Eric and Joe launch their kayaks from Kaw Point at 7:30 a.m. May 17.
Kayaking on Currents of Compassion
by Eric Verbovszky on Friday, May 27, 2011 at 11:59am
The sun was nearly gone, setting behind two weary kayak paddlers only partway into their long voyage. There were clear skies all around, yet in front of us I could see the blue sky fading into the inevitable darkness that slowly crept closer to Joe and me. The moon was slow to rise tonight; I hoped we would not have to wait long for the light of the full moon to guide us down the now quiet and peaceful Missouri River. Thankfully there was no cloud cover; we still had the faint glow of the stars to provide some ambient light as we floated in the current on our way to the small town of Miami, MO.
Months ago, I brought this idea to the development team at the Kansas City Rescue Mission for a potential fundraiser. In previous years I had already completed a few journeys via kayak. Upon graduating in 2009 from my alma mater, Dickinson College, a friend and I paddled from central PA to about halfway down the Chesapeake Bay. Later that summer, I completed the Missouri River 340, a kayak race from Kansas City to St. Charles and one of National Geographic’s 50 top adventures in the United States. Earlier this year, I journeyed to Texas to race in the inaugural Texas Winter 100K, a 62 mile race starting in Austin. But with this Missouri River trip, I decided to challenge myself to reach Jefferson City, MO, a distance of 223 miles on the muddy river, within the span of 36 hours. More importantly however, I wanted to use this trip to benefit the homeless and poor that the Kansas City Rescue Mission ministers to. Currents of Compassion was born.
Finally Tuesday, May 17th arrived. In addition to the local CBS news affiliate providing live coverage of our launch, several of my friends and coworkers from the Mission were there to provide support, encouragement, and prayer as we set out. One other brave soul, Joe, would be making the trip with me in his kayak, a Huki S1-X surf ski. I was using my Wilderness Systems Tempest 165 Pro sea kayak. Mentally, it would have been a much longer trip had Joe decided not to come. With the morning sun rising above the distinctive skyline of Kansas City, Joe and I set off from Kaw Point in Kansas City, KS. The clear blue skies were truly an answer to prayer.
Years ago, Captains Meriwether Lewis and William Clark of the U.S. Army made their camp at that very point in their exploration of the American Northwest. While Joe and I were heading in the opposite direction, we too would be making our own expedition down the same river that has had such historical significance to our nation and the midwest.
….
There is something almost other-worldly about paddling on the Missouri River at night. With the golden glow of a rising moon comes the descending silence of the landscape. Occasionally we heard the rising turbulence of a boil or whirlpool as the trees cast their wide shadows over the river banks. The silhouette of a floating log or branch had the potential to play tricks on my eyes. There were a few times when I wondered if one might have been a coiled water-snake, ready to strike. While in the back of my mind I knew that scenario was not the case, I steered wide of anything that looked suspicious.
After getting about one hour of sleep, Joe and I departed from the boat ramp in Miami. The temperatures in the low 40s were unexpected; although as we continued to move I stayed just warm enough in my fleece. Occasionally the wisps of smoky vapor would rise into a column of looming fog, making it even harder to see in the darkness. Turning on my spotlight only made the river blindness worse. It was slow going in the early morning hours as Joe combated fatigue and exhaustion with caffeine while the mid-May temperatures only seemed to fall. We relied on the faint view of the banks to our left and right as we could only now listen for any impending boils or whirlpools. I continued to check my watch to see how much longer we would have to wait for the rising and warming sun.
We made it to Glasgow, MO by about 7:00 am on Wednesday, May 18th, where Brooke and Roland met us with much needed coffee and breakfast sandwiches. Joe and I had paddled our kayaks 141 miles within the first 24 hours of being on the water. While Joe caught up on some rest for the next hour, I discussed the trip with my two friends.
Later that afternoon we finally passed under the I-70 bridge in mid-Missouri. I could tell Joe was losing energy but we both made it to Cooper’s Landing where Joe decided to stop. He made the right decision; he believed it was unsafe for him to be on the river given his condition. With a river that can be tricky like the Missouri, it is much better to be safe than sorry. I’m grateful he was able to accompany me for the first 197 miles. With just 26 miles to Jefferson City, I was focused and determined more than anything to finish on time. Under an overcast sky with rain in the forecast, I forced down more energy gel and took off. Keeping an eye on my distance and speed with the GPS helped the final 3 hours go by much faster. I took a short break after 11 miles, took one more energy gel with some water, did another 11 miles, and cruised in under a steady rain for the last four miles.
