I did not come to church today because a cousin of mine was in town. He has been away at school in California and my family decided that Sunday morning was the most convenient time to do an extended-family lunch. This was in direct-conflict with church service. As much as I wanted to be at church today, I felt it was more important for me to be with my family this morning. I don’t know why, but it was just an act of compulsion. I felt guilty and uneasy for not attending church service. But I knew in my heart-of-hearts that it was important that I be with my family today.
I felt guilty this morning.
As the day progressed away from my usual 10:30am to 12:30pm time slot that I reserve for church these days, my heart grew lighter. As the day progressed, I felt the burden on my heart was being lifted. I think I am starting to realize a little more and more what God has placed on my heart. For many weeks now, I have been contemplating street ministry. I am feeling more compelled to seek out the homeless and begin to understand what this outreach would look like. I guess I’m feeling God is calling me to help. I am scared to even begin this research, but several recent events since I’ve returned from Mexico have given me some clarity around what all of this means, and what I feel God is asking me to do.
During my Mexico Turtle Conservation trip, I realized that the inhabitants of Colola, Mexico were poor. I realized that their social status paled in comparison to the riches I have in Toronto. As I tromped through their streets in my unconscious northern swagger, with my Nike dry-fit shirt, GAP Shorts, and adorning my flashy blue Oakley sunglasses, I realized that my fashion if liquidated based on retail value could command cash value of approximately $250. As I shuffled along these dirty roads, scanning these modest homes, free-range chickens roaming freely, and children covered in dirt and faded t-shirts; it dawned on me I must look like royalty as I passed. I might as well have been wearing velvet cape and a jewel-adorned gold crown. The $250 that I was wearing, was the same amount of money that it cost me to be a part of the Volunteers for Peace program in Colola for the entire 10 days I was there. This was the money it cost for food, shelter, and administration for the time I spent in Colola for the duration of my trip. The money that it cost for my Thursday outfit could go a long way in Mexico. My world was colliding with theirs. Something was wrong with this picture. Something was terribly wrong. And I felt that something in my very core.
The financial-divide between Mexicans in Colola and well-to-do Canadians in Toronto was great. But to be honest, the Mexicans seemed very content and self-sufficient in their lives. They seemed very content and happy in their world. Most knew Jesus Christ through the Catholic ministry that is the predominant religion in the country. And as much as it dawned on me that I have so much tangibly in comparison, I feel God wanted me to see something more. He has been giving me clear indication that there is a need much closer to home.
As I came back to Toronto, my life group finished up the Irresistible Revolution. This was when pieces started falling into place and I realized there was something God wanted me to do. Shane Claiborne’s book that was introduced by Lon into our life group re-introduced some basic Christian values about helping those in need and specifically those trapped in the cycle of poverty. It was as involved as I’ve ever been in a small-group and I’ve been reflecting a lot about all of this…
As many of you know, in one of my previous postings, I was approached by a homeless man a couple months back, and I felt compelled to help the man by offering some conversation, a warm handshake, and some money. Since then some other interesting things have happened.
Recently, I had a series of interesting conversations with a long-lost friend of mine from waterloo, a Christ-follower who faltered in her faith for years due to some difficult life circumstances and was looking to regain her trust and understanding of Jesus Christ. We discussed the difficult concept of faith, both of us on distinctly different life paths, but both genuinely seeking to know Christ fully in the same way. I shared my story with her. She shared her story with me. And through this interaction, I realized that God had put her in my life again to contemplate the regenerative effects sharing your story with someone of the faith can do for your soul and for your discernment of your purpose. I told her about my “attempt at getting to know the poor” story and she was moved by my testimony. I told her I was a bit frightened and that I wasn’t sure what God wanted of me, but it was clear He wanted to guide me in a new direction. She told me she was excited for me, because it seemed God was calling me; and as scared as I was, I was answering His call. She reminded me, that if I pray earnestly, He will open the doors for me.
Even more recently, another long-lost friend from mine from waterloo and I had an unexpected talk about faith at a friend’s wedding briefly. We really don’t know each other that well, but it was nice to know she was on a journey herself. I didn’t think too much about it at the time, but over the next few days it did weigh on my mind a bit. About a week after the wedding, out-of-the-blue and to my surprise she contacted me to let me know she had been thinking about the talk we shared. She told me her faith had been shaken and wanted to discuss with me knowing that I was seeking Christ. I shared my story. She shared her story. Through our conversations, we found ourselves caught on the topic of not answering His call; specifically, with respect to helping the poor. She shared a story about a homeless person who had been placed in front of her and her husband, while partaking in an over-abundant meal of fried chicken. No words were exchanged with the homeless man, who was clearly hungry and rummaging around the garbage can. She explained how horrible she felt for not offering some food to the homeless person, and how easy it was for her to help. We discussed the possibility of helping the poor together, and doing some research on homeless outreach in Toronto, given it seemed like God had placed this on both our hearts. We prayed about this possibility, and it seems there is some mutual interest to learn more about what we can do here. I sent some homeless outreach links on the Internet to her a couple weeks back, but have not taken the time myself to do proper research.
