A few weeks ago I was in my kitchen microwaving a plate of leftovers. Mindlessly watching the green numbers count down. And thinking philosophical thoughts, as I usually do when making lunch.
My phone started buzzing. Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz. I pulled it out of my pocket, and was relieved to find that it was not another telemarketer wanting to sell me cruise tickets to bora bora - but it was Father Bill. I picked it up: “Hi Father Bill! What’s up?”
He shared the unfortunate news: because of COVID-19, volunteers over the age of 40 could no longer run St. Matthias’ soup kitchen. Because they were considered “high-risk” people. And after he shared the news, Father Bill asked if my housemates and I (we’re all in our 20’s) would be willing to help serve meals.
I talked with my housemates. Then called Father Bill again and told him we would help. And a few hours later, I found myself putting on plastic gloves, rolling a cart with bagged lunches out into the church courtyard, and facing a small sea of faces - of the people I was about to serve lunch to.
Since that day a couple weeks ago, I’ve seen a few things I’d like to tell you about. The first of them being, it’s true: COVID-19 is hitting the vulnerable the hardest. While the local Starbucks shutting down has meant less matcha lattes for me… it has meant no bathrooms, charging ports, drinking water, or warm space to escape the rain from, for these our neighbors. Pray for them.
Second, I’ve been reminded of how much I take for granted in life. Every day in which I do not thank God for the roof over my head, a place to shower, and the stove on which I can make hot food… is a day which I have walked through blindly. Blind to the countless, amazing gifts which God has given me.
And perhaps most importantly, I’ve been reminded of just how wrong we are when we call a place “God-forsaken.” Because it is precisely in these places - the seemingly forgotten corners of the neighborhood, and of the world - where Jesus is especially present. In a way that is hard to explain. And so if I want to meet Jesus, I really ought to spend more time here…
… listening to this elderly couple talk in anguish, about how they were unfairly evicted from their apartment, and how they have no idea what to do next. Laughing with this man who is my age about how “we just ran out of sushi and caviar, and so you are going to get PB&J again today.” Watching as this woman opens up her monthly social security check with trembling hands, and she nearly breaks down crying she is so happy to have a little money again.
Every time I come here, I can breathe a little easier. Because Jesus is here. Yes, there is a lot of pain here. A lot of need. But Jesus is here. And when Jesus is here, my heart knows that it is all going to be okay. Yes. I want to come here more often.
