Cold

It's been way too long since I've posted anything. And that's kind of a problem, I suppose, and perhaps for two reasons: 1. I haven't been writing much lately in general, and 2. I haven't been living enough to have enough worth writing about.

Thankfully, I have something to write about now.

Last Wednesday was a very cold day here. I was walking back to the dorm from my 3D Design class, which is in a building that is off campus. By the time I started nearing the dorm, I was already losing the feeling in the tips of my fingers. About that time my phone started ringing and, though I am normally very bad about ever answering my phone, I pulled it out of my pocket and saw that it was my roommate. He cut straight to the chase: "It's just too cold today to let homeless people in Jackson sleep outside."

That's kind of a slap in the face, I suppose. Here we are: typical, middle-class Americans, bundled up in our jackets and complaining about having to be outside for just a little while before we are able to go back into our houses and thaw out. And yet, whether we want to realize it or not, the bitter reality that there are people that do not have a place to go to and warm up still exists.

Ah... Blissful, ignorant capitalism.... Where sometimes the American Dream for one man is the American Nightmare for another...

So of course I agreed to go along with him. We got into Jackson and started looking for people. It's kind of an awkward thing to do, really. For one thing, you're not sure what to do if you actually see someone. You kind of have to force yourself to say, "We're going to bring the Kingdom of God here," instead of, "They looked like they didn't need it; we'll keep looking." And for another thing, it's awkward to "go looking" for homeless people. And that's something me and Parker talked about in the car. We talked about our motivations. Is it right to "go look" for homeless people to serve, instead of trying to build relationships and friendships with them? We came to the conclusion that, obviously, building friendships across socio-economic barriers is most important, but that doesn't change the fact that if we were to try and serve someone who is in desperate need of help and that person found out we were doing it for the wrong reason, that person wouldn't say, "Oh, no. I'm not going to accept your help if you're doing it to feel good about it." The fact is, whether we are serving others for the right reason or not, it doesn't change the fact that people NEED to be served.

I say all of that because sometimes I fear that the American church is "waiting" to get all of their motivations in order before they go out and do something. And I believe that that is just the American church deceiving itself so that they don't have to stop being lazy. We don't need to work so hard to practice what we preach; maybe we just need to preach what we practice. We need to start actively trying to bring the Kingdom of God to the destitute places on our planet and I believe that, as we do that, the Kingdom of God will then start to grow within the destitute places in our own hearts.

So eventually Parker and I saw a guy in tattered clothing standing on the street corner of the bypass holding a sign that said "Nashville." The rationalizations set in: "He needs a ride to Nashville, not a room to stay in for the night." But we decided to put the rationalizing aside and talk to him. So we pulled into an old parking lot nearby and trekked up to the highway to meet him.

His name was Robert.

And he liked to talk.

He had a dog named "Moo" in his cart. He talked about how tough things had been lately. He was playing with his sign in his fidgeting fingers as he spoke, and I saw that the other side of "Nashville" said "Hungry," and I knew that we were doing the right thing. Robert eventually started talking about his religious beliefs. He had some beliefs that were really, really out there. But we just tried to listen understandingly. After standing outside on the highway with him for about 30 minutes, he finally agreed to come with us and let us get him a room at the nearby Days' Inn. When we got back into the car, I realized that I couldn't even feel my face because of how blistering cold the wind had been on the bypass.

And to think that he had been out there all day, and would have been all night.

So we checked Robert into the Days' Inn. He shook our hands, and said, "God bless." Parker returned the blessing, and Robert said, "Oh, he does bless me! He has blessed us all with the ability to just repent. That's why I'm so glad that Jesus came! He lets me turn from my past, and turn towards him. Baptism is about repenting, you know. Not just getting sprinkled, but being fully submerged and coming up to a new life in God. And I'm so thankful for that!"

I just smiled.

Parker and I got back into the car and bowed our heads to say prayers for Robert. I started to pray for him and how glad I am that God puts opportunities in our lives to bring the Kingdom here in someone's life, even if only for a night. And Parker prayed for blessings on Robert's life. And when we both said, "Amen," there was a knocking on the car window and, a little startled, we looked up and saw that Robert had been standing there the whole time. He had a huge smile on his face and just said, "Amen!"

