A Scholar's Parrot May Talk Greek

I attended a big province-wide youth convention (known to most as YC) a few years back. The main thing I remember about this particular YC is not the flashy lighting or the  popular musical guests, but rather a simple story that a guy named Mike Yankoski shared with us. He, along with his friend Sam, intentionally lived as homeless men for a period of time on the streets of six different American cities. He even wrote a book about it. Anyway, he told us that several weeks into their "experiment" they found themselves in Phoenix, Arizona. One night they were sleeping next to the sanctuary of a large, beautiful church. The next day was Saturday, and the pair were awakened by the unmistakable scent of breakfast. (Yes, breakfast is a scent. This was a few years ago - I can't remember exactly what was cooking).  Of course the scent alone encouraged the onset of intense hunger pangs. By this point the two had been living on the streets long enough to have acquired a fair amount of grease, grime, dirt, and even a few scents of their own. Before they knew it two men from the church approached them and told them sternly: "You need to leave." The men then proceeded to enter the church.

Mike and Sam were hungry. They wanted in on the food. They didn't leave.

Not many minutes later the same two men emerged from the sanctuary and were shocked to find that Mike and Sam had not complied. One of the men said: "what's the deal guys? I told you that you needed to leave and you haven't moved." Mike spoke up and said: "Yes sir, I realize that. We don't understand why, though." The same man piped up, clearly frustrated: "These are church grounds! Church grounds aren't for this. We have people coming soon and you need to leave!" The two men stormed away, and Mike and Sam left.

In fairness to the man who kicked up such a stink over two lowly homeless guys loitering on his beloved church's property, the next day when Mike and Sam returned to the same church for the morning service, he did apologize and acknowledge his mistake.

 I guess the main question I have when I hear stories like this is: what is the purpose of the church if it isn't to love and help others?

I'm guilty too. In fact, an incident from my pre-teen years sticks out pretty well in my mind. A man who was well-known in my community for being regularly strung out on drugs and a bit unpredictable showed up to church one day. I was always afraid of him. He came in, plopped down in a pew by himself wearing dirty, torn up clothes and no boots. He just sat there and before I knew it his socked feet were resting up on the pew in front of him. I have to be real, nothing else that was said or done in that church service mattered to me. I was focused on him, awestruck at his audacity, and watching intently to see who would deal with the situation and how they would deal with it. I don't think anybody kicked him out or anything which is slightly surprising giving that some of the people from my church were very staunchly traditional. I wish I could remember if anybody made an effort to connect with him or not but I really don't. Thinking of it now, though, I wonder what's more important: to rid the uncomfortable congregation of the pink elephant in the room, or to take steps to make this man who for some reason made his way to a place he'd never been feel loved and accepted? I don't have to wonder for long. I know the answer.

Okay. So the story that Mike Yankoski shared is not the only memorable moment I have had at a YC. I'm not sure if this happened in the same year or not, but there was a point in one of the years I attended when the focus really shifted from "us" to "them." It was not about "God bless me with this gift," or "let's just get as close to the band as possible and jump around and have fun." It was an instance where a stadium full of young teenagers to young adults began to sacrifice the money they had been keeping to go to McDonalds after the concert, or money that would inevitably have been spent at "San Francisco" on green hair dye or bells, whistles and other noisy things that would make them stand out amongst the crowd. The moment was pure, and it was right, and it was holy. It was a moment of connection. Not simply because it was emotional - but because hordes of people gave something of themselves in an act of love. In fact, enough was given to build a village for orphans in Malawi. It was named the "Village of Hope." When things like that happen, I really do have faith that there is also hope for the church.

That same year I believe there were a LOT of children matched up with sponsors through Compassion Canada as well. Whatever that year was, it was my favourite.

I suppose the people who believe that Jesus is an actual historical figure who walked on Earth have varying opinions of who He was and what He stood for. It is my own personal belief that He was the ultimate humanitarian. It probably wasn't His intention for churches to spend copious amounts of money on fancy sound systems, state of the art this and top-of-the-line that and then send out a couple of grocery hampers using whatever money is left.

As a culture, we're pretty selfish. It's that: "look out for yourself because nobody else is going to" attitude. Donald Miller talks about this selfish aspect that exists within us in his book, and refers to a poem by C.S. Lewis, which is actually more of a brave admission:

All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.

I never had a selfless thought since I was born.

I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through;

I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.

Peace, reassurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,

I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin;

I talk of love-- a scholar's parrot may talk Greek--

But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.

I think most humans, at least in part, are selfish. It's part of the human condition. But if we believe in what we say we believe in and don't take strides to combat this disease -- we have failed.

Faith without deeds is dead.

*************************************************