Tag Archives: bible

A Lesson In Life: Serving The Homeless

07 Saturday Nov 2015

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Yesterday, after I finished typing up my blog, I walked downtown to surprise my husband at the church where he volunteers to cook and serve the homeless and low income every Friday.

When I walked in the volunteers had finished cooking and the pastor was doing a devotional before everyone started to serve the guests food. The pastor said, “All of you just told me what you think heaven will be like, now, what does the Bible say?”

The pastor went on to talk about angels singing, and saints being present, but then he mentioned Lazarus. In the Bible, Lazarus, is a beggar that is covered in sores and begs outside the temple.

Every day a rich man passed Lazarus in fine linen and things. Lazarus longs to eat the droppings from the rich man’s table. Both Lazarus and the rich man die. The rich man is in agony while Lazarus is comforted.

The rich man asks Lazarus to dip his finger in water and put it on the rich man’s tongue to help relieve his pain. Abraham tells the rich man that there is a chasm between the two that no one can cross and to remember that while the rich man had everything in life, Lazarus had nothing. The rich man then begs Abraham to let him go to warn his brothers while they are still living about what happens after death so they won’t suffer the same fate.

Before we started to serve the guests, the pastor said, “Think about this while you are serving the people who came here to eat and drink today.”

I always love a good story. Stories open up my heart and my mind. I really love a story that contains justice, but this story hit me hard, because most of us could be seen as the rich man who can eat and drink whatever s/he wants while others around us are suffering and have to beg for the food they eat.

Yesterday, I served coffee to those who have to carry what they own in a shopping cart, backpack, or in trash bags. I said good morning to each and every one of them. I looked them in the eye. I treated them with all the respect that I would treat the mayor, or the CEO of a company. I saw past their dirty clothes and dirty skin. There are only a few things that separate them from me, and most of it has to do with money.

I realized that money is a thin veil – it doesn’t define our humanity or worth. It can be lost, stolen, or spent. We can all find ourselves in need.

I don’t look down on people living in the streets. I meet their eyes, because in all the ways that matter we are equal. None of us will escape death, and I don’t have any idea what heaven looks like or what it will be like, but I know what being treated with dignity is like, and I know it doesn’t cost me anything to treat everyone that way – beggar or king.

Street Teachers

22 Thursday Oct 2015

Posted by in hope, writing

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Mark 12:41-44 New International Version (NIV)

41 Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. 42 But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.

43 Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. 44 They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”

My husband went to the drug store to pick up my medications, some toilet paper, eye drops, and a few other things. As he was walking into the front door, a man sitting on the sidewalk with his back resting against the wall said, “Hey man, can you spare any change?” My husband searched his pockets.

“I don’t have any right now. Maybe on the way out. Wait. I am using a credit card. Sorry.” My husband said.

“Can you buy me a sandwich?” The man asked.

“I’ll see what I can do.” My husband said.

In the store, my husband picked up the few things we needed and then went to the refrigerator section to look for a sandwich. The only food there was frozen food, so he went to where the chips and nuts are shelved. He found a box of granola bars, and placed it in his basket then went to the pharmacy to pick up my pills and to pay for all the items.

On the way out of the store he approached the man sitting down who was talking to a man standing next to him. My husband handed the man sitting down the box of granola bars. “They didn’t have any sandwiches so I bought you these. I don’t know if they are good, but I hope so.”

The man sitting said, “Thank you, man. These are great. I appreciate it.”

The man standing said, “You bought him those? That’s cool. Those are good.”

The man sitting ripped open the box, took out a granola bar, and offered it to the man standing next to him. “”Here, have one.” He said.

We can all be Superheroes

07 Tuesday Jul 2015

Posted by in heroes, mental illness

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At the museum my husband and I went to on Sunday, there was a girl who was about five years old, wearing a pink dress that flared out below the waist, making it fun for her to twirl around the open spaces. She walked past us several times as we were watching a video in one of the make-shift rooms. I kept my eye on her, because I didn’t see any adults around. A man with a name tag walked by and the little girl said, “My brother and I don’t know where our family is. We have lost our family.” I peeked around the corner and her brother was playing on a computer that was set up as part of the exhibit.  The man told the girl to follow him up to the front desk. I was going to follow both of them to make sure the girl and her brother were reunited with their relatives, but a woman came around the corner and started talking to the girl, she took her hand. The boy ignored them and continued to play on the computer. I felt a sense of relief.

On our way home we saw a three year old boy walking by himself through a crowd of people. My husband said, “Is that boy lost?”

I said, “Let’s watch him for a few minutes.” We stood in the park and watched the boy move farther and farther away.  Just before we were going to go after him, a woman pushing a stroller started to talk to him. It was clear he belonged with her.

We continued on our way home.

I thought about those two children, and how similar their situation is to someone who has had a break with reality. When I have been psychotic, I have been completely vulnerable, because when I am psychotic, I don’t know how to perceive people, or possible danger. I need someone to help me get to a safe place with safe people.

I have been fortunate that nothing bad has happened to me during the times that I was psychotic. People have stopped to help. Like a man who told me to get down from the hand rail of a pier that I was walking on; one slip and I would have fallen into a too shallow spot in the ocean. Then there was the man who pulled me from the bridge, and the other one who got me paramedics when I took all of my pills. There have probably been dozens of other ways that people helped keep me out of harm’s way as I walked for hours through the streets of Los Angeles, hallucinating.

Even though my credit card has been stolen five times in two years, in my life there have been more good people than bad people. We can all help make those odds true for everyone. I know the Bible quote, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” In a better world we are. Look out for the vulnerable, keep your eyes on them. If nothing else, ask them, “Are you okay? Do you need help?”

The goodness in our heart is needed all the time, wherever we go. Let’s wear it like a badge to present to people who are lost, or hurting or scared. We can all be superheroes to someone, ask me, I have seen at least three.