Far from home

If you’ve ever travelled, you'll know the what its like to spread your wings: the thrill of adventure; the satisfaction of independence. You’ll also know what it’s like – at times – to miss home and all that home entails. As we approach the festive season, the distance is more keenly felt.. 
  
Someone else was far from home for Christmas once. 

His name was Jesus..

Jesus is considered by many as a good man, a good teacher, a prophet, even. Christians believe him as the Son of God himself, which means he always existed in the heavens with God the Father. 

Until Christmas.

‘Will God really dwell on earth with humans?’ Solomon, the wisest man in ancient times, marvelled*. Answer: Yes. And we sing about it now, sometimes at shopping malls: ‘Hail the incarnate Deity’ ‘Pleased as [a] man with man to dwell, Jesus our Immanuel**’. ‘Word of the Father now in flesh appearing’ 

If you’ve ever been to a foreign country and felt out of place, imagine the step (down) Jesus took in coming to earth. Yet you wouldn’t have guessed - he seemed so… natural.

Christmas is significant to Christians for many reasons, one of them being that it shows God as a relational God. Our relationship with him was broken - yet he cared enough to send us not a script, a sign or an app, but his Son to show us the way back. To be the way back, even. It follows, then, that if we are made in the image of God, then we too are relational beings. Could it be that pangs of homesickness are evidence of this?
If you are far from home this year and feeling it, take heart. Jesus was far – incredibly far – from home that first Christmas. 

He left his home so he would never have to leave you.

*2 Chronicles 6:18

**Immanual = 'God with us’

The Helpers and Homeless

1 Dec 2018

Yesterday, a few of us helped serve the homeless at the Many Rooms' weekly kitchen. Prior to this, my only encounters with street sleepers have been, well, on the street (see this post to learn whether they have been positive or not). So I wasn't quite sure what to expect.

The guests drifted in between 530-630pm. Many were regulars, and seemed more comfortable than we.  The food prep was finished, so volunteers could either hang in the kitchen or meet the guests. We were a bit shy. Then I saw one of our group, Fred* talking to a guy in the corner. If he can do it, so can I. But first, I stopped to say hi. Turns out Fred's conversation partner was Dave, another volunteer. I didn't get to talk to strangers, as, soon after, Bob came with his guitar and we started serenading the crowd.

It occurred to me after: I'd thought Dave was homeless. People seeing me talking to Fred and Dave probably thought both of them were homeless (especially as I announced 'I'm going to talk to homeless people - anyone wanna come?'). People who knew Fred (he volunteers regularly) and saw him talking to me probably thought I was homeless (with a violin). One scruffy guy in front of me was arranging the tables and cutlery. He was also explaining the order of events. Despite his dress, I thought he was a volunteer. But I wasn't ever sure.

I surveyed as I played. Without aprons and name tags, one has a hard time distinguishing the helpers from the homeless. Crazy, huh? And offensive? We think our speech, or attire, our mannerisms -  even the way we eat - attest to who we are and to which sector of society we 'belong'. But in a place like Many Rooms, it appears they don't. Its very hard to judge.

Then again, why are we surprised? Aren't we all human? Made of the same stuff - by the same Creator? Don't we all bear his image - whether we're in baggy pants or a business suit?

Geez, I went to help, but might've been mistaken for homeless**! And did the homeless just help me understand something about humanity?

Now that was something I didn't expect.

The helpers... or homeless??

* All names changed 
**I've been mistaken for a Japanese and a shop assistant before, but not homeless!