The Least of These

Why is it, that when I ask God to teach me something, I’m always surprised when he does?

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about Matthew 25. You know, the infamous ‘sheep and goats’ passage? It was back in October that I really became…I don’t know…convicted about it. I realized that as Christians we are called to serve the least of these, and not doing so leads to some pretty harsh consequences. The Bible lays out pretty clearly who the ‘least of these’ are: the hungry, thirsty, homeless, cold, sick and imprisoned. It also classifies the needy pretty clearly: widows, orphans and strangers. You really can’t say, ‘I didn’t know who they were.’ So, I’ve been challenging myself this whole year to do stuff that falls into the category of ‘helping the least of these,’ but lately I’ve really been asking God to show me new ways to go about doing this. It’s felt like I could be doing more or doing something differently. Well, Tuesday is apparently my school day.

I start off Tuesdays at the Newington Day Centre. Not my cup of tea, by any stretch. Working with the elderly is a huge challenge for me and I think might actually fall behind ‘teach kindergarten’ in the list of possible career ideas. (This is very low on the list. It’s above ‘poll dancer’ but not by a whole lot.) I spent the first part of this year trying to get out of going to the NDC. I offered other ideas; I told Lesley, Chris and Doug that I was uncomfortable to the point of near-panic attacks; I cried when I had to go. But alas, I have remained. And it’s actually turned out to be not so bad. I’ve found some members there that I can talk to, and the other volunteers are great. I still spend most of my time in the kitchen as opposed to the members’ rooms, but I can at least breathe easy while I’m there.

Today, one of the ladies I’ve gotten to know a little bit arrived early. Mary’s stooped and tiny and shuffles around in her slippers holding her walker in a death grip, but she’s also lucid and can carry on a conversation (sadly, unlike a lot of the members.) She’s also an amazingly chipper 92 years old, which I found out today when I went to talk to her. I have never, before this morning, purposefully gone to sit and chat with one of the members, but when I saw her I just felt like saying more than my normal hello. So we chatted about her son, her late husband, her walker, her age, my own grandparents… It suddenly occurred to me that here was someone who fell into one of the ‘least of these’ categories: a lonely widow. And it wasn’t that hard to make her happy. She’s a 92-year-old woman who lives alone; of course she loves to talk!

After work at the NDC, I came home to get some other work done. I read my book a bit, prepped tomorrow’s Bible study, and just generally enjoyed the day. Chris called in about 4.00 to lift me so that we could go hang out in Tiger’s Bay, the local Unionist housing estate and home to the Youth Club kids. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t want to go. I had told Chris before that I did, but today I just didn’t feel like it. The kids usually ‘do my head in’ (read: drive me crazy) and I just wasn’t feeling up for it. But I went anyway. We saw a bunch of kids that are normally out, and we even ran into some we hadn’t seen in a while. We ended up spending some time with a group of boys at the estate’s bonfire pile (more on that after July 12) and talking to them about cross-community activities. One boy in particular, who we hadn’t seen in months, was there. He’s an interesting person; when he’s on his game he’s a pleasure to be around. When he’s not, he’s an absolute nightmare. Today he was great; he held us in conversation, he asked how we were. When some of the other boys—his peers—started lamenting all the cross-community activities (read: Catholic and Protestant) as being boring or simply unbearable due to the nature of the people involved, this boy spoke up; ‘I don’t think it’s that bad. I don’t mind Catholics.’ I couldn’t believe it. It was obvious this was his own opinion and not just some rhetoric he was regurgitating, otherwise he wouldn’t have contradicted his peers on the subject. Amazing. All of a sudden it struck me: category number 2. This kid’s not an orphan exactly, but he does come from one of the most dysfunctional families I’ve ever heard of. The fact that he’s in school and seems functional in society is a pretty big leap; the fact that he willingly admits that he doesn’t mind Catholics in front of his friends in the middle of a staunchly Protestant housing estate is nothing short of divine. All he needed was someone to talk to; someone to show they were interested in his life. Huh. That wasn’t so hard either.