Amen, God. Your Kingdom come. Amen.

Important

Last night I had a bit of a tough time deciding how to spend my evening. I haven't been doing so hot in my Medieval and Asian Art History class (imagine that...), and my teacher was offering a 100 quiz grade to anyone that came to an art show on campus. But at the same time, I knew that there the soup kitchen was, once again, calling my name. I was even going to bring a friend with me to the soup kitchen last night. After a lot of thinking about it, I knew that I needed to seek the things that are IMPORTANT, and when I asked myself what Jesus would have done, I knew that it would have been to feed people.

So I went to the soup kitchen. And was blessed for it.

I met Eric and Francis first. I had a really good time talking to both of them. I asked Francis if she knew Ms. Ida (from last week's post), and sure enough she did. "She's right over there, actually!" Francis said. She called out to Ms. Ida, who was out of my sight from where I was sitting, and Ms. Ida turned around and when she saw me she just lit up and waved really big. I went over to sit with her, and talked to her for a while. It was like a reunion with an old friend. It is so obvious that God is blessing me with amazing friendships in what the world would consider "dangerous."

When it was time to start serving the food, Jan asked Alan, one of the regulars to the kitchen, to lead a prayer for the food. I have never heard one of the men there "say grace," but it was one of the most real prayers I have ever bowed my head to. When he prayed for thanksgiving, you could tell that he MEANT IT. And the "amens" and the cries that went out from the people in that room as he prayed were moving. When he said the last "Amen," I lifted my head and couldn't help but smile. Then Alan came up to me and said, "I did 'Grace' tonight. Can I get some food?" And I was more than willing to oblige.

About halfway through the serving period, a man came up to me and said, "Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" I told him, "Sure," and he proceeded to pull me to the corner of the room, away from everyone else. He explained how he has been really low on money, and he has a car, but can't put gas in it. He was just needing some gas.

I'm not naive. At first I was a little suspect, questioning his real motives. But he explained he wouldn't take cash; he just needed me to go with him and get some gas. I rolled the thought around in my head, weighing out the perceived danger against the cost of discipleship, and told David, my brother-in-law, that I'd be going with the man.

We went to the nearest service station (I followed him in my car), and he pulled up to the gas tank. And what followed was heart-breaking. I started filling the car up with gas, and when there were just a couple of gallons in it the man shouted from behind the steering wheel, "Stop! Stop! That's enough! I'm not trying to hustle you out of your money!" But I said to him, "I'm not going to take you to a gas station and not fill up your car." He leaned out of the window and looked up at me and said, "God bless you." And I replied, "He already has. He bless all of us."

The man quietly and soberly said, "Yeah... He's a good God."

He told me the story of his family. He said that he had two heat strokes in a row, but had to go right back to work as soon as he could to try and support them. He said they were living in a motel right now, and that things were hard. About that time, the tank read "Full," and he motioned me to come to his window. He stuck out his hand to shake mine and said, "My name is Wayne, and I am so thankful for what you've done." I told him it was no trouble, and then Wayne asked, "Russell, will you pray for me?" This is something that I've gotten before, and I just said, "Of course I will!" And then Wayne just paused and bowed his head. A little confused, I asked, "You want me to right now?" Wayne said, "Yeah!" So, clasping his hand, we bowed our heads

in the middle of the gas station

and started to pray. There were thugs all around, blaring rap music out of their cars and, I was sure, looking at us really funny. But right there, on the spot, Wayne and I prayed. I prayed "Thank you" for our blessings, and that we would always use our blessings to bless others. At the end of the prayer I said, "God, we just love you." At this Wayne let out a loud, "Oh, AMEN!" Once the prayer was over, we just shook hands again, exchanged our "God bless you's" and went our separate ways.

I went back to RIFA on fire. I talked to some of the guys outside for a while, served food to more of the people inside. I met some familiar faces (Phil was there!) and got a big hug from Ms. Ida right before she left. The whole night, a man named George Hickerson was set up in the corner of RIFA playing guitar and singing songs. The people there loved it! George said they were the best crowd he ever played for. Lindsay brought Coby, the little 5 year old she babysat, back to RIFA this week. It was awesome to watch a 5 year old serving people, loving people, and even cleaning up when we were done. I think that that's the best way to raise a kid.

