This past week for Spring Break, I decided to join a group of 10 other college students and travel to Christ in the City in Denver, CO. Christ in the City is a program of missionaries who go out onto the streets of Denver and serve the poor and homeless. The week was full of crazy new experiences. I slept less than I should have, drank more coffee than water, played a plethora of Mafia games, hiked in the beautiful mountains, managed to fall off a fence, and most importantly... I learned the true meaning of loving my neighbor.
The theme at Christ in the City is “Love Until it Hurts.” This theme comes from Blessed Mother Teresa’s quote, "I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.” Over the course of the week, I encountered many people experiencing homelessness, but with twelve specific men I had extensive conversations where I learned how to love. They each had different stories; stories of abuse, drug and alcohol addictions, divorce, crimes, murders, and job loss, but the stories shared a general theme of forgetting their self-worth and denying the fact that they were worth loving. Our purpose was not only to pass out food and necessities, but more importantly to remind the individuals of their dignity.
“Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat.” -Mother Teresa
On Wednesdays each week, Christ in the City provides a hot lunch in the park and serves hundreds of those experiencing homelessness. We were given the chance to sit, chat, and mostly listen to the people experiencing homelessness in Denver while they ate. On this particular afternoon, I met a man named Herb. Herb is an Indian man who was placed in an orphanage at a young age, maltreated, and eventually hitched-hiked to Denver. He told me about his travels, the time he was kidnapped, an experience of getting placed in a cult, his troubles finding work, his conversion to Christianity, and the methods he used to survive the streets and the cold. His stories were radical and amazing; this man had gone through so much in his lifetime and his stories deserved to be published in a book. It was through listening to his stories that I was able to understand his trials and also try to convey that he was still loved.
Because Herb left his Indian reservation so suddenly years ago, he was disowned by his people. Therefore, he didn’t have a connection with either the white population or the Indian population. He told me that I was the first person whom he had talked to in weeks. During our extensive conversation, he told me something that I will never forget. Herb looked me straight in the eyes with the most sincere look and said, “Do you know where I might be able to adopt dog? I really would love to have someone who listens to me every day without judging me on the street corners.” It was in that moment that I realized how I was loving Herb; I was loving him by being available for him. I probably said an average of three or four sentence in the first hour of our conversation. I was an ear to hear his problems; I was someone who had given him time and respect.
Because Herb left his Indian reservation so suddenly years ago, he was disowned by his people. Therefore, he didn’t have a connection with either the white population or the Indian population. He told me that I was the first person whom he had talked to in weeks. During our extensive conversation, he told me something that I will never forget. Herb looked me straight in the eyes with the most sincere look and said, “Do you know where I might be able to adopt dog? I really would love to have someone who listens to me every day without judging me on the street corners.” It was in that moment that I realized how I was loving Herb; I was loving him by being available for him. I probably said an average of three or four sentence in the first hour of our conversation. I was an ear to hear his problems; I was someone who had given him time and respect.
"Listening is an openness of heart which makes possible that closeness without which genuine spiritual encounter cannot occur.” -Pope Francis
Herb was broken. He was hungry, he was cold, and he was homeless, but most of all, he was isolated. He called himself a “loner,” and he had forgotten how to connect in a friendship. When I first sat down with this man, he had headphones in, two hoods up, and sunglasses on. As the discussion continued and our conversation grew deeper, we broke down barriers… both physically and emotionally. First the headphones came off, then the hoods came down one by one, and finally the sunglasses were nervously removed. Near the end of our conversation, Herb was looking me in the eyes and telling me about his fears. Like peeling away the layers of an onion, I had gained the trust of this gentleman.
The trust that my new friends on the street placed in me was the most shocking revelation of the entire trip. I struggle completely opening up to strangers, let alone my friends, but the individuals I met showed me the meaning of trust. It takes a certain vulnerability to learn to depend upon others. We are all human and sometimes we simply can’t do it all. It’s necessary to accept help. It can be humbling, embarrassing, and pushes you out of your comfort zone, but it allows both sides of the relationship to grow.
As the week came to a close, I realized how similar these friends experiencing homelessness were to the people I interact with every day. We are all broken and searching for love. We are all searching to trust. I came into this trip thinking I would be handing out food and telling people about Christ with words, yet I learned to evangelize Christ in my actions. People don’t always need to be preached at; people need to know they are loved and that they are worth loving. I can’t solve their problems, but I could remind them of their dignity.
I left this mission trip and I didn’t see any physical difference in Denver. There weren’t any new homes that were built, I didn’t pass out medicine or vitamins, and there weren’t any less homeless people on the streets. That was hard to comprehend at first, as I wanted to see material results of my efforts. We will never completely understand the difference we made in one week. I will never know the importance that my conversations and complete availability meant to these people. I pray that the way that we interacted with them changed their outlook on life, because they definitely changed mine.
As the week came to a close, I realized how similar these friends experiencing homelessness were to the people I interact with every day. We are all broken and searching for love. We are all searching to trust. I came into this trip thinking I would be handing out food and telling people about Christ with words, yet I learned to evangelize Christ in my actions. People don’t always need to be preached at; people need to know they are loved and that they are worth loving. I can’t solve their problems, but I could remind them of their dignity.
I left this mission trip and I didn’t see any physical difference in Denver. There weren’t any new homes that were built, I didn’t pass out medicine or vitamins, and there weren’t any less homeless people on the streets. That was hard to comprehend at first, as I wanted to see material results of my efforts. We will never completely understand the difference we made in one week. I will never know the importance that my conversations and complete availability meant to these people. I pray that the way that we interacted with them changed their outlook on life, because they definitely changed mine.