Yesterday was the famed “Thunder Over Louisville.” For those who don’t know, this is the largest annual air show and fireworks extravaganza in the nation. Somewhere around 700,000 people attended this year. I was working at Jeff. St. that Saturday morning and many of our homeless guests would stop and chat with me about it. One guy made the comment that his favorite part is that he can carry his bag around and not look homeless. That’s because everyone and their brother is carrying their junk to and from the massive shindig.
That small comment got me thinking about the fact that the emotional and social aspects of homelessness can be just as distressing as the physical aspect. The shame and humiliation from being labeled “homeless” can rob people of their dignity. As Christians, we must realize that being created in the image of God Almighty gives every person inherent dignity. Thus we must strive to treat each other accordingly
Something I’ve struggled with at times is how to make my homeless friends feel comfortable when we take them to church. Commonly when they meet new people some basic questions arise: “How do you know these guys?” “What do you do for a living?” “Where do you live?” For many homeless folks answering those questions is probably more painful than some of their physical strains.
Think of your response when you see someone you suspect to be homeless. For most people, the natural response is to look away or just find a way to ignore them. How do you think that makes a person feel? They must wonder, why are they so afraid of me? What is wrong with me? How terrible it must feel to be continually treated like a second-class citizen . . . or even worse.
The foolish, the weak, the lowly, and the despised . . . are these descriptions of the homeless? Maybe. But according to Paul (1 Corinthians 1:27-29), these are descriptions of the type of people the Lord has called. So maybe we’ve got more in common with the homeless than we think.
April 20, 2009
April 11, 2009
I'm a prideful punk
On Friday nights, our routine is to have a couple residents over for dinner. Tonight one of the guys, Bart, was a newcomer to Jeff. St. He’s still figuring everything out, including who Matt and I are.
We tried to explain that we are both staff and residents. We tried to explain that we are in the HOPE program and he is in the Fresh Start program. Bart was wondering if the HOPE program might be a better fit for him. A major reason for that may be that our apartment makes the average resident’s room look like a broom closet.
But this discussion caused me to feel a sense of pride and superiority. Part of me wanted to say, “Look, the Fresh Start program is for guys with mental illness and substance abuse problems. The HOPE program is for good Christian folks who want to help those messed-up people.” In other words, “You can’t be in our program because you’ve got too many problems.”
Although I didn’t say any of that, I’m terribly ashamed that this arrogant attitude raised its ugly head. The reality is I am a sinner, just like everyone else. And I don’t just say that because the Bible says so. I witness my own sinfulness every single day (my pride, for example). I’ve got very serious problems and am in need of serious help. Brennan Manning puts it this way, “To be alive is to be broken, and to be broken is to stand in need of grace. Honesty keeps us in touch with our neediness and the truth that we are saved sinners.”
The fact that I do find myself in the blessed position of being able to help others is only by the grace of God. “By the grace of God I am what I am” (1 Corinthians 15:10). I thank God for that. Yet, I cannot forget that I am in need of help as well. I pray I don’t forget this lesson on humility.
We tried to explain that we are both staff and residents. We tried to explain that we are in the HOPE program and he is in the Fresh Start program. Bart was wondering if the HOPE program might be a better fit for him. A major reason for that may be that our apartment makes the average resident’s room look like a broom closet.
But this discussion caused me to feel a sense of pride and superiority. Part of me wanted to say, “Look, the Fresh Start program is for guys with mental illness and substance abuse problems. The HOPE program is for good Christian folks who want to help those messed-up people.” In other words, “You can’t be in our program because you’ve got too many problems.”
Although I didn’t say any of that, I’m terribly ashamed that this arrogant attitude raised its ugly head. The reality is I am a sinner, just like everyone else. And I don’t just say that because the Bible says so. I witness my own sinfulness every single day (my pride, for example). I’ve got very serious problems and am in need of serious help. Brennan Manning puts it this way, “To be alive is to be broken, and to be broken is to stand in need of grace. Honesty keeps us in touch with our neediness and the truth that we are saved sinners.”
The fact that I do find myself in the blessed position of being able to help others is only by the grace of God. “By the grace of God I am what I am” (1 Corinthians 15:10). I thank God for that. Yet, I cannot forget that I am in need of help as well. I pray I don’t forget this lesson on humility.
April 5, 2009
April Newsletter
Greetings friends and family!
While working the various stations in the Day Shelter, we have the opportunity to converse and build relationships with our homeless guests. That’s the goal anyway. Sometimes I don’t feel like it. Sometimes I don’t want to give my time and energy to delve into their lives and listen to their stories. But sometimes it doesn’t matter what I want to do; folks open up anyway.
Recently, a middle-aged homeless lady, who I didn’t know very well, stopped by the front desk. I asked the polite, yet insincere question, “How you doing?” She replied, “Doing well today. At least I’m not sick. But I will be tomorrow.” I was puzzled by her statement and asked what she meant. I learned that she has cancer and was going to another chemotherapy session the next day. Homeless with cancer – how’s that for a combination? She continued to tell me that she was “ready to go, if He’d just take me” – meaning she was ready to die. We talked briefly about her faith in God and I told her I’d be praying for her.
