This Sundays quiet time was quite different than last Sunday's at Disneyland. This Sunday I sat in the basement of the Outpost - a church/mission on 6th street in San Francisco surrounded by homeless people, hookers, drug addicts and dealers.
John, Kendal and I, along with 9 other people from our church, went on a three day mission to to our favorite city of San Francisco, and have returned with a changed perspective of "the City".
On Friday I was overwhelmed with self absorption and the last thing that I wanted to do was spend the weekend with 8 people I didn't know and go do "busy work" to make ourselves feel better. So I told God that I would just show up and He would have to do the rest. Well, He did the rest and pulled me out of myself. It was truly a testimony to God's power.
While we were walking over to the food pantry in our grubby clothes and old shoes, one man on the street commented, "what a nice group of volunteers." We were 8 white people in a pack, which was probably enough to identify us there - but I also think it was because we were walking with a purpose. Most people in the 6th street corridor are not walking with purpose. They are loitering in their comfortable places or moving in groups from one corner to another. Some are so far lost in the haze of drugs that they do not even know what place they are in. They don't understand or see that they truly do have a purpose beyond the fleeting and destructive pleasures they indulge in. That is what Mike, Ann, Heather and Cameron are trying to do at the Outpost. They are giving the children that come to the mission hope in the present and hope eternally. They are teaching and living out the truth and feeding their bodies and their souls. I feel privileged that I could go and support their efforts even for a few days.
We met the most amazingly hopeful and humble new Christians at the church as we participated in Bible study and then worship. They had no hesitation to humble themselves at the altar and pray. There was no worry of what the people sitting next to you might think. There was no judgment. There was hope and the feeling of God's community standing firm together.
We did some clean up work around the mission on Saturday, as well as worked at Open Hand food pantry - an amazing organization - for 5 hours. We packed peas, lentils, spaghetti; we moved pallets of food, we washed and cut radishes, we assembled frozen meals. On Sunday afternoon after church we took care packages that we had previously put together and went out on 6th street. We handed out 96 of these packages in less than an hour. The most amazing part was that we did not just "drop and run" but that we tried to stop and talk with the people. There was Julio who used to be a pastor but is now addicted to crack. There was Julie who had no front teeth and could barely open her eyes to talk to me but wanted me to pray for her seizures. There was Shirley who put my hands on her side and on her head so I could pray for the pain there. There was the man who immediately after receiving our package sat down and put on the new socks and put the shampoo on his head. Next time we should probably put in some water bottles as I don't think most of the people had anywhere to wash their hair. We talked with the people and prayed with them. We had several people (addicts, hookers) lining up waiting to pray with us. John saw several people holding on to their bags of crack.
The smelly unattractive people sitting on the side of the street are no longer nameless and faceless to me. I am pulled out of myself and my focus has shifted from what can I do to please me and make me more comfortable to focusing on what part God wants me to play in the situation that He has placed me in right now.
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