day forty: (un)finished!

We're finished with our Lenten culinary care! Well, kinda...

The last day of our Lenten practice was a good transition. We helped serve a meal with others from our church at Triune Mercy Center, a non-denominational mission church that ministers to/with the homeless. We met at the church to prep the food (and talk and hang out), then we headed to Triune to serve.

Getting plates ready to serve

The dining room at Triune

We prepared trays of plates in the kitchen, and (and here's the great part) actually served people at their tables. This was no buffet line or take-out. The homeless and hungry of Greenville are able to sit down and be served. 

It was appropriate, then, that many of the people from our church serving were deacons. Diakonos means "one who serves at table." They were living into their title in a very literal way.

After we finished serving, we set up Triune's sanctuary for the multi-church Easter sunrise service the following morning. And as we left, I thought, "Well...we're finished."

But not quite...

The next morning, as I stood outside the sanctuary after the sunrise service and spoke to those who had worshipped, I found myself in a conversation with Eric, who was homeless and had come to the service. There were about 30 people who were going to eat breakfast at Tommy's Country Ham House next door, and I couldn't stop myself from inviting him to eat with us.

I went and sat down, and even then was thinking, "Why did I do this? I just want to have a nice breakfast with my church people, with Suzy and the baby. I just want to have a normal conversation. I'm finished with this Lenten thing...so why did I invite him over?"

I guess I wasn't finished after all. After forty days of practice and discipline, I don't know if I can just "turn it off." 

So I guess these forty days served their purpose. Culinary care has become ingrained in my life and lifestyle. It looks like I will never really be finished. 

Or, to put it another way, I will always be un-finished.

day twenty-three: good intentions

Lately, despite our good intentions, nothing seems to go as planned.

At the beginning of the day today, we intended on taking dinner to a young couple who are struggling with cancer. But good intentions weren't enough today...

As I walked down the street to Coffee Underground this morning (great place, by the way...one of my favorites in town), I passed a guy on a bench. He was smoking a cigarette, wearing old jeans, a ragged looking shirt, dirty shoes, and carrying a backpack. I stopped and offered to buy him a cup of coffee at the coffeehouse. He said, "Actually, that's where I'm headed." And a few minutes after I walked in, so did he.

I had good intentions to be kind a homeless guy. Instead I think I insulted a hipster.

(If you need a refresher on how to tell the difference, check out this video clip.) 

We ended up having to rework our plans to take dinner to the couple because of a young adult church event. (We're taking them dinner later in the week, when we can actually spend time with them.) Since it was such late notice, we thought we would donate to Heifer International instead. But alas...our good intentions were subject to change.

As we picked up ingredients for tomorrow's project at the grocery store, we noticed a small piece of paper next to the register: "Food for Sharing."

Food for Sharing. "Food is Love."

It was surprisingly simple. As we checked out, the cashier just punched in how much to add to our bill ($4.69 for Bronze level, $9.62 for Silver, $14.84 for Gold), and the appropriate items were donated to a local food bank. We went for Gold, which meant the following items were donated:
- Plumrose canned ham
- 2 cans Starkist tuna
- 1 lb Publix long-grain rice
- Publix fruit cocktail
- Publix cut green beans
- Publix grape jelly
- Publix peanut butter

We had good intentions when we started the day today. But we had no intention of doing the good we ended up doing.

So here's the revised calendar of what we intend to do. I'm sure will change at some point, despite (or maybe even because of) our good intentions:

18	19	20	21	22	23	24
	Pay extra at grocery store to donate food to food banks	Make breakfast for ministers at church	Provide fertilizer for Travelers Rest High School organic garden	Make dinner for couple struggling with medical issues	Give out bags of sugar-free candy at nursing homes
25	26	27	28	29	30	31
	Donate money to Heifer International	Take snacks/coffee for police officers	Leave dollars in vending machines	Volunteer at United Ministries	Donate food to Harvest Hope

Sunday	Monday	Tuesday	Wednesday	Thursday	Friday	Saturday
1	2	3	4	5	6	7
				Provide  homemade communion elements for Maundy Thursday service		Volunteer at Triune Mercy Center preparing and serving a meal

day twenty-one: under the bridge

"What is the kingdom of God like? And to what should I compare it?...To what should I compare the kingdom of God?" (Luke 13:18, 20)

Jesus often started parables this way, and would then compare the kingdom to something from everyday life: a seed that grows into a tree, or yeast that leavens a batch of flour.

What I experienced today, however, seemed anything but everyday. By 11:30 this morning, I was under a bridge in a tent village of homeless addicts. Tom, a counselor I visited at the Greenville Rescue Mission (see day seventeen) invited me to tag along on his Friday afternoon visits and to bring some bag lunches.

Suzy and I set up a little assembly line in our kitchen on Thursday night to get them all done. But eventually we had twenty bag lunches made, each with a PB&J sandwich, a bag of potato chips, an apple, and a bottle of water.

