"Under the Overpass"

Okay, I can't stay quiet about it anymore! I was going to wait til I'd read the whole book, but I'm not going to. (I must be tired or frazzled; I just had to go back and correct two grammar errors in one sentence!)

I've been reading this really good book called Under the Overpass, a journey of faith on America's streets. It's by Mike Yankoski. He undertook a strange mission when he was a sophomore in college. After hearing a sermon about being a real Christian, he felt led to become homeless for a time. He found a companion, Sam, to go with him, and a board of advisers to keep him in touch with reality and set out with 3 objectives:
1) To better understand the life of the homeless in America and to see firsthand how the church is responding to their needs.
2) To encourage others to "live out loud" for Christ in whatever ways God is asking them to.
3) To learn personally what it means to depend on Christ for daily physical needs and to experience contentment and confidence in Him. (page 19)

It's an easy-to-read narrative of his thoughts and experiences on this six-month journey. I have been impressed. It's made me think of things I never had, taught me new things about life, and about God, and it's challenged me.
I love reading and over the years I've read a lot of nonfiction, because I like it a lot. This may be my new favorite (aside from a handful of Lewis' books, which are in their own category). Buy it. I'll buy it for you if you ask me to. I've learned so many things. Tonight's reading has been the best yet, because they've been talking about their experience with churches. I can't explain what I'd like to, so I'm just going to put in an excerpt from the book which you can read if you'd like. I hope I'm not infringing on anyone's copyrights.
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After addressing a broken flip-flop and semi-serious injury to his foot, Mike talks about his visit to a church (p 147):
Conversations at the front door stopped as we walked up. I had to ask for a church bulletin from the girl who was handing them out. She looked at us as if we had just escaped from a wildlife preserve. but we headed inside for the service anyway and found an empty pew three feet from the front. Thewhole room couldn't hold more than a hundred, so our chances of going unnoticed were not good.
WE still had a few minutes before the service began, and Sam had an idea. "I'm going to ask the pastor if he can help us out with some food. My stomach is growling." he got up and walked away, but was back shortly, looking disgusted.
"You won't believe what just happened," he said. "So I went and asked for the pastor. He was standing in the back, getting some coffee. I asked him if he could help us out, if he could hook us up with someone who could feed us. I told him we didn't have any money, that the panhandling here was bad."
Same paused and shook his head. "You know what he said? He said, 'That's not what we do here. We're here to worship. We can't confuse our purpose.'"
"Wow...," I said, slowly.
... [after the service] While people filed out, Sam and I kept our seats, journaling and trying to capture the moment and our frustrations.
After a few minutes, three guys came through the pews to talk. "Hey guys, I'm Drew," one guy said, extending his hand. We introduced ourselves and told them we were living on the streets. after that, the talk rambled around general topics. When I could see the conversation was going nowhere, I decided to try an experiment. (I'll admit my reaction was a little harsh, and done out of frustration, but still...)
I set my backpack on the pew between us. Then I reached down and grabbed my broke flip-flop and set it atop the pack. some of the blood was still wet, but most of it had dried, caking the sandal in a dull brown.
"Man, look at all that blood," I said, looking to Sam and pointing to my sandal.
"Bro, does that hurt?" Sam asked, catching onto my experiment.
"A little," I said, reaching for my bag. "It's because my flip-flop is broken. You see?" I said, looking up at the guys and pulling on the broken tongue of the flip flop.
They nodded by said nothing. I pulled out the dwindling roll of duct tape and ripped off a long piece--a really long piece, stretching it loudly across in front of me the full length of my arms.
... When I finished [the long process of fixing my flip flop], I dropped the sandal and slipped my foot into it. "Well done!" Sam said.
Drew agreed. "Quite a process!" he said.
"Yep," I agreed and waited.
"Well," Drew said, looking around, "we've got to take off, but it was a pleasure talking with you." He squeezed my shoulder as he left. "I'm praying for you," he said. "You too," he said to Sam. And the three walked away.
Shocked, Sam and I carried our packs and guitars out into the bright, sunny Berkely day. As we walked toward People's Park, I broke our silence with a question.
"Why do we so often overlook obvious ways to show the love of God we so loudly proclaim?" Without waiting for an answer, I charged on. "If someone's thirsty, give them a drink! If someone's hungry, feed them! I mean, this is not complicated stuff."
Sam agreed. "Who is to show the world Christ's love if not the church?"
"No one," I said definitively. Then I stopped and looked directly at Sam, who had also stopped. "Do you feel loved?"
"Nope."
"Do you feel fed?"
"Nope. I'm starving. What about you?'
"I'm starving and my feet hurt, and that guy back there knows it. but hey, he's praying for us."

Taken from "Under the Overpass" copyright 2005 Mike Yankoski III Multnomah Books
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The rest of the chapter has an incredible story about some other people they met, but you'll just have to read it to get the good news part. the story convicted me, because I bet those guys who stopped and talked to them thought they were doing a good thing. I guess they were, but, at the same time, there was more that they could do. I don't want to be a person who says "I'll pray for you" when there are obvious needs that I could meet. I want to be generous and loving and genuinely care. That chapter, by the way, begins with a quote from A.W. Tozer in Of God and Men: "It is much easier to pray that a poor friend's needs may be supplied than to supply them."