The Branch

Today I went to Vets Park in Downtown Grand Rapids, where every Tuesday a group of volunteers feeds hotdogs, chili, pb and j , desert, and drinks to hundreds of homeless people as well as anyone who wants to stop by. On my way, I was waiting at the bus stop with a women and we started to talk about where I was going. She had been there before and began to tell of how horrible it was and how careful I should be. She warned me that the smell of the homeless people was so terrible that it made her approach the point of vomiting. So bad she couldn’t even continue to eat. She then noticed that I was carrying a bag and proceeded to warn me that all of the “Crack Heads” down there would try and rob people so I had better be very careful.

At one point the women asked me why I was going to the hot dog lunch. I think she thought I just wanted a cheep meal. I hesitated a bit but then, led by the spirit, told her that I was a Christian and I believed Jesus when he said that it is not the healthy who need a doctor but the sick. My reason for venturing to Vet Park today wasn’t for cheap food. I can get a tasty burrito for two bucks at Taco Bell if I need cheap food. I went to witness the love of Christ being shared with the lost, hurting, and homeless. What I saw was the gospel of Jesus Christ being lived out by people who take seriously the command to love their neighbors as themselves.

When I arrived I took a walk around the park just to simply get a view of this event. There had to have been over 200 people there at the time, the vast majority appeared to be homeless. Some eating in the grass, others sitting on benches, and many others waiting in line for food. I decided to get in the line for pb and j but before I could even get into the line a young child, maybe 12 years old in a Chatholic School uniform approached me offering me a glass of water and calling me “Sir.” I accepted and proceeded to get in line. As I was waiting a man approached another man and had a few choice words for him. Thankfully they resolved the issue quickly and my blood pressure returned to a reasonable level. The women’s words at the bus stop had admittedly put me on edge.

I reached the table and was greeted warmly by a friendly volunteer who commented on how he liked my bag as he handed me my food. As I walked to find a spot to sit another child came up to me and asked if I wanted a cup of coffee. I declined, thanked him, and proceeded to find a place to sit. Choosing a place to sit at an event like was an intimidating experience for me. I came to show the love of Christ to others, yet I know if I look like some sort of religious person trying to make himself feel good about his life then I will have served no one. I felt the need to not be so much my happy and smiley self. Most people there did not have a smile on there face and so I didn’t want to stand out. I found myself wanting to be perceived as homeless.

I sat down by two gentlemen and introduced my self. They said hi and then continued to carry on what proved to be a rather crass and perverse conversation. I sat and ate my sandwich, taking time to watch and observe. There were white people, black people, women, men, children, old people, young people, all coming to be fed. While we ate, volunteers approached us two different times asking if we wanted more food.

After a while I got up and sat down by another gentlemen whom I had noticed earlier was sitting alone and was willing to make eye contact with me in a way that made me feel that he was open to conversation. I sat down next to him, made some stupid comment about the tasty hot dogs, introduced myself, and learned that his name was Everret. He told me he was nearly 40 years old, grew up in Florida, and has been battling brain cancer for the past six years. He lives where he can and has no family or friends to mention. He told me about how he is looking for work as a mechanic or roofer and how his father, who owned a construction company, moved them to Grand Rapids in 83 for work. I could see marks on his arms, he said from treatments at the hospital where he had to go this afternoon for further test. I wished him well and told him I hoped to see him next week.

What could it mean for someone who lives on the street to be served with a smile and addressed as “sir” or “mam.”

How powerfully can the message of Jesus Christ be spread by a simple act o service and love? I saw today that an act like this can speak in volumes.

Why does the Catholic church get to have all of the fun?? Why are so many people alone in this world?? Why are so many hungry?? Why are so many addicted?? Why are so many of us labeling the homeless and judging them without actually ever getting to know someone in that situation?

Why is it so easy to isolate ourselves and pretend like no one needs us to show them the love of Jesus??

Today I was reminded that following the Holy Spirit often times forces me to step out of my comfort zone and live into situations that aren’t necessarily all that safe or inviting. I don’t intend to believe that I can change the lives of those people but I know who can and I will follow him wherever he leads.