December 17, 2012 was the last time I was in the Pantry at 181 East 5th Ave because of the renovations.
November 18, 2013 I finally stepped back into the place. It looked incredible.
11 months.
A lot has happened in those 11 months in my life.
God has made everything beautiful for its own time.
-Ecclesiastes 3
The sun was beginning to set as I pulled into the alley. I parked around back. As I pulled into the spot I thought about the night Bea and I sat and talked in my car. The night I accidentally stepped in homeless person shit and my car reeked. I smiled as I thought about how mad and grossed out I was. It killed the evening for me. I walked along the side of the building where Bea would park on Saturday mornings. As I rounded the corner I was met with familiar faces.
I've missed this place.
I walk up to the new two sets of double glass doors. I can see Kelly setting up the sound system. John is outside with me.
"Have you lost weight?" John says as we shake hands. Reluctantly I reply
"eh maybe a little."
"Your face looks thinner." John doesn't know this but he's the third person to tell me this now. I can't look that skinny! Sure I've lost weight but I'm going through a rough season plus I had bronchitis.
Ed comes to the door and opens it for us. He's wearing his black cowboy hat with his phone to his ear he paces back and forth.
I step into the building and am completely blown away. The walls are filled with color, purple, red, orange. The ceiling is so much higher. I walk back to the kitchen and give Linda a giant hug. Sweet T is in the kitchen getting things ready. She gasps as I hug her really tight.
It's been 3 weeks since I've seen the whole team and its been 11 months since we've been in this place.
...and something is missing.
someone.
Terry walks me to the other hall way and we check out the bathrooms. He and I can't get over how beautiful this place is. It looks incredible.
So bright, so colorful, so high.
The doors open after the meeting and prayer.
I'm hugging everyone. Cindi walks in with Josh, she's fresh out of rehab. That couple I had mentioned earlier were there. This time the woman had a wedding ring on. I congratulated the man and hugged him. Mark comes limping still in a boot. Fred and Rebel. James comes in and I slap him on the back. Dave Heinmiller walks in with Martin and Jack. Evan and his men's group follow with the food. Everyone is here.
...and something is missing.
someone.
I sit with my back against the purple wall with a cup of coffee in my left hand. I yell "James I got a seat right here for you!" He comes and sits across from me. We talk until worship starts. I have the best seat in the house. I can see the whole building. Dave and the band start to worship and I lean my head against the wall and take it in.
On my left, Linda swaying in front of the coffee machine, hands together eyes closed Chloe beside her. Ed to my right by the lap top controlling the projector's song lyrics. And then I just look straight ahead.
The kingdom of God.
The homeless population of East 5th Ave Columbus Ohio.
They are beautiful.
Some of them talking, some worshiping, some eating, some sleeping, some getting comfy, some uneasy, some new, some regulars, all of them lovely, all of them beautiful.
In this moment, in this building, as I take in deep breath after deep breath I realize how much I need this pantry. How much I need this people.
I am not unemployed, I am not without a home, I am not hungry, I am not poor, I am not broke, I am not an alcoholic, I am not addicted to chemicals, and yet I need this place.
As I sit there in worship, my head back, my eyes closed, I realize I need this place more than the people I serve. This place is the best part of my week. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I feel so at peace, so welcomed, so loved.
...and something is missing.
someone.
It's funny to think about how very different I am from the homeless community and yet in so many ways how exactly the same I am.
This is a people who can survive.
This is a people who could manage without Fruit of the Vine.
This is a people who could do without a relationship with me.
But as I think about these past two weeks with the pantry shut down I think about how badly I missed this place. How badly I missed these people.
I think about the people waiting in line to eat food as the volunteers. They are the ones who give of their time and their life. They give everything. They wear it all on their sleeves. They come in drunk, They come in angry, they come in bitter, they come in depressed, they come in beaten, they come in pregnant, they come in tired, they come in scared, they come as they are. They come in real.
I think about the people scooping the food from behind the table as those being served. We are the ones who learn, we are the ones who see God in them, we are the ones who see the kingdom, we are the ones who see the beauty, we are the ones who are humbled, we are the ones who wear masks, we are the ones who pretend, we are the ones who come clean on the outside.