Once Chris dropped me off and we critiqued the acts on ‘Britain’s Got Talent’ over a cup of coffee, Nate pointed out two bags in the hallway full of food for Beautiful Feet, the homeless ministry I sometimes work with. Groan. I hadn’t planned on going, I knew Phen wasn’t going to be able to go, and I couldn’t get in touch with any of the other regulars. And Jonny didn’t even ask, he just dropped the food off and assumed we would take it. To top it all off, I had no cash and no money on my bus pass. Phen offered me his, so I begrudgingly took it figuring I would drop off the food, say hello and then go home. I realized half way to our meeting spot that God was probably trying to teach me something. (I’m getting quick!) I arrived at the café we use as ‘base camp’ a little after 7.00 to discover that it was, in fact, closed. No one was about and I had no idea where a different meeting location might be. I pulled out my phone to call Jonny, discovered I had missed a call from him, and rang him back only to have it go straight to voice mail. At this point, I decided I had two choices: 1) return home with the food and try to pawn off 10 egg-n-onion sandwiches on the boys (not good) or 2) find some agency to take the food. Option 2 seemed like the best and most productive, so I decided to take it to the Salvation Army shelter. On my way, I figured I could go by the convenience store where we usually see people begging for change and see if my friend Robert was about. Well, Robert wasn’t out, but there were two other people there, one of whom was a woman. It’s highly unusual to see women out begging on the streets. Even when the groups from Beautiful Feet go out we try to have at least one guy in each group just for security; some of the people we meet are drunk and belligerent. I was very aware of the fact that I was a lone woman carrying a Christian Aid bag full of sandwiches and crisps around City Centre Belfast, but fortunately it was still light out, and there were women to talk to.

As I approached the two sitting by the convenience shop door, they seemed a little wary. I just smiled, crouched down and offered them a big ‘Hi! How are you?’ (I always feel stupid asking the homeless ‘How are you?’ but I haven’t come up with any other salutation that sounds less stupid, plus ‘How are you?’ doesn’t really mean ‘How are you?’ so I guess I’m okay.) They said they were fine. I said, ‘I’ve got a load of sandwiches and crisps here. You want anything?’ Their eyes immediately lit up. ‘Yes, please! We’re starving!’ (And I think they might have actually meant ‘starving.’) I gave them 2 sandwiches apiece and asked if they knew if any more people were out. They said yes and pointed me in the right direction.

I started off towards the street they indicated and met 3 more people, again one of whom was a woman. I offered each of them a sandwich and a bag of crisps, along with a smile and a handshake, and then went on my way. I didn’t actually find anyone on the street that my first friends had told me about, but I checked an alley where people sometimes hang out, and again met 3 more people, one a woman. They were more than happy to take the rest of the sandwiches and crisps off my hands. One of them, Michael, asked me, ‘Are you a Christian?’ ‘Yeah,’ I replied. ‘Well, I try to be, anyway.’ ‘That’s cool,’ he said. And it dawned on me; category number three: strangers. Maybe not strangers to Belfast, but some of them were strangers to being homeless (one of the women told me she had just been ‘evicted’ from her house by the reigning paramilitary) and all were strangers to me.

Now out of sandwiches and crisps, I meandered on to my bus stop. While there, an older man struck up a conversation with me. He repeatedly pulled a ‘tall boy’ beer from his inner jacket pocket and would take healthy swigs between sentences, but all in all was quite nice and jovial and seemed to just want someone to talk to. He was by no means the drunkest person I’ve ever talked to in City Centre, and he was perfectly civil (and I was not alone at the bus stop, lest my mother and grandmother worry.) It was actually quite nice.

I realized on the bus trip home that this whole day had been one big lesson from an Almighty teacher, and I was feeling pretty good about the lesson. First of all, it’s not about me or my comfort zone. Besides, God’s not going to ask me to do anything he wouldn’t be willing to do himself (or hasn’t already done) and anything he wouldn’t qualify me to do. Second, the ‘least of these’ are all around, I just have to open my eyes to them. Third, caring for the ‘least of these’ is not that hard. Smiling to someone, talking to someone, offering someone a sandwich; none of it’s rocket science. It was almost as though God was saying, ‘Just do what you do. I’ll work through that.’ Right. Lesson learned.