So a night of great prayer, an awesome "concert" (best one I think I've ever been to) while we were serving, and being together in community with friendly faces.

Somehow I feel like this is what Jesus meant. Somehow I knew that this was what was important. Somehow I understood that this was what offers purpose.

I guess I made the right decision.

Gospel

Last Thursday I went back to the soup kitchen. It's amazing how, even though I've done it a few times now, I argue with myself in the car over whether or not I really should go. Come time to go, I can think of hundreds of reasons to stay in Henderson. Going to the soup kitchen is something that makes me feel uncomfortable, out of place, and strange. But as I riffle through the reasons to stay, there always sticks out one huge reason to GO.

And His name is Jesus.

That's how it is for most things. We argue with ourselves and, in a way even, with God over all of the reasons that we want to stay. Sometimes the reasons sound legitimate, but we know that the truth is that they are all a facade, a mask, of the real reason deep down in us: to be complacent, to be lazy, to not change, to remain the same. We don't want challenge; we want comfort. We don't want strain; we want ease. But to fight that inner tendency is to seek the heart of God. To fight that inner tendency is to be willing to step up to the plate and, as Gandhi encouraged, to be the change that you want to see in the world.

Jesus is daring you to move.

And every time that we move, though it may be uncomfortable, it is always rewarding.

Things were pretty normal at the soup kitchen all night. There weren't a ton of people because Room at the Inn (a homeless-sheltering project that different churches came together on in Jackson, which I got to be a chaperon for this past Saturday night) had started, and many of the homeless were already gone. But there were around a hundred or so that came through. Most of them were all really nice and polite. There were a few that had had too much to drink or were possibly still strung out on some drugs, but that was normal. So as the night dwindled down, I decided to pull up a seat at the table of an older African American woman who was sitting by herself.

Her name was Ms. Ida.

Ms. Ida told me all about her family history. She told me about her daughter who still lived in Jackson and visited her sometimes. She told me about her grandson, and her great grandson, whom she was very proud of. She asked me several questions about my own history, which I opened up to her. We shared some laughs and some more small talk, and then Ms. Ida started talking about church.

Really, God?

It wasn't long before Ms. Ida was spilling out all of her religious ideas and spiritual views. But this was not some aged woman rambling on and on or going on senseless tangents about how she sees God; this was the Gospel as I hadn't heard it in a while. This was the Gospel according to a poor woman, who had lived a broken life, but still had reason to smile and have hope because of the great love that she found in God, and the love that He inspired others to have towards her, and her towards them. This was the Gospel coming from the mouth of one to whom, I imagine, Jesus would have taught it to directly in His ministry on earth. This was the Gospel from one who was blessed for her meekness, spirit-lifted according to her Messiah, and joyously sharing it with anyone who would listen!

This was the Gospel according to Ms. Ida.

I think that we all have a "gospel according to ." It's the way that we live our lives. It's the way we talk about Jesus. The story, the message, the idea is no different than originally written; but it is breathed new life into it, and put on display, by the way that we share it with others - hopefully assuming that we DO share it with others.

Ms. Ida challenged me; it was uncomfortable to sit with her at first, and it's uncomfortable now to think of the thoughts that she left me with. If my life is a Gospel, what am I telling other people?

No Thank You

I guess I have some catching up to do.

A couple of weeks ago I was back at the soup kitchen in Jackson. My sister has started working there too, and that night we decided to ride together. We weren't that early, but the people that had the keys to unlock RIFA were a little late. Which left us standing outside on the street with some of the people anxiously awaiting their supper.

And, to many people's probable surprise, they didn't bite :)

I met John, who was a very tall and thin blind man with a beard that looked like he belonged in ZZ Top. His friend, I think his name was Jake, stood beside John the whole time, with his arm linked to John's. John did most of the talking; he was a very friendly person. Jake just stood there sucking on the last dregs of his cigarette, quietly looking off into the distance. But when it was time to get to go in, it was Jake that I saw Jesus in. Jake was by John the whole time, never letting go, always slowing up for him, and watching out for his every step.

I think that, when I am blind, Jesus is my Jake.

