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Yet they had gathered for this prayer vigil. I had to believe that somehow, in this moment, heaven would meet earth.

Amid my fears, I prayed silently, "Jesus, what do you want me to do here?"

As I looked out over the crowd, I realized most of these scary-looking gang members were just kids, mostly in their mid or late teens, with some in their twenties. I was old enough to be their father. They had surely been told repeatedly by authority figures how wrong their actions were and how foolish gang activity was. But as I looked at these hurting teenagers, I wondered, What would the king say to these young people? I felt a burning deep within my soul to give them grace.

As the words poured from my lips, I could not control myself.I began to weep. I wept bitterly.

After introducing myself and stating the purpose for our gathering, I asked permission to speak from my heart. "Since most of you are half my age, I am the age of your fathers. Would you allow me to address you on behalf of your fathers?" All eyes focused intently on me. There was no stopping then. "I know you have heard plenty of times that this back and forth violence in our neighborhood is complete nonsense. You have heard it at school, at home, and by the many people with authority over you. You've been told how destructive gang behavior is."

Then I stared into their eyes and said some of the most frightening words I have ever spoken on the streets of our community.

"But today, on behalf of your dads, I want to say to you what should have been said a long time ago. My son, my daughter, would you forgive me for not being there for you when you were little? Will you forgive me for not being there when you took your first steps, said your first words? Will you forgive me for not being there to throw the ball around when you when were young? Will you forgive me for leaving you when you most needed me? Will you forgive me?"

As the words poured from my lips, I could not control myself. I began to weep. I wept bitterly. Tears ran freely down my cheeks. I had not planned to cry. I was making a fool of myself, completely exposed and emotionally naked in front of this hardened crowd of gang members. But to my surprise many of them responded in kind. They too began to weep.

Something special happened in that moment. A fearful pastor was becoming the conduit of heaven's tears. It was sacred. Jesus was there.

A similar event happened many years earlier when Jesus was overwhelmed with compassion for another city. "Jerusalem, Jerusalem," he cried. "How often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings … " (Matt. 23:37). Longing to reach his lost children, it's natural for a father to weep.

There are many who weep in my city, but that day I realized that we pastors have been given the special privilege to weep for our cities. We are called to weep on heaven's behalf. We are called to become fools for the sake of the king, to share in Jesus' ministry of tears, and to mourn with those who mourn.

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From Issue:Authenticity & Transparency, November 2013 | Posted: October 30, 2013

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Matthew Woodley

November 07, 2013  9:35am

Thanks, Paco. This is an amazing story of being a spiritual father/mother to the people we pastor. You expressed the Father heart of God in a tough situation. Thanks for sharing this story with us.

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