God has a silly sense of humor.
Lots of backstory this week.
First, my friend Jason spends a significant amount of time interacting with Cincinnati's poor and homeless. He introduced me to City Gospel's Chapel service. Basically, every evening, City Gospel provides a meal at 7:30 pm for those in need. Before that meal, everyone is required to attend a forty-five minute Chapel service. Various churches in the area take turns leading the service. Jason mentioned it might be an interesting stop for my experiment.
Second, last week opened my eyes to one unavoidable fact: I am uncomfortable around the poor and homeless. So, this week, I wanted to stretch myself. Sunday evening, I attended City Gospel's Chapel service. I honestly had no idea what to expect, but I was very nervous. It was dark, the service was located in a fairly rough part of Cincinnati, and I am a crazy germaphobe.
I am not proud of most of what I will say in this post, but it's reality. I was scared of catching something. Every time someone coughed or sneezed, all I thought about was germs filling the air. I even left my gloves on in case anyone shook my hand. I know, I know … it's super-lame, but it's the truth.
Third (and here's the silly part), I helped plant a church a few years ago in Clifton. One of the first attendees was named Doug. Doug eventually became a leader in the church. We were in a small group together, hung out on occasion, and I even visited a strip club with his wife (long story … not as creepy as it sounds). Doug developed a friendship with a guy named Anthony. Because of that friendship, Anthony eventually began attending our church. While there, Anthony committed his life to Jesus and got baptized. Doug and Anthony continued hanging around that church until the summer of 2009. They left in order to help plant another new church in uptown Cincinnati. That church happens to be another Acts 29 church. And … that church happened to volunteer the week of my visit to lead City Gospel's Chapel service.
It had been a long time since I’d seen Doug and Anthony. When I parked my car outside of City Gospel, I looked through its glass windows and saw both of them standing in the foyer. I believe my exact words were, “You've got to be freaking kidding me.” (I'm trying to eliminate cursing from my vocabulary, even while sitting alone in my car.)
I thought about going home. Not because I didn't want to see Doug and Anthony, but I thought it might be awkward. Then, I realized my presence couldn't be a coincidence. What are the odds? So, I got out of my car, and the adventure began.
The service at City Gospel is clearly meant to serve a specific population. I assume no one attends the service unless they are looking for a free meal, so I wasn’t expecting the red carpet treatment. I quickly realized I couldn’t get in through the front door, so I had to go around back. I felt stupid because I was scared of getting mugged. I even left my wallet and phone in the car in case I did.
Once inside, I made my way to the Chapel. It was a fairly small room with about seventy-five chairs. Almost every seat was filled. At first glance, it was obvious almost everyone was poor and/or homeless. I could easily pick out the people from Doug and Anthony’s church (Christ the King Church). I immediately spotted a seat near the back of the room.
That’s when I realized Anthony would be speaking.
Basically, Anthony stood up and told his story. Not my place to repeat the details, but Anthony has a great story of finding hope through Jesus. Lots of junk, an encounter with Jesus, and a changed life. More on that in a minute.
It was a tough crowd. A large percentage was high, drunk, or asleep. Those who stayed awake talked a lot. One guy shouted “Green Acres” at the top of his lungs when Anthony shared part of his country upbringing. He yelled so much that someone had to tell him to be quiet. Later, a phone rang, and someone shouted to answer it. The people to my immediate left talked to each other almost the whole service. At one point, I heard the woman say, “I prefer not to have sex with you tonight.” Ouch. Another guy in front of me snored so loudly that I could barely hear Anthony’s talk.
After Anthony finished, Doug prayed and asked everyone to meet in small groups. A member of Christ the King Church sat with each group and asked a handful of questions. In my group, the interactions went fairly well. The leaders did a good job. The group members talked a lot. Jason and I were texting about the experience Sunday night, and I wrote, “I think homeless people say what they think others want to hear. Well-intending Christians can get taken advantage of.”
And that’s what makes serving the homeless population so difficult. I never know if I’m being taken advantage of. I’ve experienced those meaningful conversations that turned out to be a scam. I’ve handed over money that I know bought the next bottle of liquor. Do most of us simply enable others with our feeble attempts to help?
I did enjoy hearing Anthony’s story. Partly because I witnessed a good chunk of it firsthand. Watching Doug’s friendship with Anthony was a good example of loving people the way Jesus loved the lost. Watching Aaron interact with Anthony was an inspiring example of pastoring. And watching Anthony get baptized was proof that no one is beyond God’s grace. Stories resonate. I am reminded of one of my favorite Bible verses from 1 Corinthians 3: “You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everybody. You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts.”
Bingo. Anthony is a living letter that others can read without ever needing to pick up the Bible. A changed life is almost always more interesting than words on paper or a carefully constructed sermon.
I am so thankful for the life I have been given. Good family, good friends, good job. I have a warm bed and lots of nutritious food. I never have to worry about going hungry. As I edit these words, I’m using my new laptop computer, watching a college basketball game on my high definition television, checking text messages on my Google Phone, eating a bowl of cereal, and looking forward to curling up in my soft bed. I don’t deserve any of it. Luck of the draw. These past two weeks have shown me how uncomfortable I am with poverty and homelessness. I prefer to ignore the problem and hope someone else takes care of it.
But that doesn’t seem very Christlike.
So, what do I do with that? What do you do with your blessings? What does the church do with its blessings? And how do the fortunate leverage our wealth and influence to help the less fortunate?
Why is it so tempting to hide out in my neighborhood and ignore the world’s problems? Comfort has become my mistress. Security is our illegitimate child. And apathy is our dog that keeps humping the neighbor’s leg.
