Project Dignity

“What’s wrong with you guys!? You are the weirdoes for still hanging out here with us!”

I was able to laugh along with this line from a humorous ex-convict, because it supports the project. The project is dignity. To honour those who’ve not been dignified with time. Those who receive only cold hard stares, or vacant eyes.

 Often with this project, we are the ones who are undignified. And if it needs to be us who lose our dignity, for the sake of restoring someone else’s, then that is perfectly worthwhile. Perfectly part of the project.

 Because, “I’ll become even more undignified that this.” – King David (2 Sam 6:22)

Shalom.

Keep Attempting Handshakes

He looked at me as though we had never met. I had come to him, giving him the choice to accept or dismiss me. After I had said his name, my outstretched hand hung in the air, my smile not mirrored on his face. “You must have the wrong guy…” His stride lengthened as he accelerated away from us, leaving my extended hand slightly colder in the winter air.

In the ultimate act of courage and humility, God extends himself to us. Even though we are geniuses at unreciprocated love, He stands with us. We are free to call Him Emmanuel, even after we flip him off.

There is a deep part of us humans that wants to be known and recognized. We want someone to call us by our name. We long, and search for home. Simultaneously, we battle the disillusionment we have experienced over and over, when such people forget us. When home collapses around us.

To truly create home for others, we are called to be faithful and present. So we keep extending our hands. Continue to remember names. We go out and search for those who have suppressed their search for home. Just as He consistently searches for us when we go astray. 

Love shed for us

“When the Spirit of God has shed abroad the love of God in our hearts, we begin deliberately to identify ourselves with Jesus Christ’s interests in other people, and Jesus Christ is interested in every kind of [person] there is. We have no right in Christian work to be guided by our affinities; this is one of the biggest tests of our relationship to Jesus Christ.” (Emphasis added)

-       Oswald Chambers 

We must be careful to be faithful to His radical call, not preoccupied with how useful we may be. 

A friend recently told me she has felt challenged to do communion a lot more these days but she added, "not just in the literal sense." Love has been shed for us; let us now shed it abroad for others.

Shalom.

Death

I felt like I attended an unusual amount of funerals early this fall. It was draining, and many times I found myself yelling at God. Death is a mystery that I don’t understand, and I am convinced it is simply not part of the plan. God’s plan is life. (John 10:10-11)

After two sudden deaths in our community I learned more fully what it means to “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn” (Romans 11:15). I was challenged to join in the joyful times of laughter and worship with friends, while sharing in the tears and embracing the sorrow of the wounded.

I also was challenged by a time when a couple guys discussed life and death on a road between Jerusalem and Emmaus (Luke 24: 13-35). They walked with “faces downcast” (verse 17). Similar to how I have felt at times. Christ’s journey on the road with them was an effort to convince them that “to suffer these things” was essential to “glory” (verse 26). Glory is a big word. I want to further discover the place that suffering has in our walk, as I have realized that it is essential, but I think I never realized how courageous it is to pray like Paul:

“I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.”

(Philippians 3: 10-11)

Death isn’t the end of the story. This is what spurs us on to accept sacrifices, suffering, and death readily as we step in stride with Jesus.

No Authority

We as an outreach team we’re inspired early on by Sanctuary Church in Toronto. Sanctuary’s method for outreach reminded us that when we are on the street we lose our authority. We don’t have the keys, we aren’t on our turf, and we come to serve in humility. When we are in front of someone panhandling, or involved in any other form of commerce, we are in our sister or brother’s place of work. We are on our best behaviour and show genuine respect. We meet Christ in our brothers and sisters. Reverence would be an appropriate word. 

This week a couple of us encountered a man from the drop-in community, but we didn’t know his name. Our interaction was awkward. It was difficult. We were subjected to a patronizing tone as we stood awkwardly on the ground where he clearly felt comfortable. We were guests. We were outside of our comfort zones, trying to serve, but clearly being pushed away (although he would then call us back as he clearly did want to talk). He cannot be blamed for his hostility. Even during the minutes we stood there chatting, handfuls of university students or older “responsible” adults walked by, many of whom muttered disparaging remarks or blatant insults, while others completely ignored his presence. No one offered anything.

This is how people forget what it is like to receive compassion. When all one is offered is silence, wintery glares or worse, it is difficult to remember how to extend hospitality to those that step into the circle of light on the pavement that is your “turf.” Although we weren’t welcomed with open arms, our loss of authority was important. We must continually learn how to pour love into the fault-lines in the armour used as emotional defence mechanisms. We must also recognize what kind of effect it has when we belittle or patronize those that step into our turf, where we hold the keys.