Lots of Jagged Rocks Thrown into One Small Space

When I did a project much like Sidewalks several years ago, I remember going home and telling my mom excitedly, “I learned to do conflict!” (Her first reaction was confusion- I probably should have said ‘conflict resolution’.) I was excited because I learned that conflict, when done well, brings deep intimacy in friendships.

Something mysterious happens when you’ve hurt someone and you go to them in humility (or embarrassment!), choking out that scary admission: “I was wrong.” Or when you’re the one who’s been hurt and you’re gracious and honest.  God can get at those exposed places. That sort of friendship was unlike anything my college-student self had before experienced. So I was eager to share how I had learned about conflict.

Other recent Sidewalks alumni held similar fervor. They enthusiastically told members of our team, “You’re doing Sidewalks? Awesome! You’re going to do conflict!!”  So our group approached this hyped-up but rather scary idea of conflict together. Imagine day three of Orientation: as we waited to hear out speaker, Alison,  I could almost hear the unspoken objections. Doesn’t conflict mean you’re doing something wrong? Isn’t that the opposite of Christian community? It’s much better to be polite and quiet, right?

But Alison reassured us, “It isn’t about conflict, really. It’s about becoming.” We’re all stuck in a rock tumbler this summer. And our sharp edges are going to be rubbing against each other’s sharp edges. That’s good news! God’s inviting us to let our gritty selves be exposed so he can deal with us. Together.

Would you take a minute now to pray for our rock tumbler community? We’ve jumped in, but we’re not yet letting each other see our gritty-sharp edges. That’s going to take some nerve. Praise God.

Another LONG, COMPLICATED conversation

Tonight half our team attended Chapel at Water Street (homeless shelter).  For an hour we sat in a room with people experiencing homelessness.  We exited the building to find it raining outside, and dashed a few feet to the car, which took us home (home: as in a place with a roof where we won’t get rained on).  As we settled in the living room, Kacy started voicing her guilt and anger – anger that some people were homeless and would be out on the streets tonight, and guilt at being able to just come home after Chapel.

Cue the LONG, COMPLICATED conversation.  Sidewalks is measured in long, complicated conversations. 

Soon the entire team is sitting in the living room, talking about homelessness and wrestling with guilt.  Frustration spills out at not being able to help.  We take a long tangent about if it’s ok to want to help – several articles and speakers have challenged everyone to put aside heroic helping and enter in to merely learn.  That tension spins us again into an earlier conversation about why Jesus says “Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the Kingdom of God.”  The question of “why are we really here” takes us down another road.  And we come back to the guilt of privilege.

Because we’ve covered so much ground (and definitely talked in circles a bit), Lizzie suggests we share what we want to remember from the conversation before we move into prayer.  Here’s a sampling of what was shared (note the lack of resolution!):

Rhi – we need to make things long-term, to aim for changes that last through our lives instead of quick-fixes.

Josh – building relationships is everything.  The way I view Water Street has changed already.  On Day 1 I asked, “How can I help you?” when checking someone in; on Day 2 I asked, “How’ve you been since yesterday?”

Lizzie – I still have this overarching feeling of guilt about wanting to help.  I don’t know what to do with this because I get what Becky said about how “helping” separates the helper from the helped.

Kacy – I still don’t know what to do with the tension between our lives and the lives of people at Water Street.  I don’t know what to do with these strong emotions, or how to use my privilege to creatively build the kingdom.

 

Jesse – if our hearts keep breaking, we will use our power for others and for the kingdom.

Betsy – about the only thing we can immediately give someone is dignity and our expectation to learn and have some of our needs met by them.  One of the worst things about being poor is people thinking you have nothing to offer.

Jesse – we could treat clients as if they have as much to offer us as professors on campus.

Becky – a friend once told me “Don’t be upset that you have privilege, but be upset that I don’t.”

Lizzie – long-term care for people is possible.  The apostle Paul’s heart broke for everyone he met.  He carried that broken-heartedness and care around for years; it fueled his prayer and mission.