Another day this week, a young man about my age told me that he was having suicidal thoughts. Besides his grinding homeless lifestyle and his frustrating inability to find a job, he now has a court date looming. He is losing hope. I tried to encourage him with the Gospel, as he is also a believer. I told him, as well, that I’d be praying for him.
As I was typing this up, one of our residents was hanging out in our apartment. At one point he interrupted me to share about his bad day and some issues that were stressing him out. I was again in a position to either show genuine concern or give the minimal response so I could get on with what I really wanted and needed to do.
What I’m getting at by sharing these three snippets is the fact that, probably more than any other time in my life, I’m in a position to respond to people in severe need. So my options are: to not respond at all, to respond robotically, or to respond with genuine care and compassion. This is one of the greatest struggles I have in living, working, and ministering here at Jeff. St.: caring about people.
In a recent prayer service, a pastor reminded us that we should not respond to people’s distressing circumstances with callous indifference. His words, “callous indifference,” have stuck with me. I fear that my time at Jeff. St. is wearing my heart callous and indifferent towards other’s pain.
No matter what our occupation, if we do it for long enough, it can loose its luster. Over time, we can become robotic and mechanical in our activities. If we are working on an assembly line or are doing accounting, that might not be a big problem. But when we are supposed to be ministering to people, particularly hurting and needy people, that’s a big problem.
We’ve been here over six months now, and the honeymoon is long gone. In many ways, what we do is not as easy or enjoyable as it once was. But I must remind myself that I didn’t come here to live a life of ease and enjoyment. More importantly, as Christians, we are not called to a life of ease and enjoyment. Instead, the Christian life is a life of hardship (2 Timothy 2:3) and sacrifice (Romans 12:1). Thus we are called to perseverance and humility. Perseverance: because life’s not always rainbows and butterflies. Humility: because life’s not all about us.
What's more, our perseverance must be of a particular sort. Our perseverance is not simply a mechanical continuation of the daily tasks that are required of us. Our perseverance must be a constancy of love. So I must love like my Father, whose love endures forever (Psalm 136).
• Please continue to pray for our homeless friends as they endure the harshness of their lifestyle.
• Please pray that the Lord would give us the perseverance, humility, and love that we need to minister to our homeless friends.
While working the various stations in the Day Shelter, we have the opportunity to converse and build relationships with our homeless guests. That’s the goal anyway. Sometimes I don’t feel like it. Sometimes I don’t want to give my time and energy to delve into their lives and listen to their stories. But sometimes it doesn’t matter what I want to do; folks open up anyway.
Recently, a middle-aged homeless lady, who I didn’t know very well, stopped by the front desk. I asked the polite, yet insincere question, “How you doing?” She replied, “Doing well today. At least I’m not sick. But I will be tomorrow.” I was puzzled by her statement and asked what she meant. I learned that she has cancer and was going to another chemotherapy session the next day. Homeless with cancer – how’s that for a combination? She continued to tell me that she was “ready to go, if He’d just take me” – meaning she was ready to die. We talked briefly about her faith in God and I told her I’d be praying for her.
Another day this week, a young man about my age told me that he was having suicidal thoughts. Besides his grinding homeless lifestyle and his frustrating inability to find a job, he now has a court date looming. He is losing hope. I tried to encourage him with the Gospel, as he is also a believer. I told him, as well, that I’d be praying for him.
As I was typing this up, one of our residents was hanging out in our apartment. At one point he interrupted me to share about his bad day and some issues that were stressing him out. I was again in a position to either show genuine concern or give the minimal response so I could get on with what I really wanted and needed to do.
What I’m getting at by sharing these three snippets is the fact that, probably more than any other time in my life, I’m in a position to respond to people in severe need. So my options are: to not respond at all, to respond robotically, or to respond with genuine care and compassion. This is one of the greatest struggles I have in living, working, and ministering here at Jeff. St.: caring about people.
In a recent prayer service, a pastor reminded us that we should not respond to people’s distressing circumstances with callous indifference. His words, “callous indifference,” have stuck with me. I fear that my time at Jeff. St. is wearing my heart callous and indifferent towards other’s pain.
No matter what our occupation, if we do it for long enough, it can loose its luster. Over time, we can become robotic and mechanical in our activities. If we are working on an assembly line or are doing accounting, that might not be a big problem. But when we are supposed to be ministering to people, particularly hurting and needy people, that’s a big problem.
We’ve been here over six months now, and the honeymoon is long gone. In many ways, what we do is not as easy or enjoyable as it once was. But I must remind myself that I didn’t come here to live a life of ease and enjoyment. More importantly, as Christians, we are not called to a life of ease and enjoyment. Instead, the Christian life is a life of hardship (2 Timothy 2:3) and sacrifice (Romans 12:1). Thus we are called to perseverance and humility. Perseverance: because life’s not always rainbows and butterflies. Humility: because life’s not all about us.
What's more, our perseverance must be of a particular sort. Our perseverance is not simply a mechanical continuation of the daily tasks that are required of us. Our perseverance must be a constancy of love. So I must love like my Father, whose love endures forever (Psalm 136).
• Please continue to pray for our homeless friends as they endure the harshness of their lifestyle.
• Please pray that the Lord would give us the perseverance, humility, and love that we need to minister to our homeless friends.
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