When God allows me to be a part of blessing someone else, I'm never sure how much of that stuff to tell others about. Or, more accurately, I'm not really sure how to tell others in a way that truly glorifies Him without making it seem like it's just a little about me.
Because it's not about me. Not at all. At least, to me it's not about me. And, I don't want it to be about me to anyone else. But, I do really, really, really want to share the wonderful things I've been seeing God do for the people around me.
So - here goes. I'll be typing with mostly my right hand, so please don't tell my left hand what all I've had to say. Remember - this is not about me. If anything, I'd like this blog post to make you think about God in His infinite love and mercy, but also about YOU - and the role you have to play in helping people come to know Him.
For several weeks an amazing, awesome, rag-tag group of people from my town have been allowing me to accompany them to Omaha to serve food and hand out warm clothes to the men at a homeless shelter. This is, really, my first experience with homeless people. (I'm a little embarrassed to admit that.)
My first day I was pretty jumpy, and I didn't know what to expect. I mean, I was pouring syrup and doling out peanut butter onto warm pancakes from behind a table, so it's not like I was exactly getting up-close-and-personal or anything. Still - every loud interaction, every brusque tone, every sideways glance kind of set me on edge. I'm ashamed to say it, but I was honestly anticipating a knife fight to break out between two strung out bums at any moment.
(Yes - I'm cringing just as much as you are that I really thought that.)
What I have discovered over these past many weeks, however, is that these guys are just, well... guys. They're just people. Some of them are rude and cranky. A few are even openly hostile (for a myriad of reasons). But, for the most part, they're just people like you and me. They can't help but return a smile or a hug when one is offered. They say, 'please' and 'thank you'. They've usually got a funny joke or story to tell, and they're grateful when you take the time to care about them.
Oh, and they're hungry for the Lord.
I don't care whether someone lives in the biggest house in town, or in a tent by the railroad tracks - they were created in God's image. And, as such, there is something in them that longs to know their creator.
Usually, I'm just the lady behind the table with the funny hat. (See the pictures below if you don't believe me.) But, today, we got the chance to go inside the building and hang out with the guys at the day house. Because of the crowding due to the cold temperatures, it was (quite literally) an opportunity to rub shoulders with these men. I didn't really know anyone's names, but I had come to recognize a lot of faces over the weeks. Apparently they recognized my face too, and the fact that I had offered them smiles, syrup, and the occasional, 'God bless you.'
Those things alone would never have been enough to forge a relationship that transcended all of our vast differences in order to build trust and a level of intimacy between us. But, combined with the burning desire inside their souls to know God, it was sufficient.
It started with one man who came to me, a bit shyly, and quietly said, "I have a question..."
He showed me a page from a religious magazine, stating that after Jesus ascended He was a spiritual being in Heaven.
"So, does that mean He wasn't really human?" the man asked, his head cocked and eyebrows raised.
We talked quietly, amid the chaos and crowds, about the fact that Jesus is seated in Heaven with God as a spirit, but that He truly was 100% human while on Earth, and really did know the realities of life as a person - just like us. This seemed to be an important point to this homeless man - a way to connect with an otherwise unrelatable God.
He had no more than turned away when someone else tapped me on the shoulder, and began the same way:
"I have a question..."
As I walked the ten feet or so between the table I had been standing at and the door, I was stopped by several men today, each of them with a different question about God. I could tell that others were listening intently, curious about I had to say.
One man had been to Bible college briefly, and his eyes lit up at the chance to discuss the scriptures- clearly a topic near and dear to his heart. I found out that he didn't have a Bible, and I offered him one of the Gideon New Testaments that I always keep with me. From all the way at the other end of the eight-foot table, another man - who I didn't even know had been listening - quietly asked if he could have one too.
Not everyone was eager to talk about Jesus, of course. Most of them were more concerned with finding a seat in the crowded room or getting a hold of the classified ads from the paper. One gentleman was even hostile to me - vehemently telling me that as a Muslim he didn't believe in my Jesus. How could someone be God, and let other people kill him? To him, the story made no sense. Yet, before I left, he grabbed my hand, told me he could tell I was a woman of God, and allowed me to give him the last copy of my New Testament, promising he'd look it over so we could continue the conversation next time I was there.
There were other men with questions, I could tell, but our group was leaving, so I headed out to the bitterly-cold courtyard area to help load the vans. I stopped for a moment to watch a homeless man dole out little bits of a piece of bread he'd been given to the birds. As I stood there, I suddenly felt someone at my shoulder.
"I bet you wonder why he's doing that, don't you?" He asked. I didn't recognize him - neither from the pancake lines in weeks past, nor from any conversations I'd had that day.
"Actually, I was just thinking about what a beautiful act of mercy it was for that man to feed the birds, when he himself has so little," I replied.
There was silence for a moment, and I turned to look at the man beside me.
He was sober, and swallowed hard before he spoke.
"I don't know why, but I feel like I'm supposed to come and talk to you," he said. All of the typical toughness and posturing that is so necessary for survival as a homeless person dropped away, and he became very, very vulnerable.
"Well, what do you think we're supposed to talk about?" I asked. (Yes - I know... it probably wasn't the best response, but it's what came to me. Maybe I'll do better next time.)
He swallowed again, and rubbed the toe of his worn boot against the ice in the courtyard.
"About the fact that Jesus loves me."
So that's what we talked about.
I told him that Jesus did love him, and asked if I could pray with him.
After I had finished, he thanked me, and wiped the tears away that had begun to freeze on his cheek.
(I told you it was cold out there. That, and I'm prone to long prayers.)
I had always believed - until recently - that it was wrong to 'push' my religion on others. That everyone had already had the chance to make an informed decision about their beliefs. That people didn't really want to hear about Jesus. Today was yet another reminder of just how untrue that is, and just how much God's creation will always yearn to know about Him.
The question is - will there be anyone there to tell them?
Look - I don't know everything there is to know about theology. I don't know all the answers to all of life's hard questions. And, I'm not perfect. No one is. (Except Jesus, of course.) But, because I was there today - just because I showed up - other people had a chance to get to know a little bit more about their savior and their creator.
God is that big - that He can work through people like me. I know He can work through you, too, and I challenge you to start being there in your own life.
Being there for your friends
Being there for your neighbors.
Being there for your family
Being there for your co-workers
Being there for the people in the biggest house in town.
Being there for the people living in tents by the railroad tracks.
Being there for the lovely.
Being there for the unlovely.
But, most of all - just being there, wherever God asks you to be.
Like what you've read? Want to learn more? Check out our website, or go here to make a tax-deductible contribution to our ministry. (Select 'Farrier' from the pulldown menu.)
If you're interested in contributing to the wonderful things this group of folks is doing for the homeless in Omaha, send me an email at farriersoffaith@yahoo.com.
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| This is someone's home. |
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| (I told you I wear a funny hat.) |
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| We are a motley but dedicated crew. It was 2 degrees F this morning. |
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| I am amazed at how many of these men have severe illnesses, diseases, and disabilities. |
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| This facility is at more than 150% capacity, and still not able to serve all those in need. |
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| One of our crew pets 'Handsome' a loyal companion to the folks who live down by the river. |
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