As we headed down to the Salvation Army to serve a hot Thanksgiving meal to the homeless, I wondered what to expect. I soon discovered that we would be dishing out meals for nearly 800 people! Upon arrival, we armed ourselves with bright orange Home Depot aprons (they were sponsoring the event) that felt like a marketing campaign, and plastic gloves that screamed “I don’t want your dirty germs!” I cowered in the corner, embarrassed by the “cattle herding” mockery of these beautiful people. The exuberant enthusiasm of the workers announced “Blessed are WE who are feeding your mouths.” Everything in my being longed to sit beside each lost sheep, hearing the hardship and listening to their stories. But alas, we were prohibited from taking up a chair so that others could be pumped in and out of the system.

Why can’t anyone see what is wrong with this picture?

The subtle arrogance of the workers coupled with the aggressive yanking of trays beneath their very mouths made me completely frustrated. As I watched and silently prayed for these people, I began to feel a surge of the Spirit that pushed me to begin conversations with them despite the rules and order. A man named John told me of his needle using habit that began as a medicated ADD child and progressed into a self-medicated heroin addiction. Though my heart ached for him, I was comforted to know that is girlfriend of 8 years was by his side. His heart was so warm, yet his spirit seemed to have given up….

As I continued to walk through the aisles aiming to see them as Jesus would, I sensed eyes all around me, watching as I disrupted the perfectly ordered system. Some noticed that I had no desire to grab their trays; instead I wanted to grab a glimpse of their hearts. There was an air of interest on the workers part, intermixed with a sense of disobedience - WHY is she talking to THESE people? Doesn’t she see that we need to feed their stomachs? It was as if I burst their “I’m doing an amazing act of service” bubble, and they didn’t like it one bit. Which brings me back to Freedome…

Searching for God’s leading to the next person, I walked past a table to catch a friendly “Hello! How are you doing tonight?” Taken aback, I turned to find a welcoming smile upon the face of a man whose appearance and demeanor spoke of more knowledge and wisdom than some of my so-called Christian friends. He began telling me of his story - drug addiction, homelessness, and freedom.

Yes, FREEDOM.

He shared his stories, poems, and songs of his experiences of life on the streets and journey with Christ. COMPLETELY PROFOUND. All time ceased as I spoke to him - I noticed not one person as I fixed my eyes on the image of Jesus.

But wait a minute, how could Jesus be in the face of a drug addict?

And so he shattered all of my notions of the definition of a follower of Christ. No books, no discussions, nor theological ideas could have summed up the Kingdom of God blasting forth more than my encounter with this man. THIS, my friends, this is what our hearts long for, the sweetness of life amidst barren deserts. Found not in bright lights and big displays, but in the humble face of a lowly man. Here I was, face to face with Jesus, unexpectedly in the eyes of a poor, drug-addicted homeless man who understood what it means to live by faith. Perhaps we have been looking in the wrong places to discover God?

My moment of grace and wonder was quickly burst by a worker who charged that we must “Wrap it up. We need that seat to be open for the next.” What?! Was this guy serious? It took every ounce in my being to resist biting back with “Is it more important to feed their mouths or to feed their souls?” I had the image of Jesus being questioned and persecuted by the Pharisees and was overcome with frustration and anger. Yet as I looked back to Freedome, he had the expression of peace despite the unwelcome interference. He stood up and embraced me as we said goodbye. There we were, in the very center of the room with all eyes fixed on us, many wondering why two very different people were extending such care to one another. I discovered myself in the midst of the intersection of heaven and earth. The moment was both powerful and priceless.

I walked away from the encounter inspired, yet stirred with a new longing. A longing to seek the face of Jesus in the eyes of the poor; to experience him in a fresh, unexpected fashion. To look for him in places I have not sought. And to place my assumptions and opinions in the hands of the Father, as He speaks HIS truth, HIS love to a heart that is open, yet broken. A heart that is loved, yet hurting. Sorrowful, yet ever-rejoicing in the goodness of a gracious God.