We served out hot plates of lasagna to the delight of many of the homeless people there. But when I was done serving for a while and got a chance to sit down, I of course chose to sit down with John (Jake was nowhere to be seen after he had sat John down; I thought it was weird at first, but just wait to hear the rest). I was really enjoying talking to John when a stranger came up and sat next to me and him. He didn't look at me, but just started talking to John. At first I thought he was a volunteer because his clothes weren't too shabby and he knew John by name and spoke to him kindly. But then Jake came back to the table and sat beside us. I turned to Jake and asked him where he had been, and he said that he had been in the chapel (the small room adjacent to the dining hall) praying. At this, the stranger perked up and, after choking down some more of his free lasagna, said, "Praying.. Yeah right. If you believe in all that bull s***."

My first reaction was one of anger. I didn't say anything, I just tried to keep talking to John and Jake. But even after I left the table and went back into the kitchen, I couldn't forget what this man said. How dare he come into a Christian-run facility where good people serve him a free, hot meal and curse the name of the God that they are doing it all in, with no "thank you" at all!

That's an understandable train of thought, right? Until I thought about it more in coming days...

I have started to realize that I do the same exact thing as this stranger

every

day

of

my

life.

God gives me so much. And I think that that is the biggest understatement in the history of time. America is blessed beyond belief, and for some reason so many of us think of these blessings as being entitled to us. But they are NOT. They are gifts from Him, graciously poured out, and we consumed His blessings and, more often than not, turn around and curse His name by sinning against Him, despite His gifts, and at the very least we do not say, "Thanks."

That's a problem.

Later that night, I was talking to a man in the chapel who seemed to be very uncomfortable in a "spiritual" atmosphere. It was obvious that he was coming off of a high, and it was a little bit difficult to talk to him. But eventually he opened up about his spiritual frustrations, and began cursing religion. When I asked him what it was about religion that made him so mad, he replied, "Because they [religious people] don't see us as humans. It's like they don't even care. We're people, man. We're people!"

And I think that that's the answer to the problem.

God has given us so much. And I think that the best way for us to say, "Thanks," is to turn around and see the other human beings on this earth as PEOPLE, and bless them with our blessings for the souls that they are.

Say "Thank you" to God by doing something for someone else today. You may not get a "Thank you" in return, but in that state of not receiving any gratefulness you will be more Christ-like than ever before. He pours out blessings without expecting any return, and so should we.

Steve

Sunday finally rolled around again today. And you know what that means (if you don't, read the blog entry titled, "Tithe," before you continue on this one).

The collection plate.

And I don't mean the one that they pass through the pews either.

This morning, on my way to church in Jackson, I stopped at a gas station to pull some cash out of an ATM. I made up my mind that I was going to start giving more back to God, and I wasn't going to hold back on my "tithing" promise today. So I got a $10 out, bought a 98 cent cup of coffee, and got back on the road to church. I sat through class, I sat through service, and the messages were good; but I was waiting on the chance to give.

I was waiting on the chance to give back to my God.

And so the collection plate came around to me in church. I looked through my wallet and saw the $9 left. It was decision time; do I just put it all in here, or do I obligate myself to doing something more with it. I finally threw in $4 and kept back $5. It was a hard thing to do, because I knew that I was placing a yoke on myself that would later become uncomfortable. But it was also something I was looking forward to.

So after church, I ran a couple of errands in town. But before I went to my sister's for lunch, I knew I was going to have to find a way to give the $5 burning in my pockets back to God. And my opportunity finally came when I was thinking about giving up chase and just going to her house.

I saw a man on the side of the exit ramp holding a cardboard sign that said, "HELP ME, PLEASE".... Which makes me think, how many times have I sat on the side of the metaphysical road of life and had others pass me by... I couldn't pass this man by. I started wrestling within myself, thinking that I had to get to my sister's apartment on time, thinking that it was going to be too much of a hassle, thinking that $5 wasn't going to do anything. But finally I decided that this was a chance from God and that I would regret passing this man up for a very, very long time.

So I pulled over into the parking lot of a nearby restaurant, parked my car, and started walking down the highway to meet this man. It always amazes me to see some of the incredulous faces on the people in the cars who drive by, windows up and doors locked, and see me talking to ragged-looking homeless people on the side of the road... But I came up to this man, who was wearing a cut off shirt revealing all of his tattoos, had a scruffy beard, an old trucker's hat on his head, and dark leather skin from sitting in the sun for so long. I asked him how he was doing, kneeling down beside him. He replied, "I can't lie, brother, I've been better." I extended my hand and introduced myself and asked him his name, which was

"Steve."