This past Thursday on my way to work, I stopped into my usual Tim Horton’s coffee shop for my daily medium regular coffee. As I entered the establishment, I noticed a homeless man panhandling outside. I made no eye-contact and went into the shop. I ordered a coffee and a blueberry muffin. I took the change and put it in my left pocket. As I left the shop I looked at the homeless man, and taking that moment to look at the man cross-legged on the street, I felt the compulsion to help overcome me. I knelt down beside the man and asked him how he was doing. He told me things could be better. He was a couple weeks away from a skin-graph on the back of his head from an injury he had sustained. He showed me the ghastly injury. I did not look for very long. He told me that it was still a couple weeks away from the surgery, but was hoping to raise some money to get him through these tough times. He said social assistance provides him about $900 a month to help him with housing and basic living costs. “It’s just not enough.” He said. ( In the back of my mind, I recalled another recent conversation with a friend who mentioned how she was appalled by the homeless’ sense of entitlement. But as I thought about this in hindsight, $900 / month really is not a lot of money. But I guess it is still a pretty large sum of money to receive for doing nothing. Nonetheless, the man in front of me needed help. ) I told him I could help. I asked him if he wanted something to eat offering up my muffin. He rubbed his belly and said he had just had something to eat. I told him, no problem and said I can do what I can. I reached into my pocket and I gave him a toonie, and wished him a good day and to take care. As I stood up, he reached out and patted my arm and said “Bless you. Bless you.” I put my ipod ear-piece back into my ear and hid behind my Ray Ban sunglasses as I crossed the street towards my over-paid and under-appreciated work place. I swore to myself that I would be back for him.
Today, as the guilt of not attending church subsided. The pressure on my heart was lifted later in the day, and I began doing some research online about homeless outreach. I started reading-up on Project 417 founded by Rev. Joe Elkerton and continued viewing related presentations on You Tube about homeless outreach in Toronto. I stumbled upon another ministry called Hope Wheels, a homeless outreach program put on by the Queensway Cathedral. They have two weekly outreach programs on Tuesday and Thursday evenings in downtown Toronto – which is ideal timing for me given my current work arrangement. I feel I could help here. In doing some more snooping around, on Queensway Cathedral’s homepage, I found the taping of some online ministry put on by the church’s Pastor, Billy Richards.
I decided that since I had missed out on today’s sermon at Mosaic, that I should watch and listen to the message put on by Pastor Billy (from Canada Day). It was a sermon that was over 40 minutes. I sighed knowing how long I had to sit listening to the sermon late this Sunday evening. But I knew I wanted to hear God’s message, and I wanted to know more about the folks involved with the Hope Wheels ministry. At first, the Pastor seemed welcoming but foreign. I mean, their church is down on the Queensway in downtown Toronto, close to Hwy 427. That’s as foreign as it gets for this east-ender. :) But as Pastor Billy gave his message, he noted years ago he attended Heather Heights and Woburn CI in Scarborough. Heather Heights is the junior public school that I attended, which is literally three houses from my family’s home. Woburn CI is the high school I attended for five years. As much as Pastor Billy and I attending the same schools is coincidence, I’m starting to realize that maybe this whole Christ thing is not as foreign as I’ve made it seem. Things are hitting close to home these days.
Today, I skipped church. But I got an even greater message in my absence.
Tonight started out as just a night to get caught-up on some actions that I had talked big about for weeks. I’ll be honest; it did feel a bit like a chore to do. But now, as I sit here, it feels like God is again opening the doors for me, to show me that my journey is not as unfamiliar as I make it seem. Things really aren’t that foreign if one seeks carefully. All my strange meanderings recently seemed so disconnected and unrelated. But tonight, I think it’s starting to make some sense. As strange as it sounds, I understand why missing church today was a blessing. Truly knowing Christ is much greater than just going to church every Sunday – it’s an all-consuming leap of faith in all aspects of one’s life. I hope I haven’t veered off the path…
Please, pray earnestly for me.
