listening

friends hanging out together on a Sunday evening before the rain

Always just a tad overbearing… at least it was with smiles, hugs and a weekly cry for extra attention.  “Aren’t you going to take MY picture.”  I have so many pictures from across the years that I took just because she refused to move until I got out the phone.

Arms folded, again stopping the line, frowning, angry… she said it was her first night in the line since she didn’t get a Christmas backpack.  “How could you not have a backpack for ME!?!”  Apologizing again, I reminded her that HUNDREDS had gone without a pack.  Assaulting my emotions, eyes flaring, she asked: “How could you do that?  How could you send us away at Christmas?’

All I could think of was the nights she was bright, smiling, demanding a photo with friends… no smiles a month after Christmas… the pain wouldn’t go away.  The weather had been cold all week.  She had a heavy sweatshirt- but it was starting to drizzle -a cold drizzle that became a solid rainstorm lasting into Monday evening.  Everyone knew it was coming.  The bright spark in her eyes was gone.  The unforgiving step-children of urban poverty: anger and frustration had taken residence and were unmistakable as she turned and walked away.

“Hurting people hurt people.”  Folks living in poverty, anywhere in the world, are hurting.  People living in the shadow of the overwhelming wealth of Los Angeles- neglected, overlooked, invisible to those of us who can enjoy the rain in comfort -carry the extra social burden, whether they’ve earned it or not, of rejection and failure…  Just for being poor.

We do our best to listen.  Most Sunday nights people are so incredibly friendly and thankful, much kinder than we deserve as strangers and aliens who wander into their darkness as visitors.  Last week two different men were on a rampage: they’re part of our routine and they know it- one usually drunk -both battling mental illness.  They get as close to the food tables as possible and begin to loudly rant… sometimes it’s political, other times about social concerns and often just the very loud, foul-mouthed cry for attention.  They’re hurting and have yet to find a way to express it that seems effective and so they yell.

Evelyn, leading the food table this week with Jodi taking time with her husband Chuck, had been next to a shouting man all evening.  I approached him when he was shouting in the middle of the street, imploring him to step out of harms way.  Jumping deeper into traffic, throwing down his plate of food, he glared at me and the fount of anger only grew.  Evelyn had the answer.  After listening to another night of garbage from our sick friend- she approached him, told him how much she cared and asked for a hug -dumbstruck, he wandered silently into the night.

Jackets for Jesus – every article of clothing, each meal served, even the cup of cold water (or tea or hot chocolate), we do our best to serve as if we were serving Jesus.  Not just to meet their need… but to address our desire to serve, to share, to grow beyond the strict confines of our comfort and somehow, in an act of living worship, serve Him. We laugh, see old friends, have fun… but from deep within we know we’re being transformed, our minds renewed, our hearts and eyes opened and we are blessed… so we do our best to listen, especially when people are hurting, the weather’s cold or wet and it’s evident that good people feel left out or left behind.  We may not be able to ensure that everyone’s fed or that each person gets a Christmas present – but until they do – we can be there, we can listen.

“Do you know what was in that backpack” he asked.  I did.  I’d packed it.  It had broken my heart to watch this old friend go without at Christmas.  We talked about the items he was enjoying most.  He thanked me.  All I could say, especially after being confronted in line just 30 or 40 minutes earlier, was: “Wish I could have made a pack for every person who went without at Christmas.”  His veil of cynicism dropping for a moment, he said: “I know… but I just wanted to say ‘thanks.'”

Little miracles… that God would let us be “Light” in dark places… that He’d help us learn how to listen… that we could somehow begin to meet so great a need… He’s too Good.  He’s God.  He’s Love.  You’re invited to join us this Sunday evening.  You’re needed in places you’ve never been.  God wants to use Sunday nights and a group of friends of the streets to change your heart like He’s changed and continues to change ours.  Now, more than ever.

for changing lives,

Pastor Eric

Eric M. Denton, pastor

Central Community