I finally made it to Jefferson City! Juliann’s husband Larry pulled the boat out of the water and I stumbled out. I hadn’t used my legs in 12 hours and 82 miles. After a short interview with the local CBS news affiliate, the kayak was loaded on top of the Xterra and I was ready to get a shower, some real food, and sleep. My diet for the previous day and a half basically consisted of Advil, GU Energy Gel, Granola Bars, a few sandwiches, water, and Gatorade. My stomach yearned for a steak.
….
The man interviewing me on the boat ramp in Jefferson City asked me if I had any regrets about this trip; I did not. I would gladly do it again. Even just one week later, I have already started to forget about the sore muscles and pain in my body as a result of the journey. I had the opportunity to raise money and awareness for the Kansas City Rescue Mission and bring attention to the issue of homelessness that affects so many people not just in Kansas City, but also in our nation. While I may have suffered and tested my body’s limits for a day and half, I still had a home to return to and recover. Yet there are so many people wandering the streets searching for food, a home, and a loving family to be with. They are still walking through that cold and foggy darkness that Joe and I encountered in the early morning hours as they wait for the sun to rise in their lives. I continue to pray for God’s blessing over them.
I am thankful to God that I was able to use one of my passions to help the ministry at the Kansas City Rescue Mission. I am thankful for the two day window of perfect weather and river conditions that God provided, and I was grateful to only have to pass one barge on the river. I am extremely thankful for friends like Brooke and Roland who had their own adventures meeting Joe and me at boat ramps along the river. Finally, I am thankful for Juliann and her husband, Larry, along with the other staff in the development office: Paul, Julie, Gil, and Chris. Their coordination, support, and prayer, along with everyone else’s encouragement was invaluable. Thank you to all who made a donation to support this ministry as well!
“Strange, isn’t it? Each man’s life touches so many other lives.
When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?”
My favorite movie of all time has got to be It’s a Wonderful Life. Last Saturday evening it was showing on TV and like every year at Christmas, it was on at my house.
When I was growing up I didn’t really enjoy the old black and white version, it just seemed so old and boring. But when my college roommate dug the VHS tape out of his collection, we sat down and watched the whole thing from start to finish, and my love for the movie was born. There were times where I would watch the movie multiple times in a week, feasting on chips and salsa, mesmerized by Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed. On other occasions my roommate and I would have it playing in the background while we finished school work or folded laundry.
What was so enticing about George Bailey and Clarence his guardian angel? Why did we revere the story then and why do I still enjoy it immensely now?
I believe the message of the movie is summed up by Clarence in the quote above.
George rescues his younger brother from drowning in a pond when they’re kids. He saves his town on multiple occasions from being bought up by Mr. Potter, an ambitious entrepreneur. He unknowingly touches the lives of everyone with whom he comes in contact. George has had a bigger impact on his world than he ever dreamed and when Clarence uses his heavenly powers to remove George from the world, he finally realizes the truth. He has made a difference in the world. His life matters.
Personally, I’ve never directly saved anyone’s life (as far as I know!), but I am curious as to what kind of impact my life has had on the world around me. Positive or negative, or some of both, the people I grew up with, those I encountered in college, and now in the working world and at the Mission, what has my life meant? What difference have I made in the world?
Many of the homeless men we serve at the Kansas City Rescue Mission are transient, and we often don’t get to see how their stories end. Some of our clients find work, get into housing, and are totally transformed. Other men seem to return to the Mission every few months, back to their old habits and friends. Many disappear and are never heard from again, moving on to a new life somewhere else, for good or ill. The difference that we made and the changes that occurred are often difficult to see.
Sometimes I feel like George Bailey and wonder what the world would be like without me. Unlike George, I think most of us are just going to have to wait until we get to heaven to see just what kind of impact we made. Still, it’s so nice when a former client returns to the Mission, not for a bed or a meal, but just to say thanks or to give back.
One of our long-time clients, Art, has decided to give back. He used to be a regular at the Mission, homeless and hungry. Our case manager, Sarah, helped him find a steady source of income and housing in Kansas City, KS. That was about three years ago. Now, every Wednesday night, you can find Art down at KCRM. He’s not here to eat or sleep. He’s in the kitchen, preparing and serving the evening’s meal for our overnight guests. He’s saying thanks and giving back.
