The Light Before We Land

The one actually doing said trying was a black man, probably about forty years old and a couple inches taller than me.  After pulling out my earphones, he explained that his name was Richard, that he had traveled here from Missouri (and was now stranded here) with the other man, and asked if I had money so they could at least get something to eat.  His friend was was white and a few inches shorter than me; one hand was bloody and wrapped in a rag, even though it looked like it had been stitched up.  (I think Richard also explained how that happened, but I forgot the details almost immediately.  I can be a truly awful listener sometimes).

I gave them the remainder of the cash that remained in my wallet, which at that point amounted to thirteen dollars (not including a few coins, which I couldn’t easily shake out with groceries in hand).  As I handed it over, Richard got this look in his eyes – the unmistakable look of someone who has just had an immense burden lifted from their shoulders.

Then he looked at me and said something I will never forget.

God bless you, man.  You’ve done more for us than any of the churches we’ve gone to.

And then they both turned and walked off.

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For several seconds afterwards, I just stood there in shock, groceries and wallet still in hand, staring off into space towards the spot where Richard was.  I just couldn’t seem to take his words as the simple expression of gratitude that they were probably meant to be.  I couldn’t even seem to pin down that feeling of warmth/fuzziness/satisfaction that usually comes over you after serving someone like that.  The implicit indictment was just too much to wrap my head around quickly enough to be able to save face in front of the other people walking by and giving me strange looks as I continued to stand and stare blankly at nothing in particular.

It was as shocking and tragic as it was unexpected.  Thirteen dollars isn’t enough for two people to walk into a Qdoba and each emerge with a burrito and soda.  How could that possibly have been more than any church had done for them?

Granted, I didn’t ask them what churches they had gone to, nor whether they were churches located here or in Missouri.  Nor did I ask what requests they had made at the churches they did go to; for all I know, they walked in demanding room, board, and medical care for the one mangled hand, all free of charge.

But quite frankly, the specific circumstances are more afterthoughts than anything else.  As Christians, we follow a God who will judge us based on how we served “the least of these,” because that’s who Jesus spent the vast majority of His time serving.  Over and over and over again we are called to follow His example in precisely that way (and I didn’t even touch the book of Acts).

So when two hungry and penniless people walk into the one building where we as Christians purportedly take the time to strengthen our individual and communal relationships with said God, why do we then turn a blind eye towards Christ’s commands?  How difficult should it really be for us to understand that at the least – at the least - they should be given a meal, the money to buy one, or directions to a shelter or a food bank?

I guess it’s more difficult than I imagined it would be.  I guess even a paltry thirteen dollars is too much for some of us.

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Most if not all of you who come across this post are probably friends of mine just coming back from Chapter Focus Week (do let me know how that went, by the way), and as such, I should probably apologize for adding something else to what is likely a very long list of things you are already trying to process.  I can take some solace in that regard since this post was not nearly as much informative as it was a simple and largely aimless rant.  Still, if this has only served to further confuse or exhaust or overwhelm you after spending a full week in study, I am sorry.  Come back and read it again later – or don’t.  It’s not like this is the last time I’ll be touching on serving the poor.

I’m still working on getting a skeletal version of two of the planned discussion series in order.  It struck me that a good place to start would be in dissecting the two most popular documentaries about religion (in secular groups) made in the last decade.  One is Jesus Camp, which follows a group of children raised in a fundamentalist church and chronicling what they learn.  The other is Religulous, which follows Bill Maher as he interviews people of a number of faiths (though most are Christian), asking questions, being …brash, and just generally acting like he normally does.

I’m thinking that it makes more sense to start with Jesus Camp – at least so when I get to Religulous, you (hopefully) have a better understanding of the preconceptions that most nonreligious people hold of Christianity and of religion in general.  But I may switch that around.  Suggestions are quite welcome, as usual.

And with that, I am off to play either some Team Fortress 2 (if the servers aren’t bogged down with people – double update and free play weekend!) or maybe some Plants vs. Zombies (if they are).