I want my heart to be broken by the things that break the heart of Jesus.

This statement which I have personalized is taken from the writings and preaching of Dr. Tony Campolo who I came to know, at least a bit, while I was a student at Eastern University.[1]

None of us can take on all the needs of this world.  We cannot, nor should we, allow ourselves to have Jesus' broken heart for every category of crisis that exists on this planet.  But we can choose one of those categories of crisis and allow our hearts to bleed with the Blood of Jesus and make a difference in that realm.

To that end, for the past couple of years, I have been visiting the people on the streets of Kensington, a section of Philadelphia considered to be the east coast bullseye of our nation's current heroin epidemic.[2]

I've discovered addicted and homeless human beings who are worthy of dignity, honor, respect, and love. 

I've sat with these people as they have stuck needles in the veins of their legs, arms, neck, and face in an attempt to self-administer their required "Medicine." 

I've chatted with them casually one on one and in groups in various settings from the sidewalk to Applebees. 

I've distributed bananas, water, pizza, clothes, blankets, and song lyrics.

I've visited them in hospitals and in jail. 

I've provided first aid items for wounds of abscess, ice for black eyes following "dates" that ended in violence and aspirin for toothaches.

I've assisted with four overdoses that needed Narcan.

I've given hugs to ladies as they leave for and return from their "dates."

I've come to know relatives who ache for the day when their adult child, niece, nephew, Mom or Dad will find their way out of their addiction and back to their family dinner table.

To date, of the deaths of which I know specifics, I've lost two to overdose, two to rape and murder, one to pneumonia, and a couple others to medical situations related to addiction.  I lost one who I knew a tiny bit just a week or so ago when she was killed by an out of control car who ran over her as she slept on her mattress on the sidewalk. 

Did you catch the message in that last paragraph?  I've lost more people to non-overdose addiction-related death than I have to overdose itself!

I want my heart to be broken by the things that break the heart of Jesus.

Throughout the preceding paragraphs, I've referred to these efforts as being my own efforts.  The truth is that chickenhearted Chris Battin would never do this stuff.  In my own strength, I would never have the nerve to casually walk under the bridges of Emerald Street and Frankford Avenue or down Kensington Avenue.  Through the suburban teachings of my youth, I would not ever have engaged in conversation with "those kinds of people," "those unfortunates," "those hookers/whores/prostitutes[3]," "those drug dealers." 

This is not me doing this.  It is not even me who found this outreach/ministry opportunity.  The storylines in my life that led me to this life changing experience are too long to share here and now.  Suffice it to say that God did what God did and here I am.

I wouldn't trade this for the world.  I just wish I could do more of it.

I want my heart to be broken by the things that break the heart of Jesus.            

What breaks your heart? 

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[1] "Eastern College" in my day

[2] There are many individuals and organizations doing similar things.

[3] Forgive me for using those words in my writings.  I despise those words.  I try to never use them but from time to time, I need to so as to make my point.  Each one of you who may feel that these words are your title is worthy of dignity, honor, respect, and love.