Beggars CAN be choosers...

So I'm home now, but reflecting on some of the things I experienced last week. One recurring motif that surprised me was this: 'Beggars Can be Choosers!" What do I mean by that?

Several times during the week our team worked with populations that were either economically disadvantaged or homeless. Our mode of connection was that we had some good or service that we thought they might need, and we were offering this to them free of charge. Several times, however, the intended recipients surprised us by either refusing the goods they seemed in desperate need of, or countering the offer with a demand. "I can't take a size 38, I need a size 36 men's jeans." ("Even though they were beautiful Kenneth Cole?" our team member said!)

Another instance was when at a soup kitchen we were handing out free coats. It was cold, and there was at least 2 feet of snow piled up on the edge of the street. Yet many of the individuals turned down the coats offered, either because they weren't the right style, or didn't fit the way an invididual wanted. (as in, "ma'am, I'm not sure you would quite be able to fit into a small') The worst offender was a woman who jumped in line to start with, got a beautiful, stylish coat, then came back later wanting to return it. She had ripped the loop used to hang the coat, and demanded we take it back because "it was ruined."

I've been wondering about this. Why would people so obviously in need refuse a sincere and adequate offer to meet their needs? Without passing judgment, I wonder if you'd be willing to throw out a few answers, then I'll tell you what I'm thinking.

How's the Fishing, Peter?

A river of energy flows through Mid-town Manhattan, a veritable Class-5 rapids of elite shopping and upscale destinations. From The Plaza and Central Park issues a cascade of luxury; Versace, Ferragamo, Cartier, Van Cleef & Arpels down fabled Fifth Avenue. Discerning shoppers come to test their skills in landing the big purchase. But there amidst the glitter is another fisherman, plying his trade.

Pastor Peter, as he calls himself, threads the van down the same street looking for a vastly different target. He looks for the huddled and the broken; the disenfranchised and the down and out. "They are transitory," he explains as we troll, "the homeless can't stay in one place for too long because it can be dangerous for them. But I know where to look... we'll find them."

And there, in the side eddy's of the river called New York, forgotten by the famous and bypassed by businessman, are the derelicts of our society. Here on a church stoop, there in a public atrium, this is where Peter the fisherman looks for and finds his catch. "Could we give you a blanket sir? And a sandwich? My name is Pastor Peter, and I'm here to tell you that Jesus loves you."

Cardboard condominiums house migrants, strangely consumer-like in their preferences. "I need a 36 x 30 jeans, those 38's are too big," one man informs. No matter; the need is met with a smile and Pastor Peter, like the clerk in the Armani store within a stone's throw, enobles the man by honoring his request. A hug, a joke shared with "Ray Charles" on his way to Atlanta, massive glasses hiding sad eyes and old pain, form the conversation on this fishing trip. Two old women in a shelter, safe for the night but shattered by life and left shells of what selves they once knew... these are the sights that will haunt.

The New York many know, with it's pulsing rhythm and spinning lights, flows on long into the night. But the swirling pools deep with human pain linger on for me; reminders that the sites I thought I knew, held a deeper truth that belie the wealth on display. Etched now forever in my mind was "Able" asleep under the phones in Port Authority, so far from living his name as if to seem a joke...an obscene joke. Able...now with a blanket. And a prayer.

And Peter the fisherman, showing eager students the good fishing holes, continues as he has for 25 years now, convinced that Able can, and Able will, rise.

As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brother Andrew. They were casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen. "Come, follow me," Jesus said, "and I will make you fishers of men." At once they left their nets and followed him. Matthew 4:18-20

Not so Fast...National Pancake Day

I'm headed up to New York City Saturday with a team of students and leaders, and I sense that it is going to be a significant time. And all the hip-techno types around me (I'm tragically unhip) tell me I must chronicle this trip with pictures and timely words. So back to my neglected blog.

And something else... a FAST. Yikes. Technically, I'm not supposed to tell you I'm doing that, because Jesus warns religious people like me not to announce their religious activities to others in order to appear more spiritual on the outside than they are on the inside. But the whole reason I'm sharing this is because I DON'T feel particularly spiritual inside right now.

Mostly that's because I'm looking at a stack of PANCAKES Free pancakes Free IHOP Pancakes

It's my wife's fault... (ha bet that one doesn't work) because she sent me with the boys to take advantage of National Pancake Day So there I sit, with tummy rumbling louder than Pooh bear, and a free stack of fluffy hotcakes in front of me. (my Scotch-Irish heritage would not allow me to skip ordering a free stack to take home for the rest of my family). And I begin to say to myself, "Its for a good cause, Leukemia and Lymphoma Society would love for me to eat these pancakes."

"Not so fast," I said to my rationalizing self, "you're on a fast!" All I could smell was batter and syrup. My head was beginning to spin. "What is the big deal about giving up food anyway? God knows we need to eat."

And so I reviewed with my self the whole point... fasting sets apart a time and a person for a special purpose; specifically, God's purpose. Like it says in a record of the early Christians, "Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them." ³So after they had fasted and prayed, they placed their hands on them and sent them off.

Giving up food for a time helps me to focus on the work I have been called to do... in this case, share love and care for homeless and needy individuals in New York City. It reminds me that I am truly dependent on God, though normally I take care of basic needs myself. As my stomach gurgles I determine again to pray, and to set myself apart for God to use. And I vow silently, solemnly, I will celebrate National Pancake Day in my own special way, NEXT WEEK.