Art’s story and others like it remind me of the impact we are having on these guys lives. Change is possible and happens all the time. And I’m a part of it. You can be, too. Our volunteer coordinator, Juliann Hansen, is always looking for ways to use volunteers in meaningful, impact-ful ways. You can reach her at jhansen@kcrm.org or call (816)421-7643 and ask for Juliann. Or you can give on our website.
In big ways and small ways, KCRM is making an impact in the world. No question about it. No need to check with Clarence!
I was heart broken to hear about the homeless gentleman who succumbed to the bitter cold this past weekend in downtown Kansas City. As part of a ministry that exists to provide shelter and care to the poorest of the poor I, along with all the staff at KCRM, keenly feel the tragedy when someone dies because they did not have safe shelter.
This sad event prompts me to address some questions that may be in the minds of our friends and supporters:
Does KCRM ever turn anyone away on these very cold nights?
During cold or dangerous weather the Mission will operate in overflow status. This means we will find a way for anyone who comes to us to have a place to rest, even if it is a mat on a floor, as long as we can maintain fire safety standards. When our overflow capacity is reached, we will contact other shelter agencies to ensure that anyone turning to us will not be simply turned away into the cold.
If we are ever forced to refuse services to an individual whose presence may present a danger to staff or other guests, every provision possible is made to see that the individual finds appropriate care, if even with the authorities.
What does KCRM require for a guest to stay the night?
Typically, after a week of service at no cost a client is asked to give a dollar or do some small chore to stay the night. They are also required to take a breathalyzer test to make sure they are not under the influence of drugs or alcohol. Finally they receive a pat-down to check for weapons or drug paraphernalia.
Paying a dollar or doing a simple chore – sweeping a floor or emptying some trash – helps the chronic homeless begin to take some responsibility for their situation and helps instill a sense of responsibility and pride for their “home.” Most of our guests actually welcome, some even insist on a chance to contribute to the welfare of the Mission.
The requirement that guests pass a breathalyzer and receive a pat-down is necessary for the safety of our guests, volunteers and staff alike. It is one of the reasons that KCRM has a reputation among the homeless population for being one of the safest and most peaceful places to stay in Kansas City.
Does being in overflow status put an extra strain on the Mission?
As you would expect, yes it does. The strain of caring for a greater number of guests also increases our financial burden as well as the stress on staff and supplies.
If you would like to make a gift to help us meet the challenge of this cold weather emergency, click here to visit our online giving page
KCRM will shelter up to 140 men some night during the winter -- almost double its capacity.
and choose “Cold Weather Overflow” under the “Gift Information” section.
If you ever have a question about Kansas City Rescue Mission’s policies and care for the homeless, don’t hesitate to call me at (816) 421-7643 or email jcolaizzi@kcrm.org. Thank you for your continuing generosity and friendship!
When 27 members gathered in my kitchen last Thursday for a Thanksgiving brunch, I insisted that, for the first time, we do the BIG thing — the uncomfortable thing. After a prayer of Thanksgiving and before we dug in, we each had to say what we were thankful for in three words or less.
It turned out to be easy, because 75 percent of us were thankful for the same thing: the family that stood in the circle. Family, family, family, family … tears sprung up as we reaffirmed our love for one another again and again.
Sometime during the night, I woke up with the realization that most of the homeless guys I work with at Kansas City Rescue Mission were estranged from their families. Of course, I’ve known this for years. I’ve interviewed hundreds of homeless men and women, gathering stories for the letters, newsletters, magazine articles, etc., that go with writing for rescue missions. And, I’ve heard countless times, “I’ve burned all my bridges with my family.” Or, “Even my mom has given up on me.” Or, “My brother told me don’t call home no more.”
If so many had been loosed from ‘the ties that bind,’ what were they thankful for? And just how hard would Thanksgiving be to bear?
When I returned to work on Monday, a bunch of guys in the Mission’s Christian Community of Recovery (C-COR) were smoking in the parking lot. One homeless, these men had chosen to join the Mission’s recovery community to find “freedom from the past and hope for the future.” As I crossed the lot toward my office, several called out some version of, “Mornin’ Julie. How was your holiday?”
My first thought: The guys are always so polite. My second: Why do they care? My third: Answer them. ”I had 27 people at my house for Thanksgiving brunch … an amazing spread … and we had a blast!”
From each face, a congenial smile. They seemed sincerely happy for me. I heard: “27! Wow!” ”All your family?” ”Did you cook for all of ‘em?” ”Well, that’s just great.”
(I dearly love these guys.)