Heaven’s Door Blues

Like a shot-up southern rebel
I’m trying to find my home sweet home
It seems I lost my way somewhere
Now I’m forever stuck on roam
And I just can’t ever settle down
Or keep my feet on the ground
I lost my head up in the clouds
And I don’t feel like coming down
I’ve got the Heaven’s Door Blues.

Hey preacher man, am I good enough
To go knockin’ on heaven’s door?
Was my road long enough
And have you been there before?
Well, sayin’ good enough is easy man
And if that’s all I need from you
You know it’s gettin’ late and I just can’t wait
To shake the dust off of my shoes
I’ve got the Heaven’s Door Blues.

Hey good buddy how do you do?
Do you sometimes get the blues?
I’m just tryin’ to get along
Please teach me all your rules
I’m truckin’ down this old highway
Trying hard to stay between the lines
And the signs they keep on changing
I’m sick and tired and I can’t tell time
I’ve got the Heaven’s Door Blues.

All these songs and people talking
About a place called Heaven’s Door
And every time I turn around
It’s been done and done before
I’m chillin’ for Dylan, clappin’ for Clapton
Because Rock ‘n Roll understands
You’ve got to ride the Highway to Hell
To get to the Promised Land.

I’ve got the Heaven’s Door Blues.
- Freedome

It seems appropriate to be reflecting on this topic during Advent. For many years past, I have come into this season with warm, fuzzy feelings. Visions of wise men, angels, shepherds, and stars floated through the nativity scene in my head, not to mention all the glitz of garlands and ornaments and trees. But I’m coming to realize that the whole idea of Christmas isn’t glamorous—it’s unthinkable.

In coming to earth, Christ, God With Us, declared quite remarkably that humanity is not something to shrink from, but something to be embraced. God came to earth in the form of a baby. He was born not into nobility, but to a young unwed mother who became a social outcast. He was the target and the cause of a massive genocide at the hand of an evil ruler, and this forced his family to become refugees in Africa. Jesus found it good during his birth, his life, and his death to become an outcast, to become poor, to come in the midst of controversy. He came fully into this mess that we call humanity.

And at times, it is a mess. Too often, when I walk around the downtown eastside, my eyes never leave the ground. It’s easier that way. When I look down, I see trash and needles and shuffling feet pushing carts down the sidewalk. I see the wreckage of a broken humanity, but I don’t see the faces of it. Too often I avoid those faces because I am afraid that I will see my own brokenness reflected in their eyes.

I have been taught for years upon years that humanity was a trap I could only escape upon entering eternity. I was taught that to be human was to carry weakness and therefore shame. Because of this, it is my tendency to try to be superhuman, or at least to appear so. But I am now coming to see that God’s desire for us is wholeness, not escape. In his coming, Christ invites us to dive into a life that is messy with humanity—a life full of growth, pain, laughter, loneliness, and love. And this invitation to a full life is extended to all. No one is beyond it: not our friends in this broken neighborhood, and not me. This is the Kingdom of God.

So this Christmas, let us bake, draw, drum, laugh, cry, sing, and eat to the glory of God. Let us embrace the fullness our wonderfully messy humanity. Let us contemplate what it means that Christ became one of us. And let us celebrate that we are being made whole by God Among Us.

After a bit of hard work…
Carrie & Tim

Deric

Ryan and Luke

Kat & Carrie

Amy H, Ute, Tim, Ryan, Amy W-R

And a bit of fun…

And getting to know our neighbors…

Look at the layout now!

We outlined the planting beds using everything from rocks, to bricks, to
wooden beams thrown out from the remodeled playground down the street.

The sunflower, tomato, lemon cucumber, onion, chard, and marigold seedlings
began sprouting in June...

Our italian friend next door would give us tips on growing the tastiest tomatoes.
Getting bigger…

And bigger…

And huge! Look at Amy and Carrie harvest those tomatoes

It looks like fried green tomotoes are in order for Canadian
Thanksgiving on Monday!

Here you can see several heads of cauliflower missing because we
were able to give them to “Out of the Cold” - a local community meal
that welcomes marginalized people on Thursday nights.

That’s our garden so far. We’ll see what’s in store as rainy season begins
here in Vancouver!!!