We then entered into a time of lament.  Lament is a new concept for many on the team.  These words from Reconciling All Things by Emmanuel Katongole and Chris Rice guided us:

 

“The first language of the church in a deeply broken world is not strategy, but prayer.  The journey of reconciliation is grounded in a call to see and encounter the rupture of this world so truthfully that we are literally slowed down.  We are called to a space where any explanation or action is too easy, too fast, too shallow – a space where the right response can only be a desperate cry directed to God.  We are called to learn the anguished cry of lament.”

Love Your Neighbor as Yourself

I came here sort of knowing a couple individuals from other InterVarsity events, but for the most part I'm dedicating six weeks of my life to people who for all I know have also dedicated six weeks of their life to me. But what a delightful group of bright-faced people I am sharing a house with. Plenty of joyous laughter and music has already filled the house, and it's only day two. It is clear and exciting that everyone has unique personalities and gifts that inspire and intrigue me, and it's only day two. We have entered and explored the city, talked to the locals, prayed for the locals, saw some brokenness, experienced some sadness, and happily visited the corner store with two bucks for ice cream, and it's only day two. But six weeks?

"What is the gospel?"
"What is the kingdom?"
"Where did you see God's beauty before you knew Jesus?"
"Where are you from?"
"Are you guys lost? Aren't you with another group of people?"
"Are you one of the new kids?"
"Do you have any questions about conflict?"
"What do you want to do with your art degree?"
"What is justice?"
"Should I confront this?"


Questions our team heard from staff, neighbors, and each other...loaded questions that have our minds well occupied and yet it's only day two. But six weeks?

A man sat with his young son on the front steps of his house eating a sub and chips. We were making our way across the lumpy sidewalk that guided our first exploration into the city. He was very interested in the four of us that were walking through his neighborhood with backpacks and a camera. He inquired us of what we were doing and why we were here, and after about a minute of covering the basics, he told us about the hope of job opportunity that brought him to Lancaster, and the devastation of kidney failure and other health issues that have gotten in the way of his dreams. His eyes were red and he looked tired but he was surrounded by other family and friends, and said that the reason he liked Lancaster was that it was a good place to raise the little ones he loves.

Going down another lumpy path, we passed a young teenage girl playing with her two very young siblings. The smile she gave us was very warm, and the curious eyes of the young boy were wide and staring. But what really got me was the toddler girl sitting very proud and tall on their porch step. She was shy at first, but after we smiled at her and said "hello," she quickly beamed and squealed out a "HEWWO!" and continued laughing as we turned the corner.

There's something odd, awkward, and a little uncomfortable about coming together with a group of people I don't really know, in a place I don't really know, doing who knows exactly what. We have a vague idea that we are on a mission for Jesus, and that's very true. We all know that He will definitely teach us something. But as of now, we don't know what that looks like. But isn't it beautiful, that we have all encountered people that have touched our hearts and we are excited, and it's only day two.

 Part of what fueled my excitement for Sidewalks was the idea that I will be more awesome after it's done. I knew relationships would have to happen and that would be good and stuff and all, but that didn't excite me as much. I mean, I have a close community of friends at home, an awesome boyfriend, and family that loves me..so who else do I really need to be in relationship with? C.S. Lewis talked about this once in his book The Weight of Glory: "It may be possible for each of us to think too much of his own potential glory hereafter; it is hardly possible for him to think too often or too deeply about that of his neighbor...It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you say it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations...Next to Jesus himself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses."

Bret and Betsy are surrounded by lots of neighbors they love and trust, and we are encouraged to get to know them. In the house, we are constantly surrounded by each other. Lots of neighbors. Lots of opportunities to learn how to love them like we love ourselves. And this is only day two. What will happen in 6 weeks?

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

or "What is Sidewalks Again?"

Sidewalks is sharing a house with fifteen people.

Sidewalks is putting up with all the odd socks in the living room.

Sidewalks is learning how to dougie, juggle, and do a mean frat-snap tobacco-slap.

Sidewalks is admitting that you miss your nightly John-butt-whupping at Dutch Blitz.

Sidewalks is finishing up a four-hour budget conversation and realizing it’s two in the morning.

Sidewalks is being truthful during conflict.

Sidewalks is trusting that if you cut a person’s ear off, Jesus can put it back on.

Sidewalks puts the unity in community.

Sidewalks is teaching English to a refugee from Burma.