“Yes, it was!” I said. And after a long pause, I asked, “Did you all hang out here?” Of course, for most the answer was clearly YES. There was no family home to go to. Or for some, the bridges had been so effectively burned, their families might as well have been a thousand miles away.
Then to keep the conversation going, I asked, “Did you have a good Thanksgiving?”
For a moment I wished I hadn’t asked. I wondered if I’d backed them into a corner of small-talk responses designed to hide how they really felt — you know, “It was fine, just fine.”
One by one, each guy responded:
“A couple from my church came to get for dinner at their house. It was great!”
“We ate pretty good here at the Mission — the kitchen served Cornish hens.”
“I was just thankful I was here at the Mission and sober!”
“Hah, I’m glad I made it through Thanksgiving and I’m still here and sober!”
So here I am thankful again for family. The folks who extend theirs to include a man or two from KCRM. The ones that come Thanksgiving Day to fix enough Cornish hens to feed 100 hungry strangers living in a rescue mission. And the “family” created at the Mission itself, made up of a bunch of guys smoking in a circle and the staff who stop to chat with them.
This morning I got a call from Dee Dee. She has been in the hospital since Friday — the day she was hit by a car as she crossed the street.
My guess is that Dee’s eyes were down — she probably didn’t look both ways … didn’t notice the light was red … didn’t hear the car coming because she is half deaf.
The doctors kept her for several days because she suffered a head injury (the first of many in her 62-year life). They also noticed the highways of painful varicose veins that crisscross both legs. They checked her from head to toe — I know she hated that! — and gave her pills and vitamins and instructions and encouragement.
Today she will check out and go to a local shelter where she can recuperate. After that, she will return to the airless, filthy apartment she calls “the dump.”
Dee Dee and I think the few days she spent at the hospital were pretty good days all in all. Three hots and a cot, people checking up on her, smiling, plumping her pillows.
It’s sad to think the hospital was more “home” than her own home. My own hope is that KCRM’s new women’s center becomes home for the women like Dee — whose eyes are turned downward, whose thoughts are confused, who can’t always hear or see the hope ahead.
Dee stands only four feet and a few inches tall. At 62, she looks like a small, very grumpy bulldog, with a deeply lined face, military-cut hair, and eyes she tends to keep fixed on the ground. Dee nervously picks at her fingernails and face — sometimes until she draws blood. She walks for miles each day, and the veins in her legs are criss crossed and painful. She keeps her eyes to the ground when she walks, to avoid peoples’ eyes and to look for money, doodads and other cool stuff.
Dee has been diagnosed with several mental disabilities, but she is incredibly street smart. She’s had to be to survive a hundred harrowing experiences that range from having her children taken from her at birth to simply walking the wrong KC streets late at night.
Though she usually has her own apartment, she is often driven out by her own paranoia to stay in shelters or abandoned buildings. No matter where she lives, she insists someone is trying to break in, to molest her, to take her things … no place feels safe. No place feels like home.
Her response to all this is to sabotage her housing — fail to pay her rent or utilities, pick fights with other residents, get thrown out. Last year, she spent five months in local shelters, under bridges and in abandoned buildings. ”Dee, did you feel safer under a bridge than in your apartment?” I ask. ”Well, yeah,” she says. ”Better’n gettin’ broke into. Or gettin’ messed with in my sleep.”
Staying in shelters where there are children is a struggle for Dee. Her paranoia, hearing loss, abrupt and abrasive responses, and fear of being touched conspire with her sadness at the loss of her own children, making her seem freakish and dangerous. (She is neither.)
Dee has been my good friend for 28 years. We’ve had a rollicking strange relationship; sometimes we come out swinging, but we own too much of each others’ hearts to let go for long.
I believe that KCRM’s women’s center will be a place of refuge for Dee and for women like her. Women who’ve suffered unimaginably; who don’t look like “us” or behave very well at times. Women who just, for whatever reason, can’t make life work.
In the coming months, as Kansas City Rescue Mission pulls together the resources to open our new women’s center, I want to call on “WOMEN WHO CAN” to be there for “WOMEN WHO CAN’T.” To be there financially, with volunteer time, with hours of prayer, with hands that cook, decorate, sooth, clean, love and encourage!
If you can love the Dee’s of this world, you are a WOMAN WHO CAN. And KCRM needs you as never before.
From 6 p.m. on Friday October 29 to 6 p.m. Saturday October 30, 2010, “Barefoot Rick” Roeber will be running barefoot for the Kansas City Rescue Mission to benefit the homeless. The location for the event is Lee’s Summit North High School, 901 NE Douglas Street in Lee’s Summit, Missouri.
