Feeding the Hungry - Project Update

Ministry and Miller Plaza

by Keith Riddle

Burkett Miller was a lawyer, businessman and evidently a bit of a philanthropist. He passed away in 1977 at 87 years old. I wonder how he’d feel today about the park he worked so hard to help build and how it’s used?

For the first time, I went to Nightfall last evening. The park was full of bikers and other Chattanoogans who wanted to see and be seen. But saw standing on the corner was a prophet warning of hell-fire and brimstone for all who failed to repent. He held a large sign, several feet tall, with a list of those needing to get right and come to Jesus, whom his t-shirt proclaimed was in the saving business. I had to laugh when I noticed that topping the list of likely candidates (drug users, homosexuals, rock ‘n’ rollers and once-saved-always-saved Christians) were the most wretched of all – Democrats!!

And this was ministry. This man was out to set right the wrongs done by society and point people to Christ. Personally, I don’t care for his methods. In my estimation he was doing more to harm his cause than further it, more to push people AWAY from Christ than TOWARD Him.

But I went back to Miller Plaza the next morning as part of a One Prayer 2009 outreach. I saw a group of people who wanted to touch lives and BE Christ to their community. About 20 people from The Net joined with folks from Origins in Ringgold and The Spring in Fort Oglethorpe to lay out a spread and feed some of the hungry of Chattanooga. I’d estimate that 50 or so people showed up to love people as Christ instructed us. So we set up our tables and brewed our coffee and spooned up heaping platefuls of breakfast casserole. There were more people there to help than there were jobs to do, so I set off to talk to the homeless sitting in the park. I thought I’d just let them know we had food for them, chat for a minute and move on.

Then I met Max. Max had been caring for his elderly grandmother. When she passed away his family kicked him out of her house. Now Max lives on the street, hangs out at the houses of friends that can stand to have him around until he fears he’s warn out his welcome, and frequents the library. He’s a combat vet from the first time over in the Gulf, and he can’t find work. He was thrown out of Burger King when he dared ask them if they were hiring, and his cell phone is out of minutes, so none of the other jobs he’s applied for could contact him even if they wanted to.

But Max said that he’s learning and growing from the experience, and knows that his situation is a chance to grow as a person, and maybe to help someone else. From talking to him I figure there’s more to his story – there’s normally more to everyone’s story than they actually tell you – but he seemed to have a decent outlook. I hope Max takes care of himself.

I wandered the park, nodding, smiling and greeting anyone who made eye contact, stopping to speak to those who seemed open to a conversation. I went back to the plaza and checked in on the operation up there. I don’t want to be negative or point fingers, but it appeared to me that lots of church folk were busy in conversation with other church folk. The hungry were being fed, but were we actually caring about these people? Did we just shove food at them and feel good about ourselves? Ministry means so many different things, and free food in most definitely a ministry, but did too many stop there? I don’t mean Bible Thumping or preaching – I mean talking, caring, and LISTENING to these people. It means stepping way out of our comfort zones for many of us. But how sad is it to admit that we’re uncomfortable talking to other people? They are dirty. They stink. They have no homes, little clothing or goods, and a few are mentally ill. But they are fundamentally the same as I am. God told us to LOVE them, not PITY them. Show compassion for them, but not in order to make ourselves feel better. I was our first real steps in outreach, and I’m not condemning anyone. I’m thankful for each and every person that came out and spent their morning helping. I only want us to have our eyes open to the HUMANITY that surrounds us.

Humanity like Spanky. I looked across the street and saw a man sitting by himself. I figured it was a wasted trip to walkover there for one guy when the park was pretty well full of people. I kinda angled toward him so I wasn’t making a straight beeline for him. I smiled, said good morning and asked if he’d gotten any breakfast. He said that he hadn’t, but when I offered him some he declined. He was more or less muttering to himself and I couldn’t really understand what he was saying. I was assuming he was mentally ill or drunk and might not be capable of coherent communication. I sat down next to him (I cannot stand to loom over people. I’m short, and don’t loom very well, but hate the feeling of authority and superiority that comes from standing over someone. Just one of my hang-ups….), so I could speak to Spanky for a minute. His rummy eyes weren’t from alcohol or drugs – he was crying. He told me that he was diabetic, epileptic and mostly blind. He told me he was in nearly constant pain. He said he was a Vietnam vet, a mechanic, educated and experienced.

He also told me that he was going to kill himself shortly. He was planning on taking all his medication that night and just walking until he fell over dead. Spanky repeatedly told me that he was tired of the pain, tired of the hurting, and was ready to “call it quits”. We talked for a few minutes. He wouldn’t be dissuaded from his plan to die. There was no drama. There was no plea for help – at least not overt. He said that things would be better after he called it quits. I asked him why he thought that. He replied that he wouldn’t hurt anymore. The pain would end. I pushed just a little, asking him what happened after that, what came next. He replied that he didn’t know, but had been “good”, but quickly changed the subject and resisted any efforts to bring it back up.

To be honest, I wasn’t very dogged. I didn’t want to bash this hurting man with a Bible, but was concerned that this might very well be the last opportunity for him to hear the gospel. Stalling for time I tried to get him to go get a plate of food. He told me that there was no point. He didn’t eat much, was in too much pain, and hinted around just saying that the dead don’t need to eat. Spanky kept telling me how much he hurt and how I just didn’t understand. I didn’t argue with him. I DIDN’T understand – and told him that. But I encouraged him to explain it to me, to talk to me and help me understand. He never could tell me much more than how badly he hurt, how ready he was to call it quits. Stalling again I told him that even a condemned man gets a last meal, and he should eat something. Crowds bothered him, he said, people made him uncomfortable. No problem. I told him that I’d go get him food and bring it over if he’d eat it. He finally told me that he would go get his own food, but couldn’t see well enough to cross the street. So I told him I’d help. I took his hand and crossed the street with him, helped him load a plate of food and find a place in the shade to sit.

What happened next was NOT miraculous. No lights, no doves, no breaking clouds or voice from Heaven. We just sat and talked for about an hour while he pulled out his teeth (they bother him sometimes when he eats) and picked at his food. A couple other people came by and I introduced them all to my new friend Spanky. He told us all about how in a prior life he’d been a speed-demon and raced motorcycles. I had just bought my first motorcycle, so we talked a lot about bikes and riding. He told me about winning races doing 170 mph, and I told him about being scared to do 75 mph. He told me about doing wheelies down the street, and I told him that my wife would KILL me if I tried one. Then he told me he was going to take a nap. He invited me to come out and see him again, to see the city from his eyes, to learn more about life from a guy who’d seen more of it than I had. I asked him if he’d be around for me to learn from.

Spanky told me he’d be around, and then he walked off.