The greatest blessing of my senior year was stumbling upon the unofficial, “Church of the Homeless” back in the fall of 2015. It’s unlike any other church I’ve attended, but the work of the Lord is often moving in the most unexpected places. The first time I met them in Jefferson Park, I experienced an unprecedented sense of peace, love, and acceptance in this community. This peace I found in this raw, uninhibited, and slightly intoxicated community kept me back each week. It didn’t matter how sketchy or dangerous the situation may have been, the transcendent peace and clarity I experience among these people who had so little inspired me and began bringing friends to share in this wonderful experience.
Let me explain some background info. The church started about couple years ago as a formerly homeless man named Bob who found the Lord in California after suffering from an addiction to crystal meth for years. He began reaching out to prostitutes and homeless residing in California and is one of the few people I know who has received death threats because of sharing the gospel. Bob is big man who radiates the unconditional love of Christ in truly inspiring ways. He began reaching out to the homeless in Jefferson Park one day, giving them donuts and reading the Bible with them. He later joined forces with Miguel, another formerly homeless veteran who has made it his mission to feed the homeless community he was once apart of. Since then the church has moved locations and many have come to know Jesus, finding renewed life, hope, and even freedom from their addictions. By the grace of God, what started with no more that 5 men in a circle has turned into about non-profit ministry with about 40 people who regularly attend to eat and be fed spiritually.
On a normal Saturday several volunteers and I would hand out gifts, (socks, cigarettes, food, clothes etc.), followed by serving food prepared by Miguel. We would gather around after to hear a sermon prepared by Bob, and close by holding hands and praying in a circle. The closing prayer is powerful, often filled with prayers of gratitude for life and grief from those in the community who have died. Yet in the midst of pain and brokenness comes with a peace that surpassing all understanding. As if nothing else exists except for the hands your holding and the God who cares.
A few weeks ago the prayer circle was a little more… interesting. A fight broke out between couple homeless women near us. We tried to continue praying despite the yelling, hoping it would pass, but when someone through a punch we had to a brief intermission and couple guys broke it up. Bob perceived it as an attack from the enemy, trying to rob us of our time with God. Unfortunately, this attack worked for a time because it’s hard to experience peace when a fight is going on. But as it often works with Christ, attacks are followed by a beautiful story of redemption.
A few of us of stayed after the prayer circle to hang out with the guys. A younger man named Skyler lingered with us. Skyler currently has a bullet-sized hole in his back from surgery, a pierced tongue, is walking on a cane, and is explaining to us how he is schizophrenic (asking to touch us to make sure we were real). It was safe to say I was skeptical he brought out a guitar. I was expecting to listen to some drunken jingle and preparing to be polite; probably giving a insincere compliment on his effort. But to my surprise… he was amazing. He sang songs he wrote, which were so good that I assumed they were covers. He sang a few songs about God and then transitioned into some 90s covers, which are always great. Skyler opened up about how he was 3 days sober from a 5-year addiction to painkillers. He explained how he has been severely depressed in the last few days from quitting cold turkey. The joy on his face clearly expressed how his depression had passed. It was at this moment, the moment where liquor and hash oil were being passed amongst the homeless, the moment were being serenaded by a schizophrenic musician, the moment where we filled with immense joy from his alleviated depression, and his progress in getting off painkillers where I thought to myself, “This is one of the most beautiful moments of your life, savor it.” Soon followed by, “what other moments have I missed out on by choosing to be comfortable?”
Lately it seems like whenever I listen to a video sermon or read a Christian book, there is an underlining message of criticizing the American church as a whole for being inactive, comfortable, apathetic, and for not dreaming big enough. It dawned on me today that besides tuning out the Holy Spirit in our lives and ignoring the authority God’s word because it involves trials and uncertainty, the real travesty of staying in our comfort zones as Christians is that we’re missing out. I once heard, “there is paralleled joy for the risks you take for Christ.” As a man who struggled with the practice of F.O.M.O (fear of missing out) for years on things that I found didn’t really matter and didn’t satisfy, I feel challenged now to embrace it in a new way. To have a godly fear of missing out on the incredibly beautiful moments God has in store for me like the one’s I experience that day, if I am willing to step out in faith. To be excited and expectant of new heights of risk, joy, and bliss like one’s I experienced that day, if I’m willing to step out in faith. Like the ones I’m expecting to experience all over the world, as I step out in faith.
“And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus.” Ephesians 2:6-7
