The Light Project:
Stories of God’s Illuminating Grace
God works in the most mysterious ways and in the most unexpected places. The city of Pontiac, Michigan is one of those places. Often associated with darkness, pain, and strife, most would not expect stories like the ones told here to be stories of that city. Truthfully, they contain darkness, pain, and strife, but they also demonstrate the rich glory, abundant grace, and transforming mercy of our Heavenly Father. And without darkness, can we truly appreciate the light?
I invite you to come alongside each of the brave individuals sharing their stories here. As they take you to the depths of the valleys and the peaks of the mountains that make their journey uniquely their own, it is my prayer that you will both find hope and marvel at the handiwork of the One who authors each and every story of The Light Project.
We have to turn back and face the radical, illogical, sacrificial love demonstrated at the cross. Like the disciple Thomas, we have to face our sin and the wounds it caused so that we may remember why He endured so much pain and suffering. When we remember, we see the depth of His love; that while we were still sinners, He died for us. While we were addicted to drugs, alcohol, and unhealthy relationships and wanted nothing to do with Him, He died for us. While we wait in uncertainty, while we are desperate for answers, He continues to die for us. And He dies for us time and time again when we turn our eyes away from His love because we are confused, doubtful, and angry.
But we cannot turn back until we have peeled back every layer of unbelief.
I am unable to properly express the emotions I experience when I think about how this church--my church--has changed my life and the lives of my daughters. What started as a phone call about volunteering has yielded substantial and unexpected blessing. It seems insufficient to use any word that I know or could find upon searching to describe what I feel in my heart,
which is precisely the same thing that happens when I try to speak of the love of God.
For decades, her life consisted of drugs, theft, arrests, prison, and probation. Nothing that was a part of her world could break the chains that held her captive. And after living that way for so long, it had almost become comfortable for her.
In 2010, everything changed.
On Sunday mornings, Alexandra expected to be beaten.
Whether it was being struck with a belt, a metal cane, or an extension cord; pummels to the knuckles with the handle of butter knives; or the hyperextension of each of her fingers, Alexandra knew that she would suffer at the hands of her adoptive mother in some way. And she knew that immediately afterward, she would be primped to perfection and sent off to church as if none of it had ever happened.
With so many societal pressures to be different than God calls us to be, to conform to a mold fabricated by a mixture of influence from the media, our culture, and our insecurities, the challenge Patrice faces to serve God in the ways she does would make most of us stop before we even truly considered starting.
Amid that awe, there is another question, a question I have heard asked outright and have seen concealed within words of anguish, perplexity, and distress:
Where did God go?
Did He flee before the first confirmed case in China? Did He sneak away in the night as the virus passed through Europe? Did He shut himself off from our country as our people were invaded by COVID-19?
Where did He go?