When asked why he would put his body through such torment, Rick responded with the following.
“Our Pastor shared one of my favorite stories yesterday. About the first Moravian missionaries that left Hamburg Germany in 1732. These two young men had sold themselves to a wealthy plantation owner in the Caribbean. This landowner swore that no missionary would ever come to his island. Well, these young men sold themselves into slavery so they could minister to those 3,000 souls on that plantation. When they were asked “why” would they do this, one shouted from the deck of the departing ship ‘May the Lamb that was slain receive the reward of His suffering.’
You may have heard that story, but I believe that the men at the mission are SO valuable. They have been dragged down by hell itself because the devil saw something in them of such intense value that he felt like he must throw all hell against them to keep them down. Jesus is worthy of these lives. We must reach them.”
It’s a mind-boggling perspective. What if the homeless we serve at KCRM and those we see on the streets of Kansas City are so cherished by God that the devil has decided to throw everything he has at them? What if these are the ones who the devil has picked out to personally destroy because of how much God loves them?
As Rick put it, “Jesus is worthy of these lives. We must reach them.”
Click the link to learn how you can support Rick and learn more information about the upcoming 24-hour run.
For Timmy*, a homeless guest at KCRM, Christmas Eve was an anniversary of suffering. It had been years since he’d had the nerve, much less the money, to call his daughter who lived several hours away. And, there was no way he was calling collect, enduring the shame of her rejecting the call or, worse, asking what he wanted from her.
On this particular Christmas Eve, Timmy sat in KCRM’s dayroom wishing the holiday season was over. That’s when two brothers from the Herring family walked in, and offered each homeless guest there a chance to call loved ones on their personal cell phones. “It’s become a Herring family tradition,” a family member says. “We do it to give back.”
Timmy decided to chance his daughter’s anger and give her a call, and it turned out to be life-changing! “I hadn’t seen her in 20 years, but there she was on the other end of the line forgiving me and telling me she loved me,” he says. Timmy learned that despite hardship, his daughter had just graduated from nursing school and was now an R.N. “She even set up a time for us to get together in the next few days!”
We’re grateful to the Herring family for establishing a Christmas tradition of caring at KCRM. A simple act of compassion — calls from a cell phone, a batch of decorated cookies, a homemade greeting card, a game of chess — means so much to the homeless men who seek shelter at KCRM. For some, the gift can be life-changing.
I see the sprawl of guys waiting on the street as I turn the corner and approach the Kansas City Rescue Mission. Forlorn looks, pleading eyes, distant gazes, challenging stares, numb faces . . . I see all of these and more as I steer my car through the gates. Some of the men are dirty and disheveled, some are surprisingly neat and trim, some sit quietly and watch the others cautiously, some march around loudly parading for others to see and fear.
I park my car and head towards the Visitors Entrance. A few men stand around outside the door smoking. At first glance they seem a bit scary, but then one grabs the door for me and gruffly welcomes me to his home. I mumble my thanks and continue inside.
The door closes behind me and I am greeted with near silence. There is a front desk with men huddled around, apparently praying for the evening. One of the men leads, asking God for safety and a smooth check-in process this evening. With the final ‘Amen,’ the man behind the desk turns to me and says, “You here for the kitchen?” I stammer affirmatively and he points around the corner. One of the men graciously offers to guide me to the kitchen and I am grateful.
As we walk, the man introduces himself to me. His name is Eric. He’s been staying at the shelter for three months on the recovery program, C-Corps he calls it. (Later I learn it is C-COR, the Christian Community of Recovery.) I ask him how he came to be here and he eagerly tells me about his past life of drugs and women, losing his job and then his apartment — losing control. Now, he says, everything has changed. He’s a different man. He’s studying the Bible, going to church, clean and sober for four months now, and looking forward to seeing his wife soon. I thank him for the escort and story as he heads back to the front desk with a wave and a smile.
The dining room looks like it will seat around 100 come meal-time. Tables and chairs fill the room, packing in as many seats as possible. I am approached by a tall, thin African-American man wearing glasses and an apron. “You my volunteer?” he asks eagerly. When I nod, he tells me where I can get my own apron and plastic gloves. He asks me my name and tells me his name is Michael; he’s the kitchen staff for the evening and, boy, is he grateful I’m here and … his enthusiasm is overwhelming and instantly contagious.