Ready for delivery

I met Tom at the mission and we headed towards the bridge. We turned off the road, hopped a curb, and drove down what wasn't much more than a dirt path paralleling some train tracks until we reached a clearing underneath the footings of the bridge. There were about a dozen tents scattered around in various states of disrepair, most with holes in them or tarps over them.


We first met Adam, who was still in his tent and still high, drunk, or both from the night before. He immediately tore into the bag of food and gave us the latest news from the camp. "He got arrested last night. I don't think anyone's staying in his tent." "He's making meth (but don't tell nobody)." "He's not here. He's working somewhere."

Adam walked with us around the camp as we left bags of food outside the tents of people who weren't there or were still asleep. I pictured these bags being like manna, a simple gift of food that appeared in the morning (or afternoon, as the case may be...whenever they woke up).

He walked us across a small creek to see Nicki, who was also awake. She and Adam shared a hug and a cigarette while she got her stuff together to leave for the day. Tom talked to Adam about getting some help and I talked with Nicki. She asked me about what I do and seemed genuinely surprised to learn that I was a minister (which kind of made me feel ashamed to be one, and that more ministers didn't come out here, including myself). Seeing her and Adam interact, and talking to Tom about the other people in the "village," I found myself thinking about how close this community must be, if for no other reason than simply to survive.

We got in the car and turned a few more corners so we could go to another camp on the other end of the bridge. We saw more tattered tents, some tucked up under the overpass of the bridge, and even a rough shelter made with scrap plywood. We got to meet Dierdre, Barry, and someone I recognized - Clarence, who we gave a gift card to just yesterday (he was one of the two guys walking across the parking lot, and he recognized me, too!). Tom and I talked with them, listening to their struggles, particularly where they would go when they get kicked out of that location. (The city has given them a deadline of March 23rd to be out.)

After trying to get them some help, Tom asked each of them how he could pray for them and then led us in a prayer. And right there, standing under that bridge, holding hands and offering our hurts and hopes to God, I felt like I was actually doing God's work...what Jesus would have done. I felt like I was right where God would want me to be, where Christ would be - participating in God's community here on earth, even under a bridge.

"What is the kingdom of God like? And to what should I compare it?" 

The kingdom of God is like a tent village of homeless addicts living under a bridge...

day three: phil

Today did not go as planned.

Suzy and I had initially decided that we were going to take sugar-free candy to nursing homes. Didn't happen...because we've also had some new people move into houses on our street, and we wanted to take them cookies to welcome them to the neighborhood. Didn't happen...because we met Phil.

We went to lunch at Stax's Original on Poinsett Highway, and as we were walking in we noticed a man sitting on the curb in the parking lot. You've seen the type before: beard, backpack, dirty. If we hadn't made this Lenten commitment, I doubt we would have said or done anything. We probably would have thought about talking to him or offering him a meal, but I doubt that either of us would have vocalized it, much less actually have done it. But...

A typical meal at Stax's Original

When I walked back outside, I went up to the man and asked if he was doing OK. He said, "I woke up this morning. That's better than the alternative." I chuckled and said, "That's true." But I also realized that his response might not just be a witty answer to a trite question, but a scary possibility he faces when he goes to sleep each night.

After we introduced ourselves, I asked him if he had anything for lunch and invited him to join us inside. He declined, saying that he wasn't really comfortable around crowds, so I took his "to-go" order instead. While we waited for his BLT and fries, Suzy and I talked about how we could be as relational as possible and treat Phil like a "real person." How ridiculous is it that we have to have a conversation about how to treat another human being like a human being? And even so, as we talked we realized that we were using words like "they" and "them" to describe people who are hungry or homeless or both. "They're just like us." Even with our good intentions, our hypocrisy was evident.

When I brought it back out to him, he was standing and seemed ready to leave. We chatted for a minute. I asked him where he was from.
He shrugged. "All over."
I asked where he was headed.
"You know, I don't really know where I'm going."
I asked if he had somewhere to stay tonight.
He told me he had a tent in the woods behind the Lowe's just up the road and asked me if it was going to rain. I said I didn't think it would, at least not much.

Before he walked away, I offered a simple prayer for the food and for Phil. But "giving thanks" for a meal doesn't feel the same when you're praying with someone for whom the food we're about to eat might be the only he has all day. I went back inside, Phil went back to his tent (so I assume), and I have no idea what will happen to him or where he'll go.

As Suzy and I were planning this Lenten commitment, I told her that I was worried that if we scheduled something for each day, we would not have room for more spontaneous acts. I was wrong.

None of us really knows where we're going; not if we will let ourselves be interrupted and follow the detours that God graciously offers us, detours that lead us in "roundabout ways that end up in the right direction" (as Harold Kushner translates Psalm 23).

Today certainly did not go as planned. But it did end up in the right direction. Thank God.