And here I sit, eyes closed, head back, in this moment. I am alive. I am present. We are with God and God is with us. I feel the warmth of the Styrofoam cup in my hand. I hear the worship of the meek. I sit in this beautiful new building that seems to be shouting praise to God. This building in all of it's bright lights, new colors and polished floor seems to be God's way of telling this people group, this community, I see you, you matter, you are worth this and so much more. The building speaks that it doesn't matter if you get cleaned up, it doesn't matter if you are drunk, God wants you here. Nothing you do could make God want us more or less in this place.
God is so good.
...and something is missing.
someone.
My eyes keep moving towards the brand new squeaky clean double doors. Where is she? How could she miss this? oh How I miss her. I start to imagine what it would be like if she walked in. Her smile so big and so bright that she would look as if she's about to pop. She would run around and hug the team so tight. She'd probably jump and click her heels like she does. She would spread her arms wide with that giant bible falling apart in one hand and those raggedy tattered keys in the other. She'd come over to me and ask that I put her phone and keys in my pocket. She would stare in my eyes and shout "Adam look at this place! How beautiful!" Afterwards we'd stay up in her car parked in the lot under the flickering street light. She'd open her trunk and pull out mounds of blankets and wrap herself up as we talk and talk I would make her laugh so hard her eyes would close and her head would tilt slightly up as she gasped for breath and she would say the most profoundly beautiful things about God, love, and the homeless that it would make me sign and think. I would turn to her and say "You are very wise Bea." As we continue to talk. "Can you just come here! Adam please!" she would interject periodically and I would draw closer to the pile of colorful fabrics that her face is poking out of.
"GO ED"
James bellows and I am pulled back into reality.
...reality.
The reality is that she isn't here tonight.
The reality is she isn't talking to me.
She isn't texting me.
She isn't e-mailing me.
The reality is she refuses to have any sort of relationship with me.
The reality is I miss her.
The reality is I love her.
The reality is I need this pantry and I need this people. I need this community. I need these people who know my name, who greet me with a smile, who show me an honesty I've never seen, who listen and tell it like it is.
God I love the pantry.
God I love this life. I love being at the pantry. I love Better Way on Friday nights. I miss the Wednesday night bible studies even though I have my opinions about Beth Moore. I love the team meetings where Ed speaks to harshly and Kelly controls too much. I am so blessed. And I am overwhelmed by your goodness.
Here I am. I am in your pantry and I am experiencing a worship unlike any other.
I trust you Jesus
soften her heart
heal Bea
heal me.
Bon Iver - Holocene
November 18, 2013 I finally stepped back into the place. It looked incredible.
11 months.
A lot has happened in those 11 months in my life.
God has made everything beautiful for its own time.
-Ecclesiastes 3
The sun was beginning to set as I pulled into the alley. I parked around back. As I pulled into the spot I thought about the night Bea and I sat and talked in my car. The night I accidentally stepped in homeless person shit and my car reeked. I smiled as I thought about how mad and grossed out I was. It killed the evening for me. I walked along the side of the building where Bea would park on Saturday mornings. As I rounded the corner I was met with familiar faces.
I've missed this place.
I walk up to the new two sets of double glass doors. I can see Kelly setting up the sound system. John is outside with me.
"Have you lost weight?" John says as we shake hands. Reluctantly I reply
"eh maybe a little."
"Your face looks thinner." John doesn't know this but he's the third person to tell me this now. I can't look that skinny! Sure I've lost weight but I'm going through a rough season plus I had bronchitis.
Ed comes to the door and opens it for us. He's wearing his black cowboy hat with his phone to his ear he paces back and forth.
I step into the building and am completely blown away. The walls are filled with color, purple, red, orange. The ceiling is so much higher. I walk back to the kitchen and give Linda a giant hug. Sweet T is in the kitchen getting things ready. She gasps as I hug her really tight.
It's been 3 weeks since I've seen the whole team and its been 11 months since we've been in this place.
...and something is missing.
someone.
Terry walks me to the other hall way and we check out the bathrooms. He and I can't get over how beautiful this place is. It looks incredible.
So bright, so colorful, so high.
The doors open after the meeting and prayer.
I'm hugging everyone. Cindi walks in with Josh, she's fresh out of rehab. That couple I had mentioned earlier were there. This time the woman had a wedding ring on. I congratulated the man and hugged him. Mark comes limping still in a boot. Fred and Rebel. James comes in and I slap him on the back. Dave Heinmiller walks in with Martin and Jack. Evan and his men's group follow with the food. Everyone is here.
...and something is missing.
someone.
I sit with my back against the purple wall with a cup of coffee in my left hand. I yell "James I got a seat right here for you!" He comes and sits across from me. We talk until worship starts. I have the best seat in the house. I can see the whole building. Dave and the band start to worship and I lean my head against the wall and take it in.