Michael puts me to work preparing salads. My job is to place a handful of salad in each bowl and spoon out a dollop of ranch dressing on each. Another couple shows up and they begin putting bread in baskets. We talk for a bit while we work and I learn they have been coming to volunteer at the Mission for just over three years. I have never held a job for more than 18 months, so their level of commitment amazes me and I wonder what keeps bringing them back. They tell me they enjoy coming down and serving these guys, many of whom they see month after month. Sometimes, they explain, they even have the opportunity to sit down and chat with a guy, see where he’s coming from, what makes him tick, and offer some encouragement and understanding. Sit down and talk with a homeless guy!? That’s not something I’ve ever done. Sure, I’ve passed out plenty of loose change and leftovers to guys on the streets, but having a legitimate conversation is definitely outside of my comfort zone.
As I begin placing the salads at each seat, the other couple finishes setting the bread out and begins to fill pitchers with water for each table. A few more volunteers show up and begin setting out silverware and napkins. Last on the to-do list is dessert. I join a woman cutting and serving pieces of cake and pastries onto dessert plates.
Soon about 30 “first-serving guys” file in and fill one side of the room. Michael explains these men are part of the C-COR program and eat early so the Mission can welcome in as many overnight guests as possible for the second serving. He asks for a volunteer to pray for the meal and one of the guys stands. Hats come off, heads bow, and we all listen to the prayer for food, shelter, and safety. ‘Amen’ is our signal to begin bringing the main courses, one in each hand, to the guys. They graciously receive the delicious meal we prepared for them. I hear many appreciative ‘thank yous’ throughout the process and in a very short time, all 30 men are digging in.
I feel a touch on my shoulder and a volunteer hands me a plate for myself. “There’s plenty,” he says,”Here, join us.” He is waving towards a half-empty table. The other half is taken by three homeless men plowing through their meals. I hesitantly sit down and begin eating my chicken, mashed potatoes and greens. Uncomfortable at first, I quickly feel at ease as our conversation hops from weather to the Chiefs’ game to the latest disgraced celebrity. One of the volunteers asks a C-COR member to share his story with me, as it’s my first time here, and he eagerly obliges.
He tells me about his life before KCRM: how he was once a successful businessman, who spent time with his kids and his wife, and lived in his own house in the countryside. Then he tells me how it all ended — how the alcohol he drank for fun became the alcohol he drank to escape and then became the undoing of his family, his house, his life. He wound up on the streets of Kansas City and soon found Kansas City Rescue Mission. It was a good place to find food and rest. After a couple months of doing the homeless thing, he decided it was time for a change, so he signed up for C-COR. Five months later, he is looking to graduate and begin searching for a job.
I thank him for his story as we clear our places and reset our silverware for the next serving. ‘My pleasure,’ he says with a grin as he heads out of the dining room.
The “second serving guys” begin filing in through the narrow dining hall walkways. After the last man takes his seat, I grab two plates and head for the first table. Many of the guys are grateful, some will not look me in the eye, but I don’t mind. One man calls for more water. I take his pitcher and head back to the kitchen for a refill. The evening is a little hectic, but not overwhelming. Everything is orderly and the guys are well mannered towards us volunteers.
I learn men staying at the shelter for the night will clean up after the meal, so once everyone has been served, my job is over. Michael guides the volunteers into an office, where we pray for the men and women served this evening, for their safety and health, and that they will come to know why it is we are serving them, because Jesus loves them and so do we.
Moments later as I pull away from the Mission I feel strangely refreshed. I came to give love, but found myself on the receiving end instead.
Tickets for this event are $100. For more information contact Julie Larocco at jlarocco@kcrm.org or (816)421-7643 or visit our website at www.kcrm.org.
Each time I read, see or hear the news story about Florida minister Terry Jones threatening to burn the Koran, I wait for the words, “He has come to his senses.” Each time, I am disappointed. It is nearly midnight, Wednesday, September 8 and I’ve turned from the 10 o’clock news astonished again that a church leader, a pastor, a minister of the Gospel, a father, an American would make such a senseless decision.
My son fought in Iraq, and my son-in-law and now my nephew serves in Afghanistan. I can’t fathom how this man arrived at the conclusion that burning a Koran to make the point that ”something is wrong” is worth the danger he’s placed our soldiers in … or his own family for that matter.
But my greater question is this: How does a leader in the church of Jesus Christ conclude he is glorifying God … reflecting Christ’s love … exhibiting righteousness, discernment, goodness, the fruit of the Spirit … by burning the Koran? As a believer, I have to believe the Holy Spirit is warring within this man day after day. Why can he not hear?
