Observations Gleaned From Serving the Unsheltered During Inclement Weather For Ten Days

During Inclement Weather Service, I see the ugliness of the world juxtaposed against the goodness of God. Injustice and cruelty smack me right in the face as a an aromatic soup of human smells invades my nasal passages. My eyes scan the room—all 50,000 plus square feet—attempting to visually process a tsunami of hurt, pain, open wounds (physical and emotional), lost limbs, misguided thinking, mental anguish, addictions, vileness, sin, and evil. In the midst of the storm, I see the hands and feet of Jesus feeding the hungry, holding hands with the brokenhearted, intently listening to people share their stories —some of whom might as well be speaking in tongues—untangling the confusion, and shining the light of Christ himself. It’s all too much to process. Quickly, I find myself drowning in sensory overload.

6 With what shall I come before the Lord
and bow down before the exalted God?
Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,
with calves a year old?
⁷ Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams,
with ten thousand rivers of olive oil?
Shall I offer my firstborn for my transgression,
the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?
⁸ He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.

Micah 6:6-8 (NIV)

The meals at our makeshift shelter today are provided by a Messianic Jew, Texas Baptists, and an Islamic Temple. They are served by people from all walks of life to people with all sorts of stories.

A friend of mine who recently had knee surgery sits next to a person confined to a wheelchair. She’s a double amputee who lost both legs below the knee. Yet, Elizabeth has spirit. My friend Martin listens to her tell her story.

Experiencing Inclement Weather Service is like viewing a painting from afar that appears ugly from a distance but reveals its beauty as you draw near. I’m left unsure with what to do with what I’ve just experienced.

Writer Charles Bukowski is credited with observing that the only time most people think about injustice is when it happens to them. Bukowski is known for writing about the poor and downtrodden, as well as addiction, complicated relationships, and the everyday drudgeries of life. I don’t think he was a Christian, but then only God knows the true heart of a man.

We are isolated from the realities of the world around us as we shelter nearly a thousand people suffering through their worst life. A parade honoring Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. passes by us, less than a mile from our building. The irony is not lost on us. We all wonder what Dr. King would say about hosting a parade while people are mired in the cruel injustices shackling those who live life unsheltered only a few feet away.

Musicals, jewelry shows, and kids events are held in the buildings nearby the place Big Tex stands during the State Fair as we minister to the bedeviled, neglected, and brokenhearted.

Life goes on as if nothing is happening here. Souls scream in pain. The world does not hear them. If it does, it chooses to ignore them.

Several people go walk their beautiful dogs. I fret over their pets. What happens to them if something happens to their vulnerable owner? I hear a story from a man who came into the shelter after waking up next to his friend who froze to death. I hear whispers of a young woman who died out in the cold alongside her newborn child.

Someone threatens someone over a missing phone.

Someone speaks to me in some sort of word salad. I kinda understand what he’s saying. Maybe it’s due to his animated gestures. He tells me his name is Stephen King but quickly clarifies not that Stephen King who lives in Bangor, Maine. He was almost killed, you know. Stephen thinks it may have been the FBI.

One man invites me to cuddle with him [In the bathroom].

It’s all just noise.

“Can I get some socks?”

“Do you have any coffee?” another person asks.

“When are you feeding us?” [Half an hour after breakfast is finished.]

Someone doesn’t get what they want and yells “I thought you were Christians!”

“Can we watch a movie? It’s Saturday.”

Most people are just thankful for a bit of refuge from the freezing cold.

A volunteer asks, “Do you ever get used to the smell?”

“No.” I reply.

The odor penetrating our nostrils is a peculiar aromatic blend of incontinence, unkemptness, anguish, pain, and suffering. If brokenness had an odor then this would be it.

It is the aroma of hope lost and dreams shattered.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Larry gets up from his cot, walks over to me, and smiles. “I’ve seen you feed people, clothe people, and love people. You’ve saved lives. You have warriored well. I thank you. May God bless you ten-fold.” He is thin, but not frail. He is old, yet virile. Like the people flooding this big space, he shouldn’t be living on the streets. Yet, the streets have been his reality for far too long.

How do we end homelessness?

The building is empty now. The cacophony of chaos has calmed. I’m headed towards the other side of the mountain to pray.

I wonder—What would Jesus do?

May God have mercy.

Rainer Bantau —The Devotional Guy™