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.