God... bless Steve.

I started to reach in my pocket to get the money and started saying, "Look, Steve, I'm sorry man, I don't have much but-" and then Steve cut me off and said, "Oh, hey, brother, I don't want to cut you short. If you don't have enough for yourself, don't worry about it. God will take care of me."

And when he said that, and even now just thinking about that sentence, there is a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach... How often do I blow money on myself for stuff that I never needed, and probably will continue to do so, and here is a homeless man telling me that I should keep a few dollars for myself in case I "need" it... Wow.

But I said, "No, no, Steve. I want to give this to you. I just wish that I had more to give you. It's just $5..." Steve smiled and almost laughed a little. "You don't understand, little brother," he said, "It may not seem like much to you, but to me, it means that I get to eat today."

I was dumbfounded. I just said, "Well, then there's nothing I'd rather do with this money." I put it in his hand, and we shook hands again. Steve said, "God bless you." Most homeless people say that when you help them out, but Steve was different; he didn't stop there. He said, "I'm a firm believer in the Lord; I have been since I was young. I've fallen on some pretty hard times, obviously. Our economy is all messed up, and things are just bad in this world. But I always trust in Him to take care of me. And He always does." I smiled and said, "That's so true. He always takes care of us." Steve smiled and added, "But I am still waiting so bad for ol' Gabriel to blow that trumpet and end this game down here that I'm in. I'm looking forward to going bass fishing on the Crystal Sea. I'm so ready to be done with all of this stuff here... Russ, would you do me a favor?" I said, "Sure."

"Would you just... pray for me?"

I said, "Of course. Steve, you can count on being in my prayers, day and night."

He just said, "Thanks."

It broke my heart to witness all of this great and powerful testimony of God's providence and diehard faith and hope in Heaven. I didn't know much else to say. Steve started to turn and walk away. He said, "I'm going to go and get me some food!" very excitedly. All I could say was, "God bless you, man." But at this, Steve stopped, turned around and looked me in the eye and said,

"He already has, little brother. Through you."

And as I walked back to my car, fighting tears, my heart felt like it was just on fire, burning strongly for the Lord. So many people have been blessings from God in my life, and Steve helped me to realize that God can just as much use me to be a blessing in the lives of others. And that is what the kingdom of God is like, to me at least.

God, bless Steve. Take care of him. Watch over him. And, in the end, rescue him.

But God, help me to be a blessing to people every day of my life. There are so many more that need rescued. Help me to be that rescue.

Amen.

Faces

I am a better person now than I was two hours ago.

Let me explain why.

I don't remember if I said this in an earlier blog or not, or if I just vented to one of my friends about it one time, but I am realizing a trend in my life lately: I am sooo very busy at school, which is a good thing mostly; I enjoy being involved. But I usually start the week out strong and as the tasks and to-do's pile up as the week wears on, I start getting pretty week by the time it all comes to a close, and then just recharge on the weekends. Well, today was my day where things finally started falling apart under all of the stress. I was kinda bitter, and struggling a lot (I haven't read or prayed in a while...). I was headed for a melt-down.

Until God stepped in.

I got an e-mail reply from Shaun today. Shaun is the director of the Regional Inter-Faith Association (RIFA) in Jackson. I had visited with him some about volunteering, and earlier this week I e-mailed him asking if I could help out this Thursday night. And today I got the "go ahead." But by the time rolled around to actually go, I had a lot of temptation to just be complacent and not do anything at all. But I knew that it was going to be something that would knock me out of my comfort zone and back into a stronger relationship with Christ, so I got in my car at 4:45 and headed to RIFA.

I walked in, not knowing what to expect, and found a kitchen bustling with volunteers from other churches. And they were all such awesome people. Lindsey was an episcopalian who was going to the peace corp next year; Jan was the head of the team, a methodist, who really felt called to this work and had been doing it for nearly four years; the rest of the men and women there were from First Baptist. They were all really nice, and put me to work getting the food and drinks ready as soon as I got there.