Memorial Day

It’s Memorial Day today in the States; it’s a lovely Bank Holiday here in Northern Ireland (and the rest of the UK) so it’s the perfect opportunity to write a bit. Normally, I would be doing administrative stuff in the church office on Monday, but Chris said he had no intention of coming in on a bank holiday so neither do I. The paper pushing can wait. Now I’ve got my window open and my bare feet propped up on the window sill with my laptop in my lap. Beautiful. Some would say that all I need now is a beer, but I think I’ll hold off.

So what’s been up? Well, since my last update about my funds, I am indeed over goal: $7,828.00 in total as of Thursday the 29^th. Woo-hoo! Thank you all so much. Also, since my last update I’ve had a lot of new projects and experiences. I went with the other YAVs on our last retreat to Iona, a small island off the west coast of Scotland, part of the Inner Hebrides, and home to the ‘iona community’, Wild Goose publications, and the closest thing Presbyterians have to Mecca. It was amazing. I’ve heard a lot about Iona, mostly through college since my campus minister, Tommy, (and his best friend, Bryan,) was/were (is/are) really into Celtic spirituality and all things Iona. Also, the worship books that Wild Goose produces are pretty idiot-proof and when you’re leading several groups of college kids—and when several groups of college kids are leading each other—it helps to have something that is theologically sound as well as easy to participate in. Many services were taken from one of the Wild Goose worship books. We—the YAVs with Doug and his wife, Elaine—participated in several of these worship services at the Iona Abbey. Meeting in a rugged, old stone sanctuary that dates back to the early 13^th century certainly gives one spiritual pause. And it’s a fabulous place to sing. Andy, Nathaniel, Phen and I managed to pull a rather amazing rendition of ‘Amazing Grace’ together, improv style. It was one of the most honest historical worship experiences I’ve ever had. We sang where Benedictine monks have chanted.

Also while on Iona, we had the opportunity to go on a pilgrimage. We partook in a 7-mile hike around the island, stopping for reflection and prayer at various points. It was beautiful scenery and was just overall a very ‘thin’ experience. (One of the ideas I picked up from Tommy and Bryan, that I’m pretty sure stems from Celtic spirituality, is one that states that there are ‘thin places’ on earth, places where heaven and God seem much closer than in the muck, mire, hustle and bustle of the everyday. These places can crop up anywhere and are different for everyone, but I can assure you that Iona was full of them.) Looking out over St. Columba’s Bay, or looking towards the Scottish coast, or staring west out over the vast expanse of Atlantic Ocean toward home, I couldn’t help but worship God. This isn’t supposed to be an evolution vs. creation thing, but I can’t look at scenery like that—views so wide it’s literally 360^O of awesome, skies so blue it makes your eyes hurt, a horizon that stretches to the very limits of human sight, mountains that rise high enough to still be capped with snow before crashing into the green-blue sea—and not believe in a wonderful Creator. We, humans, are made in the image of God, and I know how much we love to create and paint and make things, so I must believe that God loves to do the same. (He just gets a much bigger canvas.)

