EDITOR'S NOTE: In October 2017 I began a new venture as a synodically authorized minister at Faith Lutheran Church in Wolverton, Minn. The ride over the past 2.5 years has been an amazing journey of learning, growing and a deepening of my theological mind. This sermon took place on July 8, 2018.
As Donna and Ron jumped on the train, you could tell they were the kind of people that no one wants to stand by when they are riding public transportation. ... They were sweaty, and smelled of booze. … And while we were all packed in like sardines, the folks on the train still found a way to squeeze their way away from the couple, even though at the last stop they couldn’t be bothered to move to allow more people on.
But Donna and Ron seemed oblivious to the slights as they worked their way onto the train. ... Ron wedged his way deep enough onto the car so that he could hold onto the stabilizing pole that I also happened to be clung to. … Donna trailed him, and once Ron had taken up his position, she grabbed a hold of his side and held on gratefully.
Donna had the look of one who has been long-time drinker. ... She was emaciated, probably not weighing much more than 100 pounds. Her eyes were sunken and darkened from the years of hard living. … She was missing teeth and every joint protruded in ways that made her look as if she was a living skeleton with some skin draped over her for cover.
Ron looked a little better. … His skin wasn’t as yellow, and he still had some meat on his bones. But, nevertheless, he was intoxicated as well. From the outset he was shier, never wanting to look me fully in the face.
But positioned as we were, Donna and I ended up face to face, probably note much more than 8 to 10 inches apart, her gripping Ron’s shoulder and looking up at me over him. ... I’m telling you, the train was packed.
Obviously an amiable person, Donna struck up a conversation with me right away. It didn’t take her long to find out why I was in town as she could tell that I was part of the National Youth Gathering. … I mean, to be fair, all of downtown Houston could tell who we were as soon as they stepped on one of the lightrail trains.
And it wasn’t long after that Donna poured out her story. She admitted that they had been drinking, but she explained it by telling me that they had been celebrating because just a couple of months earlier she and Ron had landed an apartment through the city of Houston’s housing program. … 12 months rent free. … A roof over their head, and most importantly one with air conditioning, something of importance in Houston.
She said that she knew the other people on the train were looking down on them for drinking during the day, but they couldn’t understand the importance of this development for her and Ron. … I meekly added that they most likely did not.
I asked Donna how long she and Ron had known each other and how long they had been without a home. She said she’s been on the streets for 20 years; Ron a little less. And that they’d been together for sometime now, but they couldn’t get married. She said to file for a marriage license, you needed a permanent address, and besides the marriage certificate costed $100 or more. … And she added quietly, “No one here wants to marry street people anyway.”
I assured Donna that if she and Ron were in Minnesota, I would marry them. And that I hoped that they didn’t give up on their dream of one day being able to say their vows. Meanwhile, I said, I’m pretty sure that God still sees your relationship as holy. … At the mention of that, Donna lit up, and gushed with joy, thanking me endlessly. … No need to thank me, I said. The Gospel is for everyone. I just happened to be the messenger.
Donna and I talked for the entire 30 minutes she and Ron were on the train. I only got an occasional “Yep” or “Nope” out of Ron, but I don’t think it was because he was being recalcitrant. … I think it was more borne out of the fact of having been one of the forgotten people for so long, living life in a forgotten way, that he just didn’t have much to say to a stranger willing to converse with him.
I learned that Donna had actually spent a year in Minneapolis, a long, long time ago. She said that she and a group of seven others decided they wanted to live in Minnesota and moved here, not knowing what they were getting themselves into. And in the brutal winter, she and the others had lived in an abandoned granary across from a soup kitchen. She said that they lived off the food shelves and the soup kitchens and even out of the back of some restaurants who took care of street people.
Imagining life on the street during our brutal winters, I muttered, “I surely hope that we were kind to you,” feeling some obligation that I had to speak on behalf of all Minnesotans. … She assured me that they were.
And then, just like that, Donna and Ron had arrived at their stop along the train line, and they started pressing toward the door to the platform.
