On a warm, late spring day strolling down Nicollet Avenue, my street team and I met a man (let’s call him John). As we chatted, I began to feel uncomfortable hearing the comments he was seemingly making toward me. It became evident that he was intoxicated. Remembering one of our most important street ministry rules—leaving an interaction once it becomes inappropriate—I politely, but quickly told him we had to be on our way.
Several months later, a teammate and I approached a man inside Target on that same street, presumably trying to stay warm from the cold. He didn’t remember me, but I immediately recognized him as John and felt anxiety as I recalled our first encounter.
This time, he was sober and courteous...but also very hopeless. “It’s just the way it is,” he murmured, referring to the violence, the addictions, the harsh realities of homelessness. We tried sharing hope—even as I was personally lacking it at the time—but did not see our efforts take root, even for a bit. After that encounter my teammate and I walked away heavy-hearted.
Charity isn’t always sunshine and blue skies. It’s often advertised with images of volunteers enjoying serving food, packing goodie bags, even playing with adorable children from third world countries. These things aren’t bad in and of themselves, but what is really behind the one hour spent at the soup kitchen, or even the week-long mission trip?
Human beings.
Some people understandably become scandalized when confronted with the serious brokenness in the people they serve. What happens when your passion for the poor doesn’t live up to your expectations? When they turn you away with ingratitude? Judge you as “one of those Christians”? Or when you leave an interaction feeling more downcast than uplifted, wondering how you could ever bring them out of the depths of suffering?
We must remember that we are dealing with human beings, complex and unique. The free will that we have, we know all too well, is easily abused, and leads to darkness we struggle to comprehend.
...but the road to the Resurrection has never been an easy path.
This isn't to say boundaries don't matter. Of course, those receiving charity must learn to respect the dignity of others, because relationship is a two-way street. And Jesus often knew when it was time to retreat from the crowds to be alone with His Father.
The truth is, He comes straight into the mess of our human lives to redeem it. He took upon Himself all the wounds of humankind, even the very wounds which scandalize us—in others and in ourselves. It certainly was not pleasant every step of the way.
Rest assured, when we are faithful to His will and His work, there will be fruit. Seeds are planted. Our "failure" to concretely leave a positive impact on the poor when we have done all we can isn't for us to worry. After all, what looked like the greatest failure--the Crucifixion--was in and of itself the greatest victory, leading to the triumph of the Resurrection. The greatest success is in fidelity to what God is asking, especially in the midst of disappointment and suffering; and it is in this faithfulness that we are refined to be the saints He calls us to be.
Hazel Jordan is an Office & Communications Assistant at Our Lady of Lourdes. She is currently pursuing a Master's in Theology at the St. Paul Seminary School of Divinity. A recent graduate of the University of St. Thomas, she continues to be active in the faith community there, leading and developing a street ministry program that forms students to encounter the homeless in the Twin Cities. Among other things, she is a self-taught artist and musician, proudly acquiring graphic design and guitar/songwriting skills!