"I'm a hallelujah chick."

By Seth -


“This is fifty-five years old talking how the Lord kept me when I didn’t want to keep myself . . . I’m a hallelujah chick, and I ain’t ashamed of that.”
The only evidence that Lucy, the woman sharing this spoken word poetry on the street of Cleveland, OH, was telling the truth about her age was a dusting of gray in her hair. Her tone was bright, her words infused with passion, and—perhaps most surprisingly—her laugh carried not a note of irony or exhaustion in spite of a story marked by pain.
I encountered Lucy while on a mission to encourage the Justice Riders. It was the middle of the week, when the hours start to drag and conversations trend toward stale soundbites. The last Rider I planned to check in on was Megan Smith, a veteran Rider who’s also been an intern on our team.
Approaching Megan, I saw her in earnest conversation. When I attempted to take a picture, the woman talking with Megan did not, like many others simply ignore me. She instantly called me out. “What are you taking my picture for?” And so I met Lucy.
After I explained my purpose, her loud tone became soft as she said, “Oh, I see,” and seemed to genuinely reflect on my decision to take her picture. But after a beat, she instantly launched back into her story—of being young, getting pregnant, having an abortion, and carrying heavy burdens for years.
But Lucy’s demeanor was anything but demure. She joyfully shared her story—because it ended not with her sin but God’s redemption. Lucy said that she was saved by God and truly boasted in Him. For her this was not mere intellectual assent to the concept of grace. Lucy’s entire being pointed with elation to the One who’d saved her.
Zeal without knowledge is futile. But the knowledge of who we are in Christ should bring great passion—as it clearly did for Lucy.
I had thought it was my mission to encourage Megan. Lucy not only did that for me but also gave me enthusiasm for the road ahead.
Just before leaving, Lucy taught us a handshake she does with her sons. I’m still struggling to master it, but even my failed attempts remind me of her. And I can’t think of her without remembering her joy.

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