This week, over a thousand leaders in the Evangelical Covenant Church - pastors, lay leaders, missionaries, non-profit leaders, scholars, administrators, community organizers, and more - are together in Chicago for their annual Midwinter conference.
Some describe it as camp for pastors and leaders. Some say its like a family reunion (one with a massive extended family, full of strong personalities..). Whatever else it is, it's five days of workshops, worship, eating, drinking, meetings, interviews, and networking with a bunch of incredible leaders and ministers who care deeply about God, the Church, and their communities.
There are so many people at this conference who are everyday earth-shakers in their own right. People whose daily work and prayers are bringing hope, grace, and change to many different corners of the country and globe. People who have been trained and invested in by the church, by schools, by their families, by organizations. People who have grand plans, dreams, visions, and strategies to build ministries that connect people with God in so many ways.
That's all wonderful and inspiring, and I'm grateful to be part of that conference and learning from those incredible people, but today I'm going to write about an earth shaker named Gabby.
I've only spent ten, maybe fifteen minutes of my life with Gabby, and there's a good chance that's all I'll ever get. I met her on the L train, riding back from Midway airport to my apartment one snowy night in early December.
I had just spent the weekend in Boston, celebrating at the wedding of a good friend from high school. The wedding was unbelievably beautiful, and I loved getting to spend time with a few friends I hadn't seen in years. They are the kind of friends I can pick up with right where we left off (partly because we're not so great at staying in touch, partly because I'll be forever grateful they helped me survive the traumatic years of life as a teenager, and partly because I just admire and love the kind of people and friends they are).
It was a great weekend, but I was far past my energy and strength reserves as I traveled home from Midway. I was awake enough to dimly notice the magical glitter-snow that fell silently from the sky, but I just wanted to get home and crawl into bed. Finals week was kicking off the next morning with an 8'clock exam in Hebrew, and I wasn't sure I was ready for all that needed to by done over the next few days.
About fifteen minutes from my final L stop, a woman walked onto the train. She was short and stout, wrapped up in a lot of layers. Instead of sitting down, she stood up in the center of the aisle and introduced herself to everyone in the train's car. She spoke a little too loud for me, interrupting my attempts to review my Hebrew flashcards. Her name was Gabby, she had downs syndrome, she was homeless, and she needed $17 more dollars so she could afford to stay in a cheap hotel that night, instead of having to sleep out in the cold.
If you know me well, you know I've cared about the homeless for most of my life. You know that when it comes to my faith, a huge part of living that out means caring for (and advocating for) those who don't have the resources to live in safety or security. You know that I'm interested in working in justice ministries or nonprofits that try to change communities so they are more just and find value in everyone - not just those whose wealth and/or privilege have elevated them to the higher social classes in this country.
You may or may not also know how vast the gap is between the rich and the poor today:
(see scholarly report below):
http://www.oxfam.org/sites/www.oxfam.org/files/bp-working-for-few-political-capture-economic-inequality-200114-en.pdf
(OR see non-scholarly summary of those findings below):
http://www.forbes.com/sites/laurashin/2014/01/23/the-85-richest-people-in-the-world-have-as-much-wealth-as-the-3-5-billion-poorest/
Also, you may or may not know that many of Chicago's (and our nation's) homeless shelters and mental health facilities have been closed thanks to a number of short-sighted, compassion-less a-holes (that's the nicest way I could say that..) who have no problem amping up military & police budgets in the name of "security" while cutting funding to facilities that get the marginalized and sick off the streets and give them the care they need. Apparently, their security and safety don't matter as much as the security and safety of those with resources.
Whew. Anyways. The point is that I know all this information, I know what a crisis has hit my city's homeless and mentally ill folks, and I know how my faith and understanding of God intersects with all this, yet...
I was tired. And stressed. And at the end of my rope. And in that moment, Gabby was a disruption to my self-pitying state of being, and I didn't want to deal with her and the frightening burdens she carried with her. So instead of responding with an ounce of compassion, I looked back down at my stupid flashcards and tried to studiously ignore her.
Thankfully, I wasn't the only one in the train's car. A young man around my age walked up to her, handed her a few dollars, and sheepishly mumbled an apology for not having more cash to give her. A young woman seated near where Gabby stood said she was sorry she didn't have any money on her, but then started talking with her and asking all sorts of questions about herself. Gabby warmed up to her right away, chatting with her til the young woman got to her L stop.
Then there were only a few people left on the L. I was feeling ashamed at how I'd reacted internally to Gabby, and grateful for the two people who'd showed her genuine compassion and love. I felt like the biggest hypocrite and jerk in that moment. And then Gabby came and sat across from me.
She asked me if I was OK. I looked up at her - finally looking her in the eye - and told her I was just tired from traveling and feeling a bit stressed. She had thought I was scared (scared of her? Who knows what reactions she gets from people when she asks them for money.). We kept talking for the rest of the trip, until I reached my L stop. We didn't talk about anything super memorable or life-changing, yet a month and a half later, I still feel how I was impacted by her kindness in the midst of her own suffering and uncertainty. She changed everything in a moment's time, helping me move from a place of exhaustion, stress, and selfishness to a place of gratitude and love.
For all that I've been taught over the years about going into the places of struggle and pain in this world, bringing the hope and love of the gospel to those who are in need, I repeatedly find myself in debt to those who are seen as "less than" in our society. Gabby hasn't had the education, seminary training, traveling experiences, family stability (and on and on) that I've had, yet she knows how to bring love, hope, grace, and reconciliation to a tired, burnt-out young stranger who just happens to be on the same train. Interacting with Gabby for a few minutes cut through all the crap that was stressing me out and holding me hostage to my fatigue and anxiety, freeing me up to remember that God can do incredible work in anyone, anywhere.
Thank you, Gabby, for the powerful act of showing love to a stranger and for the reminder that God does mighty work through those we judge as small and humble. You're amazing.
