Tearing Down the Walls to Help the Homeless
Last Wednesday night, I took the Luck family downtown Indy to participate in an a ministry to the homeless called, Tearing Down the Walls. After a quick orientation, we gathered supplies(bottled water, sack lunches, fresh hot spaghetti) and headed out to the various homeless camps around the city. The goal of the outreach was simple: to develop friendships with people who are homeless and to show them the love of Christ.
As we were loading up our vehicles to begin the outreach, Harrison asks, “Dad, why do they call the ministry, ‘Tearing Down the Walls’? I don’t understand what walls have to do with helping the homeless.” It was a good question. My wife, Luann, explained to him that invisible walls exist between the homeless and the average person. She said sometimes those of us who have been blessed with much cannot see the needs of those who have little.
She was spot on. And little did I know, she was actually describing me.
Our first stop was under an overpass, just a Peyton Manning touchdown pass away from Lucas Oil Stadium, where I met Ron. He was laying underneath a stack of tarps, covers and blankets. In the 18 degree weather, we took some time to hear his story, we prayed with him and gave him something to eat. Judging from the amount of stuff he had collected around his bed, Ron has been living underneath that bridge for a long time. As many times as I go downtown, I should have noticed that someone was living under that bridge, but I never did. It was like an invisible wall had kept me from noticing him. But on this night, we tore down that wall.
Our next stop was to visit a man named Mark. Mark was living in a tent on a wooden platform in the woods overlooking the White River. Mark was so cold, he just stayed inside the tent and poked his head out the door while laying down in order to talk with us. I knelt down beside him and asked him to tell us his story. He told us how he used to be a manager at Radio Shack as well as a radio station DJ. He explained how he had been disabled by a tragic accident that injured his back severely and that God had used it to “humble him.” As we listened to Mark, I could not believe how intelligent he was. I did not think a homeless person could be so smart. I was wrong. We tore down another invisible wall.
One of our last stops was across the street from The Spaghetti Factory. As Harrison and I began serving plates of hot spaghetti, a short line of homeless men quickly formed behind our vehicle. While we passed out hot chocolate, bottled water, hand warmers to our newest homeless friends, I could not help but notice the plethora of people walking by us on the street that did not even notice what we were doing. It was as if a wall existed that kept people from seeing how hungry these guys really were.
Truthfully, I was the one who walked downtown and never really noticed people in need. I never knew a significant number of men are living in camps along the White River. I never noticed a man named Ron who lived under an overpass so close to where the Colts play. I had been living behind a wall. A wall of my own stereotypes and prejudices, a wall of preoccupation with my own plans as well as a wall of busyness that has kept me from seeing the need of people for what it really is and then doing something about it.
All I know is this. The skyline of Indianapolis has forever changed for me because now, so many walls are down.
