48 Hours.

For the first time in my life, I have gone to bed hungry. And while the dreams about burritos that followed as I drifted into sleep were humorous, the pangs of hunger, and mild obsession with food were not. While this was not an experience that I am longing to relive again, I feel that maybe it is necessary. Maybe I should experience hunger on a more regular basis, to understand, if only minimally, what the majority of the world experiences regularly.

My seminar class decided to fast for 48 hours, and as I write this, I am at 39.  Breakfast is literally calling my name. Okay maybe not really, if it was that would be a little freaky. This was my first fast ever. I have had the intent to fast before, but never followed through. But this one I am…Go big or go home, right? While the motivation behind our fast was not entirely spiritual, I think that it is almost impossible to eliminate a heightened sense of spirituality. I hoped to pray myself through the trying moments, and in some occasions, I was successful. In others, I just did more distracting homework. But what I began to realize is that the revelations I was having, overlapped into all areas of my life, academic, physical and spiritual. We were learning about hunger in my psych class, go figure, and studying Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. It all began to make sense. If people are hungry, then that is their primary focus. The goal of each day is to survive, and meet your basic needs. We don’t worry  needing to eat or drink, or even for the most part our safety. Our primary concern is acceptance and love and we seek that out in unfulfilling ways, which contributes to the decline happiness levels in the US. I think that Maslow might have been onto something.

I am fully aware that fasting for 48 hours is not a true experience of hunger or poverty; I plan on eating a delicious, nutrisious breakfast as soon as I wake up in the morning. Most hungry people can’t count on that…Last night after studying in the library for way to long, I headed outside and it was FREEZING. I usually run kinda cold, but all  day I had been freezing, and this was just the topper. As I walked out of the library, I was struck by the hoplessness of being homeless and starving. What would I do if put in that situation? The thought of ME being homeless has never really occurred. Quite frankly until this point I have had relatively no input into my living condition. I was born into the wonderful family that I have, and my parents have always worked their bums off providing for me. My mom never let me go to bed hungry. If I was homeless on that cold night, which I’m sure is just a foreshadowing of what is to come, and hungry, I don’t know what I would. Maybe I would pray? Probably either for deliverance, or death. Let me remind you I hadn’t eaten for 12 hours and it was maybe 40 degrees outside. Maybe I am a complete baby (very likely) or homelessness is a deeply serious issue.

Tonight, my house church from ethos and I grabbed some hamburgers and some waters and headed out to the streets of downtown Nashville. We broke up into smaller groups (don’t worry Mom, I had a 6’5’’ guy with me!...yeah I asked how tall he was…) and set out to help those in need. We stopped on the bridge to talk with some men, and their stories blew me away. Mark. He has two daughters and is from SoCal but moved to Indiana to be with family. He lost all he had, a 199 acre farm he bought from the profit of selling his 300,000 house, in a divorce which left him to roam the streets of Nashville. He had a pretty good set-up under some trees by the river until the floods last spring, which left him with out his minimal possessions. Now he is living at a church and working at their kitchen to serve other homeless and needy people. While a warm bed is offered to him, he chooses to sleep outside with sleeping bags in order to keep himself humble. This man is making such an impact on his community, and in light of his efforts, my hamburgers (which he wouldn’t take because he said other people needed them more) suddenly became very insignificant.

Mark. Mike. George. Larry. Bryan. Sharon. These are the names of the homeless that I have met since moving here, but yet there are literally 1000’s more. And they probably go to bed hungry and cold each and every night. And some of these men and women are among the most faithful people I know. Mark holds tight to the knowledge that God DOES have a plan for him, even if he can’t see it right now. Maybe it truly is a blessing to be poor. As for the others who do not know Jesus, I am not sure how I can share the love of Jesus with them, if their basic needs aren’t met. Do they have a reason to hope, because from my point of view, life has dealt them some crummy cards. How can I begin to “minister” to them if I can’t even fathom walking a minute in their shoes.?

I don’t have an answer for this problem.  God, please show me yours.