Strangers in the land
“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me. Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”
–Matthew 25:35-36, 40
While serving a meal at the shelter last week, a woman came through the line and broke down in tears. A church member spoke to her for several minutes there at the counter, and then also went and sat down with her at a table for a little while. The woman said she was not from this area, but she did not have the means to get back home. What a horrible situation to be in, it is hard for me to fathom what that would feel like. I have been very far from home before and I have certainly been homesick, but to feel trapped in a situation where I could not make my way back to my safe place and the people I care about is unfathomable.
In my blessing for the meal, I gave thanks to God for the mission—that it provides a place of shelter and warm meals for folks who need such care. It was said on behalf of those present, but I must recognize that my uttering thanks for the mission is very different considering I drive there once a year in my SUV, carry in some hot food, maybe pour some drinks, say a prayer, and a few hours later return to my own home where my family is warm, fed, and safe.
We are always thanked profusely for our serving of food at the mission. We pile plates with smiles and quickly welcome folks back for seconds. Someone mentioned that while they are always grateful for all the meals provided, ours tasted particularly delicious. That our food would be tasty is no surprise, but the fact the person indicated some meals are bland or without much effort given to preparation is sad to me. It is important to remember one another’s humanity—to know that every individual present has a story and a hardship which we can never fully understand. Our care to make a hearty meal that people want to eat, not just need to eat is important. The way we engage is important. The shelter will never be home—but we can make it as hospitable as possible. If we could set every table with linen napkins and flower vases, wouldn’t that be lovely? If we could fold fresh towels and crisp sheets for beds, wouldn’t that be lovely? We’d do it for our house guests… could we do so elsewhere?
Having shelter and having a home are two very different things and the woman who was in tears punctuated that point. Surely, what a blessing to have a place where she could go-- but like the words of the Old Testament, she is an alien living in a strange land, this is not her home. I will pray for her to find her way back and I hope you will too.
The truth is, maybe we are all a little bit far from home. If an eternal close relationship with God is our ultimate goal, we’ve all headed towards home, but we certainly are not there yet. In fact, I’d say many, many Christians are adrift. We’re all aliens in the “land of Egypt” if we think of the ways we are enslaved to a multitude of sins. But just as the Lord brought the Israelites out of the land of Egypt, God has a plan for our salvation too. We would do well to keep our eye on the prize, and as Paul says in Philippians 3:14, “press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Jesus Christ.”