Disciple Now

Man, is it different to be on the other side. For seven years, I was a student at my church's DNow. Taking in the antics of the Bible study leaders with wide eyes, hanging onto their every word. I can still remember several life-changing moments that I had at various Disciple Now weekends, close friends I made, service projects I took on with my friends and leaders.

But I think that this year, even though I wasn't the "official" student--I may have learned more this year than any other year. Our service project this year wasn't to do yardwork, volunteer at a shelter or soup kitchen, though these are noble and needed pursuits. Instead, with the help of a man in our congregation who works daily with the urban homeless, we put together a worship service under a bridge in downtown. In addition to the worship servic (music, speaking, prayer), we gave out food, clothing, and comfort items, all under a huge city bridge.

Though our leader had publicized the event in shelters and was expecting a large turnout of homeless people, only about 20 people came, as it was pouring down rain. We had enough food and clothing and comfort items to serve 10 times that amount. But no one was disappointed. We accomplished our two primary objectives: serve the homeless and get our kids out of their comfort zone. Not only did I get to hand a man a Bible and see his completely rapturous smile to hold it in his hands, but I got to see these kids eager to serve and talk to these homeless individuals like they would an old friend.

I was so glad that our videographer didn't catch me during the worship service under the bridge: I was full out sobbing. I remembered every time I'd passed by a homeless person on the street, wary and clutching my purse. I remembered the hot shower I'd had in the morning, the hot coffee, the filling breakfast. I remembered the warm bed I had slept in the night before, and I was overcome. I've been so blessed, yet I've looked on those less fortunate with judgement. The same ones I might have shied away from in another situation, were clapping and singing alongside me, chatting with me, eagerly thanking me when I offered them a razor or soap or a pair of socks.

A myriad of emotions overcame me in those hours. Guilt, for my hypocrisy, judgemental attitude, or even guilt for having a roof and food and warmth. Compassion. Pain. But despite the unfairness of their lives, I never heard a man or woman or child complain under that bridge. I saw people embracing complete strangers, praying for them, laughing with them, singing with them. And when the pastor said the Lord's prayer, I felt joy that only the consistent presence of God can give: every voice present joined in.

I don't understand why the world is the way it is. I just don't want to be the one making it that way.

"I don't think the way you think. The way you work isn't the way I work." God's Decree.
"For as the sky soars high above earth, so the way I work surpasses the way you work, and the way I think is beyond the way you think." Isaiah 55:8