Our last evening on Iona, we spoke to a wonderful woman named Jan, a member of the iona community. She spoke a lot about what the iona community is and does, and the thing that stuck with me was the one rule that community members are expected to live by. It consists of four parts: 1) daily prayer and Bible study, 2) regular meeting together, 3) working for justice, peace and the integrity of creation, and 4) mutual accountability for the use of members’ time and money. She spoke a little about each one, but the point I found the most interesting was number 4, the accountability. Maybe it’s a Western thing, maybe it’s a Northern Hemisphere thing, maybe it’s an American thing or a Presbyterian thing; whatever the ‘thing’ is, we hate talking about money. We don’t mind putting it on display with fancy cars, big houses, flat screen plasma TVs, and diplomas from top universities. Even the church is not exempt from this display; bigger buildings, flashy media, and no-expense-spared pizza parties to try and attract youth. Now, we need buildings to meet in, and I like having the words to songs projected on a screen (seems more communal that way instead of everyone reading out of an individual hymnbook. Plus it’s just better for your diaphragm to look up at a screen instead of squishing your head down into a hymnbook, but I digress.) And pizza parties definitely have their time and place, but on the whole we hate talking about money. Time is even worse, and I know that’s a Western/Northern thing. The busier we are, the more productive we must be, right? Jan said that one of the beautiful things about the mutual accountability is that it involves everyone. There is no judgment, just a declaration of what you’ve been doing with your time and money. Members bounce ideas off each other. Questions such as, ‘Is that the best use of your time?’ ‘Is that the best use of your money?’ ‘Can you give more?’ are just as common as ‘Do you have enough time for yourself? For your family?’ ‘Are you getting personal devotion time?’ (Remember point number 1?) It seemed like such a ‘Duh!’ moment for me. We are called as Christians to hold each other accountable for everything else, why not our time and money as well? My Dad and I have been telling my mother ‘It’s okay to say “No,”’ for years so that she remembers to not sign up for every committee. In turn, my mom has always been the voice of reason when it comes to my bank account. We are one big family in Christ, so why should this courtesy of accountability not be extended to our brothers and sisters?

I mentioned earlier that I’ve had a lot of other new experiences and projects since my last update. I’ve been reading a lot this whole year. I had a goal of reading through the Old Testament by the time I left, but considering I’m only now to 1 Samuel, I don’t think I’m gonna get from 2 Samuel to Micah in eight weeks. Even so, I’ve really enjoyed it. I figured that I couldn’t really understand Jesus unless I understood the world he came from (there’s that cultural anthropology minor coming out) and the best place to learn about Jesus’ world would be the Hebrew Scriptures. After all, Jesus the man was an Arabic Jew and would have been taught like any other male Arabic Jew of his day. He lived in the Promised Land and knew about occupation first hand; his people had a history of it. It’s been very educational to read through the Old Testament. Honestly, I’ve been surprised at the sub-stories I didn’t know; there’s a lot they don’t tell you in 2^nd grade Sunday School. Samson indeed destroyed the temple and all the Philistines with it, but that was after he had his eyes gouged out and was forced into slavery for a few years. Noah was a drunk, Moses was a murderer and rule-breaker, Joshua ‘fit the battle of Jericho’ but slaughtered every living thing in the city, and the Israelites on the whole are a lying, mischievous bunch of spiritual whores. Every other chapter in the book of Judges is about bringing them back from whatever pagan god they’d decided to serve next. And through it all, God loves them. God raises up some really awful people to do some really fantastic things and eventually brings us Jesus through a long line of lying, mischievous spiritual whores. It makes me feel better about my own barely-existent familial dysfunction.

Along with reading the Old Testament I’ve been reading a whole string of books on faith and spiritual development and living like a Christian. It’s been really challenging and eye-opening. I’m not gonna say that any of them have completely changed my outlook on life, but all these things together—studying the Bible, living in a foreign country, reading about others who have struggled with the same things I struggle with and have some new ideas about how to deal with them—have all served to strengthen and deepen my faith while giving me new ideas about how to live it out. After all, I am a Christian and am called to live differently. Some of these books (any one of which I would recommend) are Velvet Elvis: Repainting the Christian Faith and SexGod: Exploring the Endless Connections Between Sexuality and Spirituality by Rob Bell; The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne; unChristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks about Christianity…And Why it Matters by David Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons; Crazy Love by Francis Chan and Trolls & Truth by Jimmy Dorrell. I’m currently reading Acts of Faith by Eboo Patel and it’s really blowing my mind (in a good way.) It’s equal parts terrifying and beautiful and wakes up a passion in me that says, ‘YES! This is why I want to teach!’ Good stuff.