JOIN THE CONVERSATION
Lots of backstory this week.
First, my friend Jason spends a significant amount of time interacting with Cincinnati's poor and homeless. He introduced me to City Gospel's Chapel service. Basically, every evening, City Gospel provides a meal at 7:30 pm for those in need. Before that meal, everyone is required to attend a forty-five minute Chapel service. Various churches in the area take turns leading the service. Jason mentioned it might be an interesting stop for my experiment.
Second, last week opened my eyes to one unavoidable fact: I am uncomfortable around the poor and homeless. So, this week, I wanted to stretch myself. Sunday evening, I attended City Gospel's Chapel service. I honestly had no idea what to expect, but I was very nervous. It was dark, the service was located in a fairly rough part of Cincinnati, and I am a crazy germaphobe.
I am not proud of most of what I will say in this post, but it's reality. I was scared of catching something. Every time someone coughed or sneezed, all I thought about was germs filling the air. I even left my gloves on in case anyone shook my hand. I know, I know … it's super-lame, but it's the truth.
Third (and here's the silly part), I helped plant a church a few years ago in Clifton. One of the first attendees was named Doug. Doug eventually became a leader in the church. We were in a small group together, hung out on occasion, and I even visited a strip club with his wife (long story … not as creepy as it sounds). Doug developed a friendship with a guy named Anthony. Because of that friendship, Anthony eventually began attending our church. While there, Anthony committed his life to Jesus and got baptized. Doug and Anthony continued hanging around that church until the summer of 2009. They left in order to help plant another new church in uptown Cincinnati. That church happens to be another Acts 29 church. And … that church happened to volunteer the week of my visit to lead City Gospel's Chapel service.
It had been a long time since I’d seen Doug and Anthony. When I parked my car outside of City Gospel, I looked through its glass windows and saw both of them standing in the foyer. I believe my exact words were, “You've got to be freaking kidding me.” (I'm trying to eliminate cursing from my vocabulary, even while sitting alone in my car.)
I thought about going home. Not because I didn't want to see Doug and Anthony, but I thought it might be awkward. Then, I realized my presence couldn't be a coincidence. What are the odds? So, I got out of my car, and the adventure began.
The service at City Gospel is clearly meant to serve a specific population. I assume no one attends the service unless they are looking for a free meal, so I wasn’t expecting the red carpet treatment. I quickly realized I couldn’t get in through the front door, so I had to go around back. I felt stupid because I was scared of getting mugged. I even left my wallet and phone in the car in case I did.
Once inside, I made my way to the Chapel. It was a fairly small room with about seventy-five chairs. Almost every seat was filled. At first glance, it was obvious almost everyone was poor and/or homeless. I could easily pick out the people from Doug and Anthony’s church (Christ the King Church). I immediately spotted a seat near the back of the room.
That’s when I realized Anthony would be speaking.
Basically, Anthony stood up and told his story. Not my place to repeat the details, but Anthony has a great story of finding hope through Jesus. Lots of junk, an encounter with Jesus, and a changed life. More on that in a minute.
It was a tough crowd. A large percentage was high, drunk, or asleep. Those who stayed awake talked a lot. One guy shouted “Green Acres” at the top of his lungs when Anthony shared part of his country upbringing. He yelled so much that someone had to tell him to be quiet. Later, a phone rang, and someone shouted to answer it. The people to my immediate left talked to each other almost the whole service. At one point, I heard the woman say, “I prefer not to have sex with you tonight.” Ouch. Another guy in front of me snored so loudly that I could barely hear Anthony’s talk.
After Anthony finished, Doug prayed and asked everyone to meet in small groups. A member of Christ the King Church sat with each group and asked a handful of questions. In my group, the interactions went fairly well. The leaders did a good job. The group members talked a lot. Jason and I were texting about the experience Sunday night, and I wrote, “I think homeless people say what they think others want to hear. Well-intending Christians can get taken advantage of.”
And that’s what makes serving the homeless population so difficult. I never know if I’m being taken advantage of. I’ve experienced those meaningful conversations that turned out to be a scam. I’ve handed over money that I know bought the next bottle of liquor. Do most of us simply enable others with our feeble attempts to help?
I did enjoy hearing Anthony’s story. Partly because I witnessed a good chunk of it firsthand. Watching Doug’s friendship with Anthony was a good example of loving people the way Jesus loved the lost. Watching Aaron interact with Anthony was an inspiring example of pastoring. And watching Anthony get baptized was proof that no one is beyond God’s grace. Stories resonate. I am reminded of one of my favorite Bible verses from 1 Corinthians 3: “You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everybody. You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts.”
Bingo. Anthony is a living letter that others can read without ever needing to pick up the Bible. A changed life is almost always more interesting than words on paper or a carefully constructed sermon.
I am so thankful for the life I have been given. Good family, good friends, good job. I have a warm bed and lots of nutritious food. I never have to worry about going hungry. As I edit these words, I’m using my new laptop computer, watching a college basketball game on my high definition television, checking text messages on my Google Phone, eating a bowl of cereal, and looking forward to curling up in my soft bed. I don’t deserve any of it. Luck of the draw. These past two weeks have shown me how uncomfortable I am with poverty and homelessness. I prefer to ignore the problem and hope someone else takes care of it.
But that doesn’t seem very Christlike.
So, what do I do with that? What do you do with your blessings? What does the church do with its blessings? And how do the fortunate leverage our wealth and influence to help the less fortunate?
Why is it so tempting to hide out in my neighborhood and ignore the world’s problems? Comfort has become my mistress. Security is our illegitimate child. And apathy is our dog that keeps humping the neighbor’s leg.
JOIN THE CONVERSATION