On my left, Linda swaying in front of the coffee machine, hands together eyes closed Chloe beside her. Ed to my right by the lap top controlling the projector's song lyrics. And then I just look straight ahead.
The kingdom of God.
The homeless population of East 5th Ave Columbus Ohio.
They are beautiful.
Some of them talking, some worshiping, some eating, some sleeping, some getting comfy, some uneasy, some new, some regulars, all of them lovely, all of them beautiful.
In this moment, in this building, as I take in deep breath after deep breath I realize how much I need this pantry. How much I need this people.
I am not unemployed, I am not without a home, I am not hungry, I am not poor, I am not broke, I am not an alcoholic, I am not addicted to chemicals, and yet I need this place.
As I sit there in worship, my head back, my eyes closed, I realize I need this place more than the people I serve. This place is the best part of my week. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I feel so at peace, so welcomed, so loved.
...and something is missing.
someone.
It's funny to think about how very different I am from the homeless community and yet in so many ways how exactly the same I am.
This is a people who can survive.
This is a people who could manage without Fruit of the Vine.
This is a people who could do without a relationship with me.
But as I think about these past two weeks with the pantry shut down I think about how badly I missed this place. How badly I missed these people.
I think about the people waiting in line to eat food as the volunteers. They are the ones who give of their time and their life. They give everything. They wear it all on their sleeves. They come in drunk, They come in angry, they come in bitter, they come in depressed, they come in beaten, they come in pregnant, they come in tired, they come in scared, they come as they are. They come in real.
I think about the people scooping the food from behind the table as those being served. We are the ones who learn, we are the ones who see God in them, we are the ones who see the kingdom, we are the ones who see the beauty, we are the ones who are humbled, we are the ones who wear masks, we are the ones who pretend, we are the ones who come clean on the outside.
And here I sit, eyes closed, head back, in this moment. I am alive. I am present. We are with God and God is with us. I feel the warmth of the Styrofoam cup in my hand. I hear the worship of the meek. I sit in this beautiful new building that seems to be shouting praise to God. This building in all of it's bright lights, new colors and polished floor seems to be God's way of telling this people group, this community, I see you, you matter, you are worth this and so much more. The building speaks that it doesn't matter if you get cleaned up, it doesn't matter if you are drunk, God wants you here. Nothing you do could make God want us more or less in this place.
God is so good.
...and something is missing.
someone.
My eyes keep moving towards the brand new squeaky clean double doors. Where is she? How could she miss this? oh How I miss her. I start to imagine what it would be like if she walked in. Her smile so big and so bright that she would look as if she's about to pop. She would run around and hug the team so tight. She'd probably jump and click her heels like she does. She would spread her arms wide with that giant bible falling apart in one hand and those raggedy tattered keys in the other. She'd come over to me and ask that I put her phone and keys in my pocket. She would stare in my eyes and shout "Adam look at this place! How beautiful!" Afterwards we'd stay up in her car parked in the lot under the flickering street light. She'd open her trunk and pull out mounds of blankets and wrap herself up as we talk and talk I would make her laugh so hard her eyes would close and her head would tilt slightly up as she gasped for breath and she would say the most profoundly beautiful things about God, love, and the homeless that it would make me sign and think. I would turn to her and say "You are very wise Bea." As we continue to talk. "Can you just come here! Adam please!" she would interject periodically and I would draw closer to the pile of colorful fabrics that her face is poking out of.
"GO ED"
James bellows and I am pulled back into reality.
...reality.
The reality is that she isn't here tonight.
The reality is she isn't talking to me.
She isn't texting me.
She isn't e-mailing me.
The reality is she refuses to have any sort of relationship with me.
The reality is I miss her.
The reality is I love her.
The reality is I need this pantry and I need this people. I need this community. I need these people who know my name, who greet me with a smile, who show me an honesty I've never seen, who listen and tell it like it is.
God I love the pantry.
God I love this life. I love being at the pantry. I love Better Way on Friday nights. I miss the Wednesday night bible studies even though I have my opinions about Beth Moore. I love the team meetings where Ed speaks to harshly and Kelly controls too much. I am so blessed. And I am overwhelmed by your goodness.
Here I am. I am in your pantry and I am experiencing a worship unlike any other.
I trust you Jesus
soften her heart
heal Bea
heal me.
Bon Iver - Holocene