Brianna’s Story

“I started out a little timid, but moved with a heart of compassion. Then I became completely frustrated at feeling like we were enabling these people to stay in their mess. In the midst of my struggle of feeling cynical, I’ve learned that a person who loves well listens well.”

My friend, Ryan, called me suggesting that we get some meals together for the homeless.  “Nothing crazy, just once in a while,” he said. “I don’t even know what this will look like, but do you want to do it?”  I had no connection with anyone who was homeless.  I’d done outreach in other countries, and was aware of poverty, but hadn’t built relationships.  That was different and novel.  My sister and I decided to join him.  

It was awkward at first; the people we approached were mistrusting and suspicious, having been burned by well-meaning-christian-types.  The second or third week I met a man who carried guilt of his sister’s death, believing it was his fault.  It was amazing to know someone’s heart, what motivates them. Though I was still unsure of myself and my capacity to love these people well, I found myself growing in awareness.

I love that my process has not been sweet and cookie cutter.  I started out a little timid, but moved with a heart of compassion. Then I became completely frustrated at feeling like we were enabling these people to stay in their mess.

In the midst of my struggle of feeling cynical, I’ve learned that a person who loves well listens well.  I began listening with “different ears” to my homeless friends, not just hearing words, but translating to hear the heartbreak/loneliness/fear/abandonment hiding underneath.  My key to battling cynicism: while I could find a million ways they did not deserve a meal Monday night, I could also find a million reasons I don’t deserve the grace of the Lord.  My job is to obey, not judge.

It is difficult to do anything with pure motives: mixed in with the desire to love well and serve and give dignity, there is part of me that battles self-glorification.  It’s so easy to give myself a pat on the back for helping someone “less deserving”.  Yuck.  It’s a constant battle to deny the glory, and throw it back where it’s deserved. When I serve, am I saying in my heart, ”Good job, me” or, “I love you”?  These hard realizations are good, and hopefully, seeing a side of yourself you don’t like leads to repentance and change. I’ve learned so much from the homeless. I’d love to see what they have learned from seeing us every week.