these simple plates have provided.  

Out of these many young men that come through on Wednesdays, there are always ones that God causes to stand out to me and puts on my heart more strongly than others. These are the ones that make my heart ache when I see them living how they do, or when I hear that they are put in prison, involved in criminal activity or have died a young death. Two weeks ago, I was given some sad news about one of these precious young men who regularly came on Wednesdays. I will call him Christian. Through reading a news article, I found out that he murdered his girlfriend and then took his own life. When I found this out, my heart felt like a brick was dropped on it. I can't say that I know what it's like to be a mother of a child who you have given birth to, but these young men are sons to me. They are sons of my heart and sons of my prayers.

Two weeks before Christian's death, God had connected me on a deeper level to his family. I have known them for a while, but through an open door, another minister friend of mine and I were able pray for his grandmother and uncles. We spent a chunk of time, just being there in the home and praying for healing of their bodies. The second time we went to visit this family, Christian was there for a moment, this was the last time I saw him a few days before his death.

I attended his funeral with some other friends of mine. Most funerals I go to in this city are very heavy. All of the blame for death gets put on God. The people leading the ceremony say, "We don't know why they died, but God knows, it was just their time to go and God took them." A funeral is heavy enough to begin with, but when you are weighed down with untruthful words like this, it makes it even heavier. But, Christian's funeral was different. It was very sad, but also inspiring. A few male family members got up to speak and a running thread through each speech was, "Young men, it has to change, these deaths have to stop. You have to watch what you're thinking otherwise you will end up doing the same thing." As I listened, I felt like these older men were speaking the same words that I have been praying to God. When I saw him laying there in the casket, the heart that God had given me for him welled up inside, flowing out into tears. I walked to my seat and in every row I saw people from my neighborhood, John DeShields. Spread throughout the church, were the other young men that come for lunch on Wednesdays. I could tell that they were simply in shock. This was the third violent death of their friends in the last year and a half of young men from this neighborhood.

When I attend these funerals, I often think, "Is coming to these funerals doing any good?" But, yesterday I saw the effect that it has. One of the older men, who watched Christian grow up, stopped me as I was prayer walking. He said, "Much respect to you Rachel for coming to the funeral. That's cool." He then stuck out his fist for me to "pound it." This is a guy who I have felt disrespected by over the past few months, so this was a, "Wow, thank you God," moment.

This story is more of a pouring out of my heart instead of a solution to a problem. I just know that I want it to stop. I want to see these precious young men rise up and be ALL that God has called them to be. Even though they are involved in darkness and have broken lives, they TRULY ARE WONDERFUL. God has GOOD and ANOINTED plans for their lives. Even Jesus, while hanging on the cross next to a criminal, forgave him and sent him to Paradise in Luke 23:39-43. This was Jesus' last act of mercy for an individual before He died for all of us. He has mercy, forgiveness, salvation and a beautiful calling for the criminal.

I was recently reminded that Christian gave his heart to Jesus. There is a wonderful urban ministry called Streetlights that my church does in this same neighborhood on Saturdays. They were able to lead him to Jesus on January 23, 2010. Thank you God!

Isaiah 49:17-18, 22-23 (NIV)

 ¹⁷ Your sons hasten back,
       and those who laid you waste depart from you.

 ¹⁸ Lift up your eyes and look around; 
     all your sons gather and come to you.
       As surely as I live," declares the LORD,
       "you will wear them all as ornaments;
       you will put them on, like a bride.  

 ²² This is what the Sovereign LORD says:
       "See, I will beckon to the Gentiles,
       I will lift up my banner to the peoples;
       they will bring your sons in their arms
       and carry your daughters on their shoulders.

 ²³ Kings will be your foster fathers, 
     and their queens your nursing mothers......
       Then you will know that I am the LORD;
       those who hope in me will not be disappointed."