We exchanged some platitudes, and I congratulated Donna and Ron on their apartment, and welcomed them to Wolverton some day. I told them that if they ever got up our way, I’d marry them right here and we’d throw them a party too. … That made Donna chortle all the way off the train. By the gleam in her eyes, I think it might have been the best she’d felt about herself … and about the world in quite a while.
Before we all left for Houston, you may remember, that I told our LYO kids that my hope for them during the trip to Nationals was for them to learn to live in Christ through their relationships with others. … I spoke that Sunday after our send-off service downstairs in our fellowship hall and mentioned that our God is a relational God. … But what does it exactly mean that we have a relational God? … Well, to me, it’s essentially what I preached to our kids that Sunday and then again during the week while we were gone.
It means that we know our God through our relationship with Jesus Christ, and that we know our relationship with Christ through our relationships with others. … In other words, being relational means that if we know Jesus through our relationships with others, and we know God through our relationship with Christ, then most certainly we please God when we are gracious to all of those around us.
Or to put it another way, we make an impact on God’s experience because a relational God is affected by what we do, for good or for bad. … In other words, God sometimes feels emotions in response to our actions. … We please him when we care for our fellow humans here on earth, and we hurt him when we turn a blind eye to others in need.
And where we were -- in downtown Houston -- there were plenty of people in need. It was an eye-opening experience, as we couldn’t avoid the mass of humanity who called the streets home. …. They were around us from the moment we left the hotel in the morning, until we came back late at night. …. Everywhere you looked there were people sleeping on sidewalks, stoops, rail stations, park benches. You name it. … And there were countless panhandlers on every straight, asking for a meal or a couple of bucks. It was overwhelming.
But then again it was also educational. … For a group of Midwestern, fairly well off folks, this was a window into a world of which we can basically ignore. ... Even the homeless crisis we have here in the Fargo-Moorhead area pales in comparison to the need that exists in inner cities. And as a background to nearly a week of worship and calls to action from Lutheran leaders, the interactions with Houston’s street people were a tangible reminder that there are many people who are marginalized by our affluent society.
All of this made for an easy impromptu sermon after we got back to the hotel one night. We generally finished our evenings with a 15-minute wind down so that we could plan for the next day and we could also discuss the meaning of the days speakers and events. ... My interactions with the folks living on the streets in Houston, bolstered by the rousing messages we heard one night in particular, reminded me that we are called to see those in our society who are unseen, and reminded me of the hope that I had expressed to our kids before we left.
Just as Jesus spent his days hanging out with those marginalized by society … the likes of the poor, those who were ill, prostitutes and tax collectors and beggars and Samaritans … we too are called to seek out those who are marginalized and unseen in our society.
Simply put: That night when I talked with the group, I was reminded that we find Christ in our everyday actions. We have the opportunity to walk in Christ’s footsteps every time we interact with someone ... anyone around us ... family or not, friends or not … strangers or not. … Even with those who happen to be drunk at 4 in the afternoon and making their way onto a busy lightrail car.
Unfortunately, I think we like to complicate what it is to worship our God … or what it is that Christ asks from us. … When in all reality, the message is fairly simple: We find Jesus in how we treat others. … From lifting the spirits of a fellow traveler who has had it with congested mass transit and is just plain weary. … To caring about the whereabouts of all of the group members in a strange new city. … To allowing another hot and sweaty soul cut in line because their group was several groups away and they were afraid they were going to get left behind.
I was proud of our group -- adults and youth alike -- on our trip. They demonstrated their relationships with Christ in a myriad of small and large ways while we were away for an exhausting seven days. … They grew tight, and they looked out for each other. They helped strangers in many a different way. … They thanked police and transit authority workers and gathering volunteers. … And they were gracious to other LYO gatherers.
And just as I preached on that Sunday before we all took off, I return with that same message: Our God is a relational God, and as such we find Christ in the ways we treat others around us. ... In our simple gestures of kindness to our grand acts of generosity. … It all matters to our God, and it all grows his heart as much as it does ours.
And it took Donna to reinforce that message for me …. and whether she understood it or not, I found Christ in her more than she ever found Christ in me.
And that is the “Good News” for this Sunday. … Amen.
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