Sidewalks is listening to a former attorney tell you how he became homeless.

Sidewalks is getting a silly song stuck in your head.

Sidewalks is preparing a talk about sex thirty minutes after it was supposed to start.

Sidewalks is spanking the guys at CHOC at checkers.

Sidewalks is God using three white kids to minister to eleven inner-city teens.

Sidewalks puts the hip in internship.

Sidewalks is diving into life in the city.

Sidewalks is learning by heart the tune of a particularly sensitive car alarm.

Sidewalks is buying freshly fried empanadas and eating them in the cook’s kitchen.

Sidewalks is giving people dignity and respect without waiting for them to earn it.

Sidewalks is learning about racial reconciliation from a four-year-old.

Sidewalks is trusting the leading of the Holy Spirit.

Sidewalks is loving people even if they don’t fit your theology.

Sidewalks puts the Cross in culture-crossing.

Sidewalks is learning to put what’s wrong into words and trace the rottenness to its roots.

Sidewalks is noticing an eerie emptiness at the Marriot.

Sidewalks is checking into CHOC for a night of life with almost nothing.

Sidewalks is a bullet grazing the roof of our car.

Sidewalks is waking up to news of a crime scene around the corner.

Sidewalks is looking into the depths of the darkness so we stop taking the light for granted.

Sidewalks puts the amen in lament.

Sidewalks is letting God screw with your worldview.

Sidewalks is the shock of watching all your assumptions shatter on a tile floor.

Sidewalks is two days of not talking to God because He might not let you go to the mission field.

Sidewalks is questioning your motives for questioning your motives.

Sidewalks is throwing out dusty rules to make room for new life.

Sidewalks is coming to terms with the prospect of a lot of long conversations with lots of people for the rest of your life.

Sidewalks puts the quest in question.

Sidewalks is saying hi to everyone you walk past.

Sidewalks is sitting on the porch watching people play hopscotch.

Sidewalks is praying for a person you’ve just met.

Sidewalks is choose-your-own adventure.

Sidewalks is eating cake and cantalope with a sage Muslim gardener and a crew of middle schoolers.

Sidewalks is saying yes to a cold cola on a hot day.

Sidewalks puts the try in relational ministry.

Sidewalks is getting excited about having conflict.

Sidewalks is dreaming about new ways of living and following Jesus.

Sidewalks is taking inventory of what we need to be content.

Sidewalks is tuning in to our Holy Ghost imagination.

Sidewalks is building up the ancient ruins and repairing the ruined cities.

Sidewalks puts the do in Kingdom of God.

Sidewalks is learning to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God.

Five Blocks Away But Worlds Apart

Throughout Sidewalks I interned at Water Street Rescue Mission, where four days per week I interacted with many homeless folks in Lancaster. I listened to the stories of the men, women, and children I met. Each story was different. Different backgrounds, life choices, tragedies, obstacles, injustices, levels of hope for the future. Different attitudes towards their current state of homelessness. It was truly a blessing to hear each story. My eyes were opened both to injustice and astounding faith. At various points I could relate to some of the stories-this area of brokenness or that frustration. Yet overwhelmingly, I felt distanced from every person who told me their story.

Why? Well, it's kind of obvious. Many wore the same outfits everyday. I wore clean clothes and a red "Intern" lanyard. They worried about their next meal. I ate a snack almost everyday when I got home from work. Oh-and I slept in a bed. I had space that felt like mine. They slept on mats and had absolutely no space to call their own.

Enter the plotting (and lovable) InterVarsity staff. To bridge some of the distance I had been feeling and highlight the levels of privilege many of us have always lived with, they crafted a simulation that turned our Sidewalks world upside down for a night. Joining me to tell the story is my wonderful fellow Bucknellian, David. Check out our experiences below!

10 am: Community Meeting. It's budget time! Usually we each receive our "week's pay" of roughly $30, pool our resources, and plan our spending. Not this week.
Caroline: Oh snap. I got "fired." That means no paycheck. Which means I will not be able to pay my rent... which means I have no place to sleep tonight.
David: Oh snap. I got a $100 raise. I'm rolling deep this week...$130. And my superiors are sending me to the Marriott Hotel/Convention Center for some R&R. Nice.

