When I was hungry you gave me . . . .

As I sat in front of our RV in an alley that was heavily trafficked by the homeless, my eyes came upon an older man with white whiskers, a blue bandana, jeans and a button-up shirt. I instantly knew he was homeless, but he looked unusually clean for a street person. He was carrying a large black plastic bag and had a small backpack on. He stood about 5'6" tall and even from a distance seemed shy.

I called out to him and asked him if he would like a soda and a place to sit for a while. He tentatively agreed and with a tilt of his head started to walk towards where I was sitting. I had already showed him more love than he usually gets in a day, and I could see his eyes begin to light up. His name was Dennis and we ended up talking for another hour or so, with the promise that he would come back again the next night for a BBQ. He came back and then the next night, came back again, the next day, Dennis was ready to talk and to listen, something he doesn't get to do much. We talked about Clint Eastwood movies, about some of his friends on the streets, about where he sleeps at night, about how he likes to keep really clean. I learned that Dennis loves everything about Ireland, the music, the food, the beer, but the thing that stood out to me most was a story he had. He hated the church we were parked in front of. He had been told to leave. He had been told he was unwelcome.

Now, I have listened to hundreds of stories from hundreds of homeless men and women, trust me, they all have one. Some are true, some are lies, and some are a half-truth distorted from hard nights, and long days on the streets with nobody to truly love them and listen to them. Dennis' story seemed true, but really it doesn't matter if it was his fault and he "deserved" to be thrown out, or if it was completely undeserved, the taste in his mouth was one of hatred of the church, and a desire to keep God at arms distance.

His story reminded me of a story from Mike Yankoski's book "Under the Overpass." The two travellers were in my home state of Oregon, in downtown Portland where we did ministry for the past year and a half. Here is a quote from the book:

A large gray church rose up behind a wrought iron fence in front of us. The building was old and weathered. Above the mahogany double doors hung a sign in red letters: "No Trespassing Church Business Only." A new chain and two huge padlocks secured the gate at the sidewalk.


"It would take bolt cutters and a battering ram to get into that church," I said, suddenly angry. "'Come to me all you who are weary and heavy laden'? Yeah, and what, die on my front steps?"


We turned to keep walking toward the waterfront. Sure, a church needs to protect its property, but what we had just seen seemed excessive, and sent a negative, uncaring message.


Sam was having the same thoughts. "Let's say your life is falling apart and you need help. Would you want to go there?"


"Nope," I said. "Anywhere but there. But the world is the church's business - and that's exactly who they're shutting out."

On Sunday morning, Dennis wanted nothing to do with that church, he actually wanted nothing to do with any church, and kept his distance from God as well. Between services I heard some of the people in the lobby talking about a couple of homeless men outside, so I went outside to see if I could talk with them. The church asked them to leave, told them they had nothing for them and that they were disrupting the people coming into the church. One of the homeless men, later I found out his nickname was "Army," straightened up and said, "You drive in here with your Mercedes Benz', Mustangs, and Audi's, and you don't have a sandwich for a homeless guy." We told him we could make him something, and since our RV was 10ft. away, it wasn't any problem at all. We spent the next hour or so having lunch and A&W Root beer with 2 drunk homeless guys. We prayed with them, prayed for them to reunite with their families, from freedom from addiction, and contentment from God.

See, the problem I have with churches like this is that they turn the hungry, the poor, and the widows away because they are too much to deal with, they are a hard lot to hang out with, they are the margins of society. What this does is reflect a false image of who God is. If a church is not reflecting even a glimmer of the one true God, then I want nothing to do with that church, no matter how welcoming and loving it may be to me, a clean-cut, non-alcoholic. The second layer of this mess is what Jesus said in Matthew 25: "Whatever you did for the least of these my brothers, you did it for me." What do you do with that other than love the unlovable. And don't get me wrong, it is hard, and the only place inside me that this comes from is where the Holy Spirit has filled. Period.

I spoke with some people from the church, asked them, in a loving way, why they couldn't do more for the ministry that is walking up and down the alley behind their church everyday pushing shopping carts. The response: we give to the local homeless outreach ministry. This upset me, but I kept it from showing.


The church has become a brokering service. The people sitting in the pews give their money to the church, which in turn gives a portion of that money to the local homeless shelter, with the expectation that when they walk from their Mercedes to the church doors they don't have to see or smell anybody from that level of society, they become insulated. It's easy to give our money, our 10%, to an "organization" that can then "better" use it to help the poor. Is this what God calls us to? To paraphrase Shane Claiborne, when Jesus used the sheep and the goats parable in Matthew 25 I don't believe he meant, "When I was hungry you gave to the local faith-based non-profit and they fed me." Especially when an urban church is doing that! We stay insulated from other levels of society, we stay separated from the poor, the marginalized, which we are called to serve, not give our money to, and when you are in the center of poverty, in an urban setting, you have a lot of insulation wrapped around your building, and probably more accurately your heart. Following God is never easy, that is why He asks us to pick up our own cross, not pay somebody else to carry it for us.