The time we broke bread with a preacher, a prostitute, a homeless deacon, and a drug addict.

It was one of the best days of my life.  I think my son Hunter, Megan(the crow), and her husband Matt would agree it is  one of their fondest memories, too.

As last Thanksgiving(2017)  neared,  I wasn’t feeling the whole traditional “Turkey Day” thing.  Please, as you read this blog, don’t take offense to anything I share. My convictions are mine and mine alone. Yours are yours.   For my family personally, we have been blessed with a village that we had broken bread with on a constant basis(and still continue too!).  The Lord truly blessed us and we are truly thankful most every day. We didn’t feel the need to have “Thanksgiving” that one day.

As Thanksgiving neared, Megan and I expressed a mutual desire to serve others in a soup kitchen.  Hunter begged to join. There was nothing to be  found locally.   We ended up being welcomed with open arms to help serve Thanksgiving dinner  at a church ministry in a county over.

Me, Matt, Hunter, and Megan were the ONLY white faces there to serve.  Our new friends looked past our light skin and welcomed us with open arms.  We went to serve and be a blessing to others.

We were the ones blessed.  And humbled.

That building basement was filled with people that we are raised to turn a cheek away from.   If we don’t make eye contact with the woman in a mini skirt that has more track marks than we can count, she’s not real.  If we cross the room to avoid the guy in a suit 3 sizes too big wearing a toboggan, then we don’t have to believe he is homeless.

We didn’t turn the cheek.  We served them.  The prostitutes, the heroin addicts, the mentally ill, the homeless, and the simply poor. These people were of many races and from many walks of life.   They all started out just like we did, a miracle in a womb. It’s only by grace that our lives are different. They blessed us more than we could have possibly blessed them.

I’m reminded of Jesus and the Samaritan at the well.  Many people associate the word Samaritan with “good” nowadays. The Bible paints a different story.  The Samaritan’s were outcasts from a place called Samaria.  Jews hated them and viewed them very low on human totem pole.  The Samaritan woman at the well was viewed even lower by her OWN people because she was a whore…. having lived with 5 or 6 men.  Jesus the Jew loved on this woman.

Powerful. I encourage you to pick up your Bible and read for yourself exactly how it all played out.

I’m so thankful that God allowed us to be a part of this last year.  And I’m disappointed in myself that I let life get in the way and prohibit us from serving this year.  However,  I feel like God is calling us to do something similar to this in our own community next year.

It’s time for us to stop being exclusive in thinking our churches should only fellowship among ourselves.  The church leaves the building every time we step outside of the sanctuary.  It’s up to us to go out and seek fellowship among our brothers and sisters that just may be like that woman at the well.

 

That whore, that addict, that homeless man….. that’s our people.

Mine and yours.

Quit turning the cheek.

 

Until next time,

the beancounter