It was pouring rain down at Potters on Tuesday. I’d just spent two and a half days doing nothing. Well not nothing; just nothing constructive. Played stupid games and watched questionable TV shows on the PC. As I was preparing to go I remembered, for the first time, to bring an aid bag: 6 pairs of socks, a journal with information about shelters and food hand outs. Small, but it was a start. So service goes on as planned. Friesen is great as expected and Cameron delivers a fine sermon. The guy is a natural. Charles asks me to tell this unruly attendant to pull his bag out of the aisle. Charles said he’d do it but he would probably get punched. I ask the guy if he can move his bag and he basically says to go to hell and that the bag isn’t in the way. It was funny cause right as he was saying it someone in a wheel chair narrowly squeezed his way by. I was uncomfortable in the situation so I went to help serve food. It went smoothly and when it seemed I had time I walked the aisle to look for people to talk to. It really is a practice of listening to the Holy Spirit, and then saying yes. Sometimes I’m not going to be much use, sometimes I’m not willing to say yes. I sat down across from the man who had his bag in the aisle and tried to talk to him. He just ignored me. I kind of understand. He was smart enough to realize that Charles was manipulating him through me and he didn’t want to be manipulated. I basically said I wasn’t there to control him and that I wanted to extend peace and not have anything between us. He got up and started talking to someone else as I talked. So time passes. I help serve and clean a little and then as this guy is leaving he turns to me, looks me in the eye for the first time, and extends his hand. I can’t imagine what my expression was; shock, happy? I quickly pulled off my serving glove and shook his hand. I can’t even remember if we had words; I don’t think so? It was very satisfying.
Soon after, I notice this guy at the back who is drenched to the bone. His hand is clenched in a fist. He says he’s so cold, his hand is numb, he’s so hungry, he’s eyeing for food. I tell him the food is done and packed away. He says he’s so angry, he says he feels the anger building inside. It looks like he’s about to hulk out and I take a half step back. He donkey kicks the chair behind him into the window and Pederson approaches and says he shouldn’t have even let him in so he better chill. The soaked man says out loud that he is so hungry and one of the men from the community who had been served gives him his plate. I love seeing that. There is love in this community. The guy puts the fork aside and scoops the food into his mouth by the hand full. I ask him to come sit down and get warm. I ran some errands for other people and I over hear him asking for socks. I tell him I can get him some socks. Praise the Lord that I remembered them or that the Lord prompted me. Practical service . . . I want to do more of this. So I give him the socks and he starts to talk. Someone has given him another cup of food and he is eating this with a fork. He tells me how harsh his life is in no linear fashion. He says he’s a binner, he just wants a couple of bucks in his pocket, he knows there’s money in this place, his one hand is totally numb. “Who says giving is better then receiving. I give and what do I get for it. People just take. What do I get for it? . . . All I get is $75 from welfare because of my anger issues. Who can live on $75 bucks? That’s why I have to go binning . . . Ya, so I want to have a drink once in a while, smoke a joint once in a while, it’s just for some relief . . . I’m so tired, my arms are tired, my feet are tired, I’m so tired, tired of life . . . I know there’s money in this place. I just need a couple of bucks.”
I’m praying as I listen. What can I say Lord, what can I do? I say, “I’m not going to give you any money. I don’t know if it will go to drugs or alcohol.”
He gets visibly agitated. “Ya, you don’t care,” he says, “you got a home to go to, car to drive you there, food in the cupboard, you got money, you don’t care.”
God definitely sent this guy to me. What a convicting thing to say. He was right. In about an hour I would be home and I could go back to my complacency. I would have a shower and wash my self clean of this filth. After a night sleep maybe I could forget the pain of this poor soul. Maybe I could forget that I was going to send him on his way in a few minutes to find shelter under a door step awning; forget that as wet and cold as he was he would be even more tired tomorrow. Yet I was angry at his desperate cry for cash. I said with my tone slightly riled and voice a little louder, “I get angry too when God doesn’t give me what I want. God only gives me what I need. Prayers sometimes go unanswered but I know he has my best in mind.”
Why does God allow me to participate? Why would this guy ever believe that God has his best in mind? I thought I was being firm. I thought I had to break through his self pity and take his mind of trying to acquire money. Maybe I did need to do that?
Everyone had left except staff and volunteers. He said, “Nobody cares anymore.”
I agreed with him, mostly, but I pointed out that everyone left in the building cares. None of them have to be here. They all choose to because they care. He began putting on his new socks. His feet were water logged; white and wrinkled. As he put his soaked shoes back on I realized my small gift of socks would be soaked again within minutes. I should have brought those old running shoes. There was a loud bang at the door. I got up to check. Two guys were in an argument but it seemed to be calming down. I told the man that we had to go. I think everyone was waiting for us. He got up to leave and said thanks before he exited. Why did he say thanks? I couldn’t do anything for him. I could have took him back to my house and given him a warm dry couch to sleep on and a shower and a shave. My excuse, he might try and steal something. It’s a very good excuse. Where do I draw the line on being Jesus to those in need? It’s been two days. It hasn’t stopped raining. I’m wondering where he is right now. I can’t forget.
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