A Winter Night with Warmth

SATURDAY, JANUARY 25, 2014

A Winter Night with Warmth

by Dee Kostelyk

Women are gathered, one cross legged on the floor, one in a wheelchair, two reaching for blankets.  One of them says “I love doing things like this.”

In a row go the Blessing Blankets tied neatly with twine, folded with great care, thoughts of who they might cover.

Downstairs sandwiches are being prepared and wrapped, all in a row.  The woman is thinking about how many she should make and wondering about who will eat them.

Upstairs, coats, shoes, socks, hats and gloves are being sorted.  A woman silently prays, “Lord, what am I missing? Show me what to take us with us tonight.”

A man gathers the Blessing Blankets, coats, shoes, and other winter items and piles them high onto carts to bring downstairs.  There, he carefully places all the bins and bags in the back of the church bus.

It’s already been a long day for some of these people, including the Pastor who prepares his heart and mind to deliver the message at the New Hope service.  He thinks about ministering to the homeless later that evening as well. He wonders about where to go and how to love more…wishing for additional resources, asking God how to impact with greater depth, yet anticipating the power of the Spirit to move that night.

Dark and cold cement meet the man who returns to his illusion of protection under the viaduct.  Beyond the thoughts that drag through his mind is a feeling of cold that numbs the limbs, a misery hardly recognized, a hope that is bound, a life that is light buried.

The New Hope service is over, the bus holds a mixed bag of people lovers, wanting to give a piece of warmth that they, themselves, have needed and received.  The Pastor turns the key in the ignition but something is wrong as the dashboard lights up. A few men try to work on a solution.

Inside, the people gather, some offering up silent prayers, others chatting, some lost in thought.  A woman silently prays “Lord, there are people who need these blankets and coats. Someone needs to eat.”  Her heart is down. She can feel with certainty that people need them that night.

Others offer words of encouragement.  “Maybe God is saving us from something.”

The men unload the bus when it’s clear we cannot use it.

Bins and bags of hope lay strewn in an unorganized heap.  Hearts are deflated BUT compassion and determination beat stronger.  Greater is He inside of us than he that is of the world.

Pastor is torn.  There is fatigue in the room.  It would be easy to say “let’s go next week instead” but he feels it too.  Some of God’s children are in need tonight, he thinks.

At the end of the couch by the wall Jesus is sitting.  His smile is slight and tender. He’s watching His sheep.  He tilts his head as he watches the branches stretch out and the fruit ripen.  

While he takes in this scene, He also watches the two men at the street corners, and the man who just lied down under the viaduct and the other man not far away looking for cardboard to burn.  He looks at each one of the people with a consuming love. He grieves, a few tears falling, he sighs, a few more tears, he smiles, he enjoys…his sheep are his and his hand stretches out over the people in the warm church and the men who are in the cold and his power and love curl around their toes and wrap around their shoulders.  He will show the people lovers what can happen with some sandwiches, blankets, a few bags of supplies, a van too small and some willing hearts.

The Pastor approaches one of the women and says, “Should we take the van and bring enough for ten, cold people?”

“Yes,” she replies.

The sheep work together, each thinking of what might be needed.  Will everyone fit? Maybe a few will go home. Fatigue seems to be inside all of them but the desire to LOVE wins out.

Jesus is still watching.  He’s leaning forward now, still smiling.

With all the items loaded into the much smaller van, the people squeeze inside, this mixed bag, shoulder to shoulder, wound to wound.

Not one person made the decision to stay back.

Among them is a teenager with headphones on, looking out the window.

Jesus is inside the van too.  He is also sitting near the man under the viaduct as he watches his other child looking for cardboard.  The men on the street corners have no idea that Jesus is with them too.

A stop under the viaducts finds Dave.  He had no idea the people would be there that night with warm blankets and sandwiches. One of the men converses with Dave.  “You don’t have to live like this,” he says.

Jesus is crouched nearby.  He’s wearing a warm coat and a wool hat, carrying a pillow that he had been laying his head on as he watched over the homeless man.  In one fluid moment, he hands the pillow over to one of the people lovers who in turn hands it over to Dave.

As Jesus takes in the scene, adoration for the man on the mattress, sorrow for the road that brought him there and appreciation for the beauty of the wounded workers grips him.  If only the homeless man named Dave would know that I would roll out a red carpet for him as if he were a king.

The van moves on, everyone on high alert, intent to not miss someone in need.  Eyes of the ones who have a home to go to are seeking the eyes of the ones who don’t.  One woman thinks, I am you and you are me.

The man looking for cardboard to burn stumbles along.  His thoughts are muddled as he sees the church van approach.  

“Do you need any blankets?  We have coats, hats and gloves too.  How about a sandwich?” the Pastor asks.

Some of the people emerge from the van.  

Face to face the man is younger than what he first appeared.  On the edge of a stupor, the man is able to still recognize that being with these visitors calls for some kind of song, some kind of prayer.  “Let’s sing a Christmas carol,” he says.

The mom instinct kicks in with one of the women as she tenderly wraps the man’s neck with a scarf.  Someone else puts gloves in his pocket while a few others fill a bag with some blankets and snacks. He is given some sandwiches.

One of the men, a homeless veteran himself, prays for the homeless man.  Some of the other people lovers join in and the man is surrounded by a wall of prayer warriors.  The wind whips the bitterly cold air as we huddle in.

A few feet away Jesus stands.  His eyes are intense. He sees, though nobody else can, the light that pours from the people’s fingertips as they touch the man’s coat.  Jesus silently weeps at the beauty of the scene while feeling sadness at the same time. He looks at the homeless man named Tim. He remembers Tim as a boy.  He sees the boy inside the man now.

Two more of God’s children are found at street corners.  The people help the best they can but feel it’s not enough.  Are these men familiar? It seems some of the church people recognize them.  The people don’t know the men’s names but Jesus does. Their names are engraved on his palm.  He remembers when his hands formed each of them in their mother’s womb.

The van heads back to church.  The people talk about ideas. They think about their own lives.  Each one is tired and Jesus sits among them. He thinks, they don’t even know what they have done.  They don’t even know what I’m going to do.  Jesus smiles like a little boy.  He is looking forward to teaching them.  He is looking forward to showing them.

The girl with the headphones ponders what she saw that night, seeds being planted in her heart while at the same time texting a friend.

This mixed bag of church people…wounded workers…people lovers…precious sheep…will continue their mission with Jesus.  They will find healing in their work and they will be the hands and feet of Jesus…their own tears of sadness and joy will mix a thread of gold that Jesus will create

to bring light to the people.