I am calling on believers in Jesus Christ to pray for Terry Jones. In Philippians 1:9-11, Paul writes:
“This is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God.” (Phil 1:9-11)
Terry Jones, your intended action will not reflect the love of Christ or the fruit of righteousness that comes through Him. Your action will not honor the God you say you serve, nor will it bring glory and praise to His Holy Name. I pray you hear His voice and obey it in the hours ahead. You CAN humble yourself. You CAN turn around. His mercies are new every morning.
My 16-year-old daughter, Hannah, and her friend stopped to talk to a woman standing on a corner holding a “Homeless, Please Help!” sign. When my daughter told me about it later, I had all those “Dad” thoughts about why that was a bad idea…you know, the whole don’t talk to strangers thing. But I have come to realize that she will most likely talk to strangers her whole life. I can give her advice and ask God to watch over her but she is going to talk to people. It’s who she is.
Hannah is a pray-er. Bad hair day? Pray. Too many cars in her merge lane? Pray. Someone looks like they’re having a rough day? “Hi, I’m Hannah, may I pray for you?”
She also has what I would call a gift of mercy. If you want to touch her heart, tell Hannah about someone who is hurting. So when they encountered that woman on the corner there was no chance they would just pass on by.
Hannah and her friend pulled over, approached the woman and asked if they could pray for her. Her response was enthusiastic. Yes! They prayed an equally enthusiastic prayer for her, handed her $5 and watched her walk away yelling “Hallelujah!” and waving her hands.
Hannah was sure the hallelujah was because of the prayer. I was silently convinced it was because of the $5.
We are often asked at the Kansas City Rescue Mission about those people on the corners with the signs. And our response is almost always the same: Don’t give them money!
You see, we know the statistics that the vast majority of those hapless faces peering at you at intersections aren’t quite as desperate as they’d have you believe. Some make a pretty good living at those corners…one study found Kansas City panhandlers can make as much as $300 each day…and they even compete for the best intersections.
The reality is there is no reason for anyone to go hungry in our city. No one HAS to stand on a corner begging for money to eat because there are many resources for free meals and even free groceries throughout the city. Often the man or woman you pass at the side of the road is standing only a few steps away from a free meal.
KCRM’s strategy for responding to the panhandler you meet on the street or outside your car window can be found here: http://www.kcrm.org/newkcrm/Help. You can download a Free Shelter Ticket that you can give in lieu of money to someone who approaches you.
So, yes, that would be my advice. Don’t give money to a person on the street claiming to be homeless. Don’t put yourself at risk. Support ministries like KCRM that are equipped to help the homeless person’s needs, both critical and ongoing.
But, that being said, I don’t want to douse Hannah’s flame, either. I love the courage she has to pray for anyone at any time. I’m proud of her! And I have to trust that God has some heavenly bubble wrap around my baby to keep her protected out there in a dangerous world.
So to all the Hannahs out there, let me say this: Be careful! But if God says pray for someone, give to someone, reach out to someone…then by all means, do it!
Edward Everett Hale was a kind of scary looking guy who did and said a lot of good things … even though he was a pastor in the Unitarian Church. He was a friend of presidents and an activist in the anti-slavery movement, and he’s probably best known for one of the most misquoted quotes ever written. After doing lots of tracking and comparing, I’d say this is the most accurate of the versions: ”I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something that I can do.”
Okay, okay, there’s another, less convoluted version that says,”I am only one, but I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. What I can do, I should do and, with the help of God, I will do.”
Take your pick.
The point is — and this really hits home when you work at Kansas City Rescue Mission — one person can do one thing and make a real difference in another person’s life.
One person donates a four-pack of toilet paper and (seriously) gives a little dignity to several dozen homeless guys who, let’s face it, don’t have much of that precious commodity left. A bar of hotel soap (you paid for it, so TAKE it) lathers up and cleanses the dirty, dusty body of a guy who’s spent the whole day tracking down a construction job that never materializes. As he begins to feel whole again, he thinks “Yeah, well, tomorrow is another day.”
It might seem cliche, but I’ve interviewed hundreds of guys who said a hot meal delivered by a smiling volunteer put them on the road to recovery. A bunch of kids singing Amazing Grace lustily and completely off-key brings tears to a man 20 years on the streets. A pair of new underwear and new white socks feel like cashmere.