Within five minutes of opening the doors, the little warehouse-dining room was full of homeless people from the community. I was expecting we'd serve them in line like a cafeteria, but we got to do something much, much better. We had them all be seated, Greg led a prayer, and then we got the food and drink and dessert and took it to them to their tables. It was a really cool way to serve so many people. And I didn't know what to expect; it was obvious that the majority of them were on drugs, but for some reason I felt very comfortable and natural with them. So I started asking how they were doing, said, "God bless" as they left, and thought that that was that.

Until William walked in.

I'm a photographer, if you didn't know. And one day, last year, I was in East Jackson ("bad" Jackson) shooting some pictures of houses, when I met a homeless man sitting on the front stoop of one of the houses, reading his Bible. I stopped and talked to him for about thirty minutes or so, we got to be good acquaintances, and I took his picture and told him I was a photographer. He thanked me for the conversation, and we parted ways eventually. But I never forgot the face of the homeless man reading the book of hope that day: William.

And so here is this man who comes in to the drink line, and it was dimly lit, so at first I wasn't sure, but eventually I knew it had to be him. So I just exclaimed: "William!" He looked up kind of confused (Lindsey and Jan stopped filling cups for a second with looks of "you know this guy?" on their faces). He said, "How do you know my name?" I said, "William, it's me, Russell. I took your picture last year in East Jackson." He smiled real big, "Oh yeah! Wow... You remembered me?" I laughed and said, "William, how could I forget you, man?" He smiled even bigger and said, "How are your pictures of homeless people coming?" I told him that I was getting published this November. He congratulated me, we small talked a little more, and then he had to go sit down because a lot more people were coming in behind him.

After that, I really started talking to people. I started sitting at their tables after I'd passed them some food. I met a lot of kind faces tonight; more faces that I don't think I will forget. Faces that I thought I was blessing by my service to them, but they were the ones really blessing me. Faces like that of Immanuel's. He was very skiddish, scarfing his food down and rarely making eye contact with me. I finally said, "Immanuel... That's a good name. It was Jesus' name, you know?" He said, "Oh yes, I know!" And I said, "Right.. It means, 'God with us.'" He just kept eating in silence for a while, but eventually sat up and asked, "How long have you been volunteering?" I said, "This is my first night actually." Then he finally looked me in the eye and said, "God is going to bless you greatly for doing this."

Yeah, I don't think I'll forget Immanuel's face any time soon.

Or Phil's face. Phil used to be in contracting. He lost his leg at some point, and was bound to a wheel chair now. We talked a lot about construction work; I shared some of my construction experiences from interning in Honduras this past summer. We laughed a lot, remembered good times where we worked hard all day and came home to a good supper and slept great at night. I probably talked to Phil for a good twenty minutes.

I don't think I will forget Phil's face either.

Or Andy's. Or David's. Or the other David's, haha. Or Damien's. I won't soon forget any of them. And I won't soon forget William, as he was leaving, saying to me, "It's good to see you again. I'm glad you remembered me. I hope that I'll be seeing you here more often." And then he paused and said, "Well, hopefully not too often... I'm trying to get off of these streets, man. I'm tired of this..." I patted him on the back and said, "Trust in God, follow after Him; He can get you out of it if you really want to." He looked me in the eye and said, "Those are real encouraging words, man. I won't forget those..."

And I won't forget tonight. I won't forget what it felt like to serve people like I imagined Jesus would have; I won't forget what it felt like to spread Christ's love; I won't forget what it felt like to connect with people... I won't forget their faces.

Oh, and... I'm not so bitter or worn out, emotionally or spiritually, anymore. Amazing how God can help me overcome my stubborness or sin or stress just by filling me with love in order to hand it back out to other people...

Maybe that's because THAT is what it's really all about.

Tithe

I read something in Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz that really hit me, and I want to share it with you today, and how I tried my hardest to carry it out.

Miller wrote about a friend of his who very rarely frequented a church building and yet held a strict policy on "tithing" (the act of giving back from your money to God, usually through church). Miller asked his friend why he tithed when he saw a large glass jar on his desk full of money that was considered "unusable" because it was money he was going to someday give to a church. His friend replied, "How can I not tithe, Don? It's God's money!"