On that note, we move on to ‘Plans for Home.’ As I just mentioned, I want to teach. This is not really a new idea, I’ve long thought that I could enjoy the teaching profession, I just never knew what I would teach if I ever did, plus I didn’t really know if I truly wanted to. Last school year (2008-2009) was spent being a substitute teacher at Science Hill High School where I ended up doing some long-term assignments along with volunteering a large chunk of my time to the theatre department. I loved every minute. Nothing else I’ve ever done has made me readily willing to get up every day at 5.45am so that I could build stage flats before going to teach Macbeth. While here in Belfast, I’ve loved the opportunities I’ve had to work with youth and young adults, and I live for what people here call the ‘penny dropping moment.’ Akin to our ‘light bulb moment’ it’s the moment where the person you’re teaching suddenly ‘gets it’ and it all makes sense. It’s a great feeling. With that in mind I’ve applied to grad school to get my Master’s in Education. Originally my thought was to teach abroad, but now—after reading much of Acts of Faith—I’ve been thinking that I more want to teach in the States and take them abroad. I’ll be (hopefully) getting a double certification in sociology and English; I figure you have to understand the culture and people behind the books. You can’t read To Kill A Mockingbird without knowing about racism in the Deep South and you can’t read Cry, the Beloved Country without studying apartheid in South Africa. Being the dreamer, I would love to take literary tours of the world with students to teach them about the wider world through literature and people. ‘Hello! My name is “Idealist”’ So what? Just give me a school district with a vision.

Speaking of home, I come back to Tennessee July 26. Not gonna lie, I can’t wait. I love working here and I love my projects and the people and everything I’ve been able to do, but a year is a long time to be gone without a glimpse of home. I miss my mountains and Cavehill just doesn’t cut it. In the meantime, though, I’ll continue to lay the groundwork for some new projects for next year’s YAV. Want to make sure they’ll have as much of a blast as I have!

Monetary Update REVISED

God is so good! I sent the monetary update to all my friends and family, as well as sending a copy to my church secretary asking her to pass it on through the church email list. In response, she asked if the $6,440 included the money that was raised at an event my church held for me back in February. For whatever reason it hadn’t been sent to the YAV Office yet so I didn’t know about it, but there’s a check from my church for $1,287! This is more than enough to cover the deficit and actually puts me over goal for May 15. When I said there was no reason we shouldn’t try to raise $1,000 in 3 days, I never dreamed God would raise up that amount in 30 minutes! He is so good! Thank you to all who made that $1,287 possible, and thank you to all you who have made the other $6,440 possible! My next goal is all $9,000 by July 15 and we are well on the way. I have no doubt (especially now) that God will see to it that it’s covered!

Monetary Update!

Hey everyone! What’s the craic? (Translation: What’s new with you?) I hope this finds you all well and enjoying spring. I know this season can be crazy; finishing up school work, final exams, planning for the summer, starting staff training for camps—it’s nuts! Belfast is no different. My ‘kids’ at the church are all studying hard for their end-of-year tests, the members at the WAVE Centre are all planning holidays and family trips, and everyone is anxious for the weather to get warm! (Does it get warm here? The jury’s still out; I’ll let you know!)

With all that’s been going on, I realized that I haven’t sent out a monetary update in a while. First of all, as always, thank you so much for your donations! You have all helped me raise just over $6,440! This is incredible! I’m well over two thirds of the way to my overall goal of $9,000. However, as incredible as this is, I am over a thousand dollars short of my next fundraising goal; the YAV Office has set a goal for $7,500 to be in by May 15. That’s this Saturday. Now, as mind-blowing as it would be to raise $1,060 in three days, if this doesn’t happen I won’t get deported. But it doesn’t mean that we can’t try! I still need monetary support. You all have been so generous, and I can’t thank you enough for that. Please continue to donate. No amount is too small (or too large!) and the easiest way to make a tax-deductible donation is to simply go the YAV homepage at www.pcusa.org/yav. Click ‘Support A YAV’ on the right-hand side of the screen, scroll down to the bottom of the page, click ‘Lynnea Hunter’ and follow the instructions.

I hope you continue to enjoy the stories and photos that I post here, and thanks for checking them out. I sure enjoy living them! Thank you all so much, again, for all your support! I definitely feel your thoughts and prayers everyday! God bless!

Síocháin (Peace...)