A lot of folks call KCRM to say, “I’ve been thinking I’d like to help out somehow for a long time, but I just didn’t know what you’d need.” Our response: Get down here. Ask. Don’t wait anymore. Be Jesus with a bar of soap, a kind word, a dollar, a can of food.
Years ago, I did a Bible study called “Experiencing God.” Two things have stayed with me … have changed my life: the first, a portion of Scripture and the second a quote from the author.
1. The LORD had said to Abram, “… go to the land I will show you. … So Abram left, as the LORD had told him…” Genesis 12: 1 and 4.
2. “Watch to see where God is at work and join him there.”
Go to where God is, blindly, in faith, with a sense of adventure. Take a bar of soap, a can of vegetables, your kindest thoughts, a gift from your storehouse. Just go. It’s okay to be “only one.” Just be one who DOES.
My grandson Tyler can’t keep track of his shoes. Almost daily he tells his mom (and my daughter Laurel), “I can’t find my shoes.” And daily, her answer is the same: “Well, Tyler, where’d you put them last time you wore them?” Usually, after a minor tussle, Mom wins out and Tyler begins retracing steps he took the day before. And, because he’s 9 and can’t leave home without his mommy, and because the shoes are somewhere within the confines of the house or yard, Ty finds them, sticks them on his feet and is ready to go.
Laurel, her husband and our five grandsons are living under our roof for awhile, so we watch the “shoe incident” play out regularly. Since it’s been a few years since we’ve raised our own three children, we’ve been a bit judgmental about this daily exchange (and a few other things, too, I admit) and have offered really good, unsolicited, graciously rejected advice more than once.
So it must have been on my husband’s mind when our daughter Andrea recently dropped by in tears. In the midst of fighting a month-long battle with a staff infection after giving birth to our granddaughter in May, Andrea had learned she’d need daily IVs delivered through a port that would be installed under her skin near her heart. ”And I have to wean Ada,” she wept.
A long hug was in order. Some coffee. Sympathy from me. Empathy from my husband who’s had a lot of experience in the overcoming-physical-suffering department. ”I know the Word says God gives us only what we can endure,” Rob said. ”But I’ve told him more than once, Your confidence in me is almost breaking my back.”
“I just need to find peace,” Andrea responded. “I just wish God would give me peace about this whole thing.” Rob nodded then reminded her of John 14:27: Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.
“You know what God tells me when I pray for peace?” Rob asked, then pretended to search his pockets and look around the room. ”He says, I gave you peace … so where’d you put it after you used it last?”
Rob continued to mime a search throughout the room. ”Retrace your steps; remember His peace. He left it with you last time you needed it … He gave it to you for keeps.”
“You’ve been through so much,” Andrea said. ”Yet you seem so calm about it all.” ”That’s because I’ve seen what God can do in the middle of the mess,” Rob said.
As Andrea and Rob continued to talk, fear changed to challenge; “Why God?” became “How can I use this for Him?”
Later, Andrea and I headed for the grocery store. ”It’s amazing what a change in perspective can do,” Andrea said. ”I’m not afraid anymore. I’m kind of excited to see what God’s going to do through this whole situation.” She smiled, “I think I remember where I put my peace.”
Often those who’ve suffered most seem most at peace. ”I wouldn’t give up a moment of pain to know what I know now,” my husband has told me time and time again. He admits he still has to retrace his steps at times to find the gift of peace God gave him in the midst of almost impossible pain, but, he says, it’s always just where he left it last time.
I came across this video today in which Erica Skuta, a high school senior from Minnesota, explains why she became passionate about ending homelessness. Erica and another student, Dan Wells, have written a guide for students who want to get involved in ending homelessness but don’t know where to start. A Student’s Guide to Ending Homelessnessreflects on Erica and Dan’s personal experiences before giving helpful advice and instructions on what students can do to help end homelessness. Many of the locales and directives are specific to Minnesota’s community, but this guide could easily be applied across the country.
Thank you, Erica and Dan, for opening doors and paving the way for students across America. Thank you for reminding us that no one should be homeless.
“I have no idea how to help millions of homeless Americans.
I have no idea how to help millions of homeless.
I have no idea how to help millions.
I have no idea how to help.
I have no idea how.
I have no idea.
I have.”
I found this poem yesterday as I was roaming the internet. It was posted on Patti Dickinson’s blog. It pretty much speaks for itself. As little as we have and as helpless as we feel, shouldn’t we do something?
Gil Thibault
Julie Larocco
Chris Abke