That really hit me. The blessings that I have are not mine; they are God's. And I need to give of them back to him. And I love how Miller discusses how that doesn't always mean dropping a couple of bucks into the collection plate on Sunday morning. So yesterday I went to the ATM and got out some cash and decided that I was going to REALLY tithe today. I was going to find some way, other than the collection plate, to give this money back to its rightful owner.

I went to church in Jackson with my sister and brother-in-law, and then afterward we went out to eat in celebration of my birthday from last week. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I knew that it was now or never; I had some money burning in my wallet and I had to find a way to glorify God with it. I drove around the usual places that homeless people typically hang out at on Sundays, and I didn't see any. I was very discouraged... I started to get on the exit ramp and head back to school, I switched it to "Give Me Your Eyes" by Brandon Heath on my iPod, and got back on the highway.

I didn't make it a mile before God showed me what I was supposed to do today.

I saw a ragged-looking man with a large backpack walking down the road just before Casey Jones' Village, and he had a small puppy walking with him. I pulled into the parking lot at Casey Jones' Motel, and climbed the embankment up to the interstate to greet the man.

He was so thankful just that I was saying, "Hello."

His name was Jim. His dog's name was Niche. Jim had dark, tanned and leathery skin. He had a thick, gray and black beard that hung down to his chest. He had maybe four teeth, big wide eyes, a shirt advertising a motorcycle rally and a beat-up cap. He was sweaty, and extremely dirty, and smelled strongly of alcohol. I asked him what I could do to help him, and he said that he was so hungry and needed a place to stay for the night. He told me that he'd been trying to hitchhike out of Jackson for a few days now, but that it was proving to be no luck. He had been sleeping behind an old abandoned gas station just down the road from Casey Jones' Village. He didn't know what to do.

I walked with him back down to Casey Jones' Motel and said I'd try to get him a room for the night. The woman at the front desk seemed shocked to see me walking in with this man. She said that they couldn't allow him to stay because they had a no pets policy. As I walked out, we caught eyes, and she was looking at me with a look of bewilderment that I won't soon forget.

Jim and Niche loaded up in my car and we drove down the road to Days Inn. Jim got out and asked the lady at the front desk if they allowed pets, and they did, and so he happily motioned for me to get out of the car and come in. We left Niche outside for a little while and went in to talk to reception. Jim filled out the paperwork for the room, giving the lady the I.D. that he had from a homeless shelter in Colorado. I noticed a Honduras flag hanging on a necklace around the lady's neck (how "ironic," God), and asked her about it. She said that her boyfriend was from Tegucigalpa. I explained that I had been a missionary there that past summer. It was almost as though once I started talking about being a missionary, it all clicked for her. As she handed the room key to Jim, she just looked at me and smiled. I smiled back and said, "Have a great day" as I exited the door. She added quietly, "Yeah... you too..."

:)

I helped Jim get his stuff out of my car, and he unhooked Niche from his backpack and stood up straight to say goodbye before he made his way to his room. He looked me in the eye and said, "You will never know how much I appreciate what you have done for me. I have been so stressed out lately trying to find a place to stay that, look," he stopped and showed me his hand, which was shaking violently, "... Look, I'm shaking I've been so stressed out." Then he paused for a moment and looked at me again and said, "You are sent from Heaven. God bless you." I shook his hand and returned the blessing, gave him a little cash for some supper, and wished him a good, relaxing night's sleep and a good breakfast tomorrow morning. He laughed, "I've been so stressed and worried for so long. But for tonight, I get to just kick back and relax. I don't have to worry about anything! I'm going to take a shower, and get some food... It will be great." And with that, Jim went back to his room. And I got back in my car. And I drove away.

And I cried.

I turned the iPod back on, and "Give Me Your Eyes" was still playing, and then "Instead of a Show" came on, the car still smelled like the bitter mixture of alcohol and sweat, and I just... cried. I cried for Jim. I cried for Niche. I cried for all of the broken people and situations and circumstances that are in this world.

And so I ask God, "God, help me to bring Heaven here. Help me to spread your love to everyone that I come in contact with. Help me to restore things to what you meant for them to be. Help me to make things better. Even if it's just for one night."

So here: have your money, God. You do better stuff with it anyway.

"'Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this,' says the LORD Almighty, 'and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it.'" - Malachi 3:10