The Homeless can be Heartless

We got burnt. As some of you know, our church serves the homeless a fantastic breakfast out of our tiny church office downtown. (See a prior blog, Jan.10, The Clueless Serving the Homeless.)
It's tiny, cramped quarters and at 7:00a.m. we open the doors and 70+ men and women come pouring in. Last week, one of them began making a scene and wouldn't de-escalate so I approached him and told him he had two options: calm down or he'd have to leave. He responded, "Oh, so you want to play hard-ball!" Time passed and one of our team-members saw him on his cellphone and 10 minutes later the fire marshal showed up, saying someone had complained about so many people being in a small space. This past week the fire marshal met with our pastor and determined that occupancy is 49. Our teams average about 10 people, so to be safe we now have to let 35 in while the others stand outside in the cold.

Yeh, it could just be a coincidence; maybe he was calling his mother to wish her Happy Valentine's Day. I confronted him privately, and, of course, he denied everything. He didn't acknowledge he had called the fire marshal; but neither did he claim he called his mother.

Why would you do that to people who week in and week out have provided you food and clothing? Why would you jeopardize your fellow-homeless peers by taking an action that could have potentially shout down the entire operation? I'll never know.

This I know. We will continue to serve him. Though he made a terribly misguided decision, he, nonetheless, still needs food and clothing. We began this outreach and will continue to serve not because of the warm, appreciative response or outcome but because (1) Christ has called us to do so (2) these individuals have a desperate need which we can meet.

At this point, I do not FEEL warmly toward him or loving of him. I want to shove him against the wall and scream, "What the hell are you doin', you ungrateul slob!?!") (Again, see my prior blog which will explain a lot.)

I have had this stark "awakening": my attitude of and desire for revenge is no different than his. My desire to take matters into my own hands is no less misguided than the decision he made. My anger is no less toxic than his.
So I back off and,instead, I DO loving things for him in spite of, at the moment, having loathing feelings.

Sometimes, those serving the homeless can be heartless, too.

The Clueless Serving the Homeless

I get up at 5:30 every Sunday morning to help feed the homeless. What are you doing that time of day?

I do it, not because I'm noble or loving, but because I am neither. It's not a calling; it's a corrective. I do it because I need it.

I hate getting up at 5:30 on any morning, much less on a "Sabbath rest" morning. My wife, on the other hand, wakes up singing "The hills are alive. . . " and I have to suppress the urge to permanently silence her melodic voice.

She and I are part of a team from our church that feeds the homeless every Sunday morning. She does it because she loves these men and women. I do it because I don't. My infatuation with myself is so entrenched that I do this as a means of ripping the attention off myself and making me consider someone else's needs. She does it because she has compassion; I do so, hoping it will create compassion.

I serve the homeless because it forces me out of my ever-expanding comfort zone. I'll always take flannel over frigid; the warmth of the fetal position under the cover of warm Lands End flannel is sweet comfort. The problem is. . . my whole life is quite cushy and comfortable, and there are millions who have no assurance of food or shelter on any given day, and as long as I keep them out of sight and out of mind, I would continue to cultivate my life of consumption and acquisition. Prying the remote out of my right hand and, instead, shaking the cold hand of a homeless guy keeps me real.

I serve the homeless not because of what I can give to them, but because of what they give to me. They are financially impoverished; I am not. Many of them are "rich" in spirit and faith; I am not. Consequently, I am blessed by their presence. Last week, as one of the homeless was leaving our crowded quarters he stopped and assured me, "You are in my daily prayers." Now I'm flooded with conviction. First, I don't have the discipline of a daily structured time of prayer. Secondly, I don't pray for anybody daily. I was moved by his care and humbled by the life he models for me. Third, he has nothing, no one, no place and I would think he'd be consumed by his plight. Yet he prays for us daily. Who is more like Christ here--the giver or the receiver?

Doing this makes me take that proverbial look in the mirror. Sometimes the look is an "a-ah" look; often, it is an "ooh" glimpse. To say that many of the homeless smell is not a judgment; it is simply fact. Serving them makes me take a hard look at and wrestle with that part of me that wants to recoil and distance myself from those who are dirty and smelly. Doing this causes me to check that initial impulse to bristle and, instead, greet or embrace.

Acqua Di Gio Man has to get dirty.

I also do this, not because i want to, but because Christ told us to. I wish he had commanded us to support the Caribbean economy Nov. through Feb. That I want to do. I have to believe that if Jesus urges us to do something his desire must pre-empt mine.

It is my hope that in the doing of this service I will, indeed, want to. I hope that serving the poor will progress from a conviction to compassion. I hope that these men and women will eventually see not a do-goder, but a Christ follower.

Acqui Di Gio Man is encountering a Brut world.