6 pm:
Caroline: I'm hungry! At work ("fired" doesn't really mean fired in real life, just the simulation). No time for dinner, working 4-9:30!
David: I'm hungry too! I was done working at 3pm, so I've been chilling until dinnertime at the house. Ethiopian cuisine, yum! Looking forward to tonight; my bag is already packed.

7:15-7:30pm:
Caroline: Busy, busy, busy. Still working!
David: Just arrived at the Marriott. Wow, it's big and fancy. I felt kind of important going up to the counter saying, "Hi, my room is already paid for. My name's David Gorman." Up to the 16th floor. My room is awesome (huge comfy bed with four pillows...I'll only need one) with an incredible view! The sidewalk is a world away from up here. I can see the Water Street shelter from up here.

9:35 pm:
Caroline: Outside the shelter, I take off my I.D. and stuff it in my suitcase (no home to store my possessions!). I walk in the doors to the shelter. It's strange to be on the other side of the desk. The worker asks me my name and a few other particulars. Another points me to a mat near the front of the room. That's where I'll sleep-- a rectangular mat about 1 inch thick. In a room full of 50 people.
David: After exploring the hotel/convention center for an hour, I venture outside. The hotel was eerily quiet (minus the piano music coming from a mechanical piano...what??) and I wanted some fresh air. I wandered around the city, found a bench and sat, listening to the sounds of life around me. I have the freedom to stay out all night if I wanted -- no curfew.

10 pm:
Caroline: Lights out! I start to stretch out on my mat... nope, can't do that-- unless I want to bless my neighbor with a pair of runner's feet in her face (yes, gross... and yes, runner's feet are especially icky, ha). So I curl up on my blanket, pull my thin sheet on, and lay my head down on a small towel I brought for a pillow. Still in my work clothes. Still hungry. As I try to calm down enough to fall asleep, I notice a few things. One-- there are a lot of people in this room. Two-- it is not dark. The streetlights keep it pretty light. Three--the woman next to me whispers "I'm hungry" to her friend. Wow. How can I ever say I am hungry? I had lunch and I will have breakfast. That was hard to hear.
David: I'm tired of being outside and the pool I saw during my hotel tour is wooing me back to the Marriott. The pool doesn't disappoint; it's incredibly life-giving and fun.

11 pm:
Caroline: Still awake. It is LOUD. A lot of snoring! Every few minutes someone is getting up to go to the bathroom. I can't get comfortable. I ball up my sheet to support my neck a bit more and wrap my blanket around my shoulders to get a little bit warmer (the AC is on). It's going to be a long night.
David: I journal for a little bit, shower, then get ready for bed. I set my alarm for 7:30. Lights off. My room is dead silent. My bed feels so good. It's full and fluffy and huge -- I can stretch my long legs. My eyes grow heavy and my mind drifts off...

2-3 am:
Caroline: Can't sleep. Not comfortable. Cold. Loud snorers and shuffling feet are not noises that lull one to sleep.
David: Zzzzz.....

5:45 am:
Caroline: Time to get up! Lights go on and everyone clears out by 6. I am surprised by how many have left the room already. I roll up my sheet and blanket as a worker hands me a meal card. The shelter also provides some meals for their clients. I stand up and head out the door, rolling my suitcase behind me. The workers have already stacked all the mats. The walk home is quiet. It's sprinkling.
David: Zzzzz......

7:45 am:
Caroline: I am awake and at home. Simulation is over and I find myself comfortably situated in a recliner with a cup of coffee in my hand. An experience many of those sleeping around me may or may not have for the rest of their lives.
David: I wake up -- good morning! Time to order room service! I order the pancakes from the children's menu, but it's still too much for me to finish. I leave the Marriott refreshed with a full stomach, ready to take on the day.

This experience rocked me. I still feel an incredible amount of distance from the homeless I worked with, for obvious reasons. Yet experiencing even just a little of what they experience on a regular basis gave me sensitivity to their situation, grew my understanding of homelessness, and gave me a taste of what it truly means to come alongside the poor in their struggles.

Father, soften my heart and give me the courage to seize future opportunities You give me to immerse myself in the world of the impoverished. Help me see from where they stand.