Where Have Your Feet Been?

Today was a pretty windy and blustery November day in downtown Omaha. Actually, real windy. But what a blessing to be there. With a trailer absolutely jammed and crammed with clothing, coats, winter gear and anything else I could get in the thing. We had so much to take this time I had to take all the seats out of the van and use that space also. Amazing. And it was well received. I mostly take for granted the simple fact that God allows us to go. That he lets us do this thing. And then someone who’s never been to help comes up to me and says what a blessing it is. And there’s just something different about it. Different to me at least, in the sense that all are welcome. We have no walls. No doors. No barriers of any type. If a person can walk, crawl, roll or whatever, they can come and partake. I don’t think we’ve ever had to tell someone to leave. Or that they weren’t welcome in the first place. That corner just takes on a different life for about 2 or 3 hours each time God blesses us with His presence there. It’s almost like He prepares the way. :) Funny that. Kind of like His feet go before us?

For the past couple of days, I was able to spend a lot of time in the garage sorting, packing and cleaning. Sorting all the very generous donations we’ve been blessed with over the past few weeks. Packing all the summer clothing away in the shed. Cleaning up after the fact. It was a lot of work, but it was good work. We delivered several dorm type refrigerators that were donated. We had bags of stuff that had accumulated over the past few weeks. There was so much stuff, we couldn’t get our cars in the garage. Well, truth be told, one of the cars fit. Sort of. But there was a lot of stuff. So my mission over the Thanksgiving holidays was to get that stuff organized. And it was so amazing to see all the provisions for our friends. Coats. Hats. Gloves. Winter clothing. Socks. The list goes on. Also, there were boots. Lots of military boots. We have a friend who is a doctor at Offutt Air Force Base in Bellevue. A few miles down the road from our house. She collected lots of boots last year for us. Today I was finally able to share some of those boots with our friends. We’ve helped guys get boots in the past. To the point of over spending and getting into trouble. And they weren’t even the best boots we could purchase. But they were the best we could do at the time. The boots we were able to distribute today were of great quality. Military style. And boots that will hopefully get these guys through the winter. It seems like such a simple thing, but for a guy who is on his feet for the better part of a day, a good pair of boots in the winter, especially a Nebraska winter, is a good thing. If some of our troops who’ve donated only knew the good they’d done by simply donating a pair of used boots…well, I’m pretty sure they’d approve. Makes me wonder where those boots have been and where they’re going.

One of the things I always pray before we head down is that God will allow us to somehow be His hands and feet. That He would indeed go before us and prepare the way so that we, with all of our warts, scars, busted emotions and all the other baggage we own, can indeed somehow be the hands and feet of the One Who sends us. I know that sounds so churchy, but it’s what it is for me. I really want to be used in such a way as to be so obvious that every single thing we do is to honor the God who sends us. That our feet will take us to places that please Him. That our hands will do things in those places that also please Him. And that our words in those places will simply be Him speaking through us. It gets so busy at times that it’s hard to imagine how He could possibly use us in any constructive way. But I’m convinced He does. All it takes for me is for one person to get it and I know He’s done it. One person. A simple comment by someone that lets me know they get why we’re there. And there are tons of those comments.

I’ve wondered lately what this looks like years from now. Are we making any kind of difference for His purpose? Do all the meals and clothing and stuff mask what we are really doing? Are we helping of hurting? Someone recently suggested we read a book entitled “When Helping Hurts: Alleviating Poverty Without Hurting the Poor. . .and Yourself”. I’m strongly considering this book. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ll pick it up. One of the things that struck me in the book review was the following statement - Helping the needy will never become neat, clean and orderly. Look, I get that. Again, I’m such a novice when it comes to this stuff. I’ve gotten myself into so much trouble over the years trying to figure this out. Stupid financial decisions. Screwed up relationships. Just too many mistakes to mention. And not just little mistakes. They seem to follow me around just waiting to pounce. And the idea of helping so much it hurts the very people we are trying to help? Well, that definitely has me thinking. But keeping a guy warm in a Nebraska winter? Getting a guy a hot meal on a cold winter day? Those are just things we should be doing. The very Guy we follow said it Himself – There will always be poor people in the land. Therefore I command you to be openhanded toward your fellow Israelites who are poor and needy in your land. ~ Deuteronomy 15:11

So where have our feet been lately? Probably not nearly in as many of the places that they need to be or should have been. How to balance it all? No idea. I know we’ve been involved in some pretty crazy God stuff lately. Raising money to help build wells in Africa. Adopting families for Christmas. Hanging out with our friends on Monday nights and some Sundays. Great life group gatherings. All things I’m so grateful for and so thankful for. As I reflect back on what this “holiday” weekend is supposed to be all about, I’m indeed thankful for all the things God has placed in front of me. And nervous at times about the things I’m hearing. Wondering where our feet will lead us. But as my buddy Chris Tomlin says –

Where you go, I'll go Where you stay, I'll stay When you move, I'll move I will follow you

Who you love, I'll love How you serve I'll serve If this life I lose, I will follow you I will follow you

Yeah, I’ll follow. Most definitely. With these feet that you’ve blessed me with.

One last thing that’s been on my mind lately. A friend was killed recently. The details are pretty vivid. He was an older fellow we knew from our times in the park and from our Monday meals. He was an eccentric fellow who seemed to have a bit of an obsessive compulsive thing going on. But he was a good guy. You didn’t have to look too deep to see the good in Robert. Always with a quick “you’re alright Dave”. Always repetitive in his mannerisms. Very quick to think someone was “messing with him”. But just under the surface was a fellow who I believe simply wanted to be loved. And he was killed for reasons I’ll never understand. I really felt that after weeks or even months of trying to figure each other out, Robert and I were making headway. I saw him on a Monday night a couple weeks ago. He rarely ever missed our Monday gatherings. We made arrangements for me to come to his place the following Wednesday to hook up a stereo. I’m pretty sure he could have done it himself. But we made arrangements. He must have asked me 20 times that night if I knew “how to hook the little red wire up to the red hole and the little black wire up to the black hole”. I assured him we could figure it out. Turns out we’d never get the chance. We received a phone call on Tuesday night that someone had been killed in Robert’s building that afternoon and there was a good chance that it was him. It was. I was shocked. Not only because of the violent nature with which he was killed, but that he was gone. Just like that. Gone. And Robert and I had talked about his heart many times. About his relationship with God. But I cannot say that I knew for sure where he was in that regard. I pray that he was square. Because it can happen just like that. I only wish that my feet had made it to his apartment on that Wednesday. That I’d been able to step in and talk to him once more about his eternal choices. Instead of meeting to hook up his stereo on that Wednesday, I attended a vigil behind the building. Only feet away from the very steps in which he died. In fact the steps were still stained. I’ve let myself go to that place a few times since it happened. The last few moments. It absolutely must have been terrifying for him. And every time I start to ask why? I’m reminded of the broken world we live in. Where something like this can happen. Man…

Sorry for rambling here. It’s been a couple months since I last sat down and compiled my thoughts. I just pray that my feet take me to places that Jesus himself would venture into. That’s where I want to go and I pray that I have a brave enough heart to do it. And I simply pray that no matter what stupid decisions I make, that I’m allowed to continue to serve a merciful and loving God. A God that is so full of Grace that it’s beyond my comprehension. I cannot imagine. I pray that he leads me to places that continue to rock my world and I never take for granted the amazing things He’ll show me if I’m simply willing to go.

Make a difference…it matters.