You speak in signs and wonders
I need something other
I would believe if I were able
But I’m waiting on the crumbs
From your table*This morning as I was walking the dog during quite possibly one of the coldest days of the Florida year, I was listening to this song by U2 on my mp3 player (a function newly utilized on my palm pilot). This stanza caught my ear as I walked and
attempted to pray for our new church launching tonight. It caught more than my ear, it caught my heart as I prayed and remembered the poor and the healing needed so much more deeply than a climb on the socio-economic tree. But what grabbed my attention was Bono’s reminder of Jesus’ words (though subtle in his Bono-non-American-Christian-bubble sort of way that has such a tendency to either piss people off or draw them to him) about the Gospel and the Kingdom not being just about what we say, but about so much more. We cannot just get away with talking the talk (
you speak of signs and wonders), though we may try. It may sound good, but those who are hungry need more than that to believe. Don’t we all, when it comes down to it? We don’t really believe the Gospel until we see it, do we? I know I didn’t really believe the Gospel until I saw it being lived out in front of me. God gave me people who met the needs I had to in order to overcome my own barriers to the Gospel. That’s what He longs to give to those who are physically hungry, too. They know that. Why don’t we?
I have read how Bono considers what he does for the poor as being his part of seeing “thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.” Lessons from a Rock Star—lessons from someone whom I believe follows Jesus in a very unique way yet knows he follows Jesus.
A few hours later Priscilla and I and others are unloading supplies from her car as we prepare for the first service of our new church. I take something to the back of the church and when I come back to the front I see a man I don’t know help her carry something in. He introduces himself as Lionel and then sheepishly asks for some money. She gives him a few dollars and he tells us his story. He tells us of his illness, how he can no longer work, of how he used to play the guitar. Then he sings for us of Jesus. The song touches Priscilla deeply, but I can’t seem to shake the words of U2 out of my head.
Meeting Lionel was as if God gave this gift to Priscilla and I as we prepared to serve the church as a reminder of something specific to which God has called this new church. And it makes me thankful that I am in a place where I will not be allowed to forget the countless “Lionel’s” out there—men and women who make us uncomfortable and who need you desperately. It is good for us to be uncomfortable and to be reminded that they aren’t the only ones who need you desperately. We need it, too. We all need something more than our “stories of signs and wonders” and something more than “the crumbs from our tables.” They need their stomachs and hearts filled. They need to see that Jesus loves them through seeing that we love them.
Lionel tells me I need some bass in my voice. I agree. I’m uncomfortable, as I almost always am when first meeting anyone. Yet I feel at peace with where I am, knowing God meant this meeting not only for him but for me. I need to be shaken once again like I have been before. I need to live a life of pouring out. I’ve grown cold and selfish. I hear the ice melting, though.
I sort of expect him to come back in an hour when we’re having services, but he doesn’t. Maybe he’s afraid to come into a church where people are dressed nicely and might be afraid of him, being obviously homeless. Maybe one day he won’t be afraid to come anymore.
I was hungry, and you fed me.
I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink.
And the King will tell them, ‘I assure you, whatever you did for the least of these brothers and sisters, you did it for me.***Crumbs from Your Table, U2
**Matthew 25:35, 40
