A Different Kind of Ministry

Whenever I’ve thrown a Going Away Party for close friends in the past, I’m happy to celebrate their next step forward in life, but still a part of me is sad they’re leaving. I’ve found when you throw a Going Away Party for a homeless friend, the underlying sadness isn’t there. Just relief. Just joy. And gratitude they finally have the opportunity to move on (and into) a new place in life. That they are literally moving forward.

Recently we threw a Going Away Party for (formerly) homeless friends of ours who got jobs and left the area. They were so elated to finally have income (the first step to stability) which could eventually mean so much more: housing, heat, laundry, a kitchen to cook in, and showers. And ultimately, to no longer be too cold, too smelly, too tired, too overwhelmed, or too discouraged to reach for more.

That one first step toward stability is enough to show a person that there is a whole staircase of possibility – and not just for other people – for them.

So we celebrated our friends’ major life achievement with dinner, balloons, and of course cake. But nothing compares to the sweetness of stability.

That was several weeks ago. I’ve decided I’m going to ask my no-longer-homeless friends if they’d still like me to bring over some breakfast and hot coffee every so often. Not because they need it, or because I want to serve them, but because we’re friends. And friends have coffee together.

Whether loving my homeless friends or non-homeless friends, the best ministry I can offer is friendship. Not handouts, or food, or even opportunities, but a piece of myself. To interrupt, or even inconvenience my life to enter into theirs.

Greater love has no one than this,

that someone lay down his life for his friends.

John 15:13

A Different Kind of Ministry is one that believes loving someone is proving them wrong when they say they’ll always be homeless and alone. Not just listening, not just showing compassion, but proving them wrong. A ministry that eliminates the need for itself by entering into people’s situations to help them identify and take the next step forward. Not pity, but progress: making homelessness a thing of their past.

Wouldn’t the best homeless ministry be loving people, one-by-one, out of homelessness until there was no longer a need for the ministry?

That’s my goal now.

I’m all about loving this community that has formed. But over the course of the past several months, we’ve seen almost half of the homeless we serve transition from tents to housing. I can’t help but think God doesn’t just want us to love our neighbors, but to love them as we would want to be loved if in their situation – out of homelessness.

Love your neighbor as yourself.

Mark 12:31

After being involved with the homeless as we have, I know without a shadow of a doubt that if I were homeless, I wouldn’t want to be homeless anymore. Which means if someone were to really love me, they would try to help me get out of homelessness. They would care about what I care about. They would know I don’t just want compassion or breakfast, but someone to care enough about me, to believe enough in me, to help me get unstuck and back into a place in life where I could thrive again.

Lately this ministry for me has been a goal of identifying someone who wants to get out of homelessness, and is ready to do what it takes personally to help make that a reality, and literally saying out loud to them: “You’re Next.”

You’re next to get out of here. You’re next to climb up out of this tent and into a future. And I will help you.

So far it has seemed to work. But it requires a lot; you have to set your full attention to someone else in order to understand the full nuances (no one’s story is the same) and identify what a next step could be. Do they need medical help, have an addiction, paralyzing shame, an abusive relationship, a criminal record, no access to government identification? There is always a next step. And I think ministry is being friends with someone enough to enter into their lives and help them figure out what it is, and take it.

Speaking “You’re Next” over someone feels like it’s somehow telling them it’s OK to leave this lifestyle. That it’s OK to move on even if their homeless friends don’t want them to (a real, co-dependent trap that keeps some people stuck for years). It communicates: “It’s time to move forward.” And they can tell if you mean it. And if you’re friends, they might even believe you. That seems like real ministry to me.

Our friends that I talked about in the Moving Forward post are now living in a house. Shortly after they moved in we took them dinner and flowers as part of a Housewarming Celebration. It felt so weird (and cool) walking down their street and up to their front doorstep (not tent) to be invited in. Now they were hosting us. Now they were serving us.

Now none of us were homeless anymore, just friends who want to move forward in life: the product of a Different Kind of Ministry that I hope for each and every one of us.

Luminate Movement

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