Ox is dead.

This brawny, blond headed young man who I met while he was living at tent city is dead. Last time I talked with him he said that he liked living at tent city because he knew that he could leave his stuff there and others would watch after it. He had community there. Apparently, he got himself off of the streets and into an apartment. As I heard it, week before last, he took his anti-seizure meds after drinking and it killed him. He spent 6 days in his apartment before his body was discovered. Ironically, if he’d still been at tent city people would’ve noticed…somebody would’ve checked on him. I guess there are some things worse than being on the streets – it’s out of community.

Weekend before last, while I was out of town, I dreamed that Raymond died. Another street person, I was so worried about him that I called the church to check on him. Raymond was ok, thank God. Living in community with street people is hard. You open yourself up to having your heart broken. You meet someone that you come to love, and then they’re gone. You don’t have a number or a street address. You hear rumors about what happened to them, but you never know quite for sure. What about Karen? The young woman who was HIV+ and had Hep C? Her bright blue eyes and childlike character brought me joy each Saturday night that I saw her. Years later, I don’t know if she’s alive or dead.

Being in ministry with the poor is tough – not that any ministry is easy. You do have to prepare to have your heart broken. More times than not, things go wrong for these people instead of right. Why do I put myself in this difficult position? It’s because I meet Christ in the midst of it all. Oscar Wilde put it beautifully:

If a friend of mine gave a feast, and did not invite me to it, I should not mind a bit. but if a friend of mine had a sorrow and refused to allow me to share it, I should feel it most bitterly. If he shut the doors of the house of mourning against me, I would move back again and again and beg to be admitted so that I might share in what I was entitled to share. If he thought me unworthy, unfit to weep with him, I should feel it as the most poignant humiliation…he who can look at the loveliness of the world and share its sorrow, and realize something of the wonder of both, is in immediate contact with divine things, and has got as near to God’s secret as anyone can get. De Profundis

In the midst of heartbreak and bearing one another’s pain, we hold on tighter to the One who knows suffering…who carried our burdens all the way to the cross. God’s love for us would go just that far. When I Survey the Wondrous Cross challenges me to remember this truth, and to do something about it…to carry this truth into my living.

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.

See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.