Meaningless!

So I’ve been in this state of spiritual crapiness for a few weeks now, and I just don’t know how to get out of it. So what’s wrong? Well, I’m not quite sure.

I do know that I’m mad at God for letting me come here. I told Him to stop me if this was not where I was supposed to be, and he didn’t. I feel like I’m not doing any good for anyone here, so what’s the point? I mean, I have no real relationships to speak of in the neighborhood, the homeless men whose feet I work on are largely the same homeless men who last year’s footcare girls worked on as did the clinic personnel before them and before them. So in eight years, what do these men have to show for all our work? Jobs, apartments, mental health, freedom from their addictions? Nope. Not much, except perhaps nicer feet and shorter toenails. (And based on the feet I see, sometimes not even that.) And I am not so egotistical as to think that a year of my presence in a classroom or helping a kid with her homework for an hour a week will make a huge difference over the course of a lifetime for these kids. Let’s face it, they already know more about “the ways of the world” than I do, and will have to live in a world full of all kinds of problems and pressures that I could just shrug off. And I’ll be gone.

The program I’m here with says a good Christian “looks like XYZ.” And, unfortunately, I do not look anything like XYZ. Which, along with my failings at making a difference here coupled with my failings at loving others (my homeless guys, my roommates) makes me feel like a bad Christian. I am lonely, I am depressed, I am mad at God. Do “good Christians” do that? Is there such a thing as a “good Christian?”

And I have never felt the need for God so strongly or felt his silence to be so deafening. Stuff sucks, and no one can do anything about it. Except God. Where is He?

And I miss my family and friends (although I hear from my family on a regular basis, but not so much from my friends) and I need a mentor and I want to go home. I’m ready. Is it spring break yet? Is it August yet?

And now I am pissed off at people. I spent Easter Sunday at CityTeam–the rehab program/homeless shelter at which I volunteer–helping one of my roommates, who coordinated a worship service and big Easter dinner for the homeless there. I spent a great deal of the prep time cutting butter (a thankless and pretty much pointless job) as well as tying balloons on a bench.

As we sat waiting for the service to begin a small older lady (probably in her 70’s) hobbled in with the help of a cane and my friend Jared. She couldn’t walk because both her feet were bent in on themselves, so she ended up “walking” on the outside section of her feet instead of the bottom of them.

As Jared helped her to her seat I saw Jesus in that old woman and thought, “Now there’s Jesus, coming in with a cane, unable to walk. But I’m sure that’s Him.”

She sat down on my row and I began to talk with her. Her name was Betty, and we talked about her and about me and what I do in the clinic, and she was actually interested in my life and my work, which was a welcome change. I was having a great time.

After worship I was charged with helping her get to a seat and get ready for dinner, and things were going swell. I left her to take my assigned job, which was seating people when they came in and keeping a general order near the front door.

And that was when Jesus (in the form of Betty) started to get unreasonable and just plain bitchy. She wanted seconds and was upset that she hadn’t gotten them sooner, but absolutely did not want Jared to serve them to her. When Ruth finally served her some more ham, she complained that it was not enough, that she wanted something more, etc. Things were getting out of hand.

So I dealt with Betty for the rest of the night–getting her thirds and fourths and getting someone to find her Jell-O (which she absolutely MUST HAVE) and making sure she got the kind of dyed eggs she wanted and helping her to the bathroom, finding her change for a cab and then calling her one.

Betty tired me out, but she wasn’t the only unreasonable customer I had to deal with.

One guy came in demanding to know why he couldn’t take plates of food to his friends. When I told him I didn’t know why, that was just the rule, he got mad and demanded to know who was in charge. Luckily, someone in charge was on hand. But I thought he should’ve just appreciated that he got to eat on the premises.

I also ended up in charge of handing out/policing the distribution of either hard-boiled or candy eggs as the homeless people left as well as keeping an eye on the door. One guy came in and got some hard-boiled eggs and then left. When he came back again I allowed him to pick another egg, but after he started getting all greedy with them I told him to please just pick one and then wait outside. He got very angry and just threw the egg he had in his hand back in the container and stormed out. I figured that was the end of the story, which was fine with me.

It, of course, was not.

After all the dinners had been served and we were cleaning up, he came back in and cornered me. He got all in my face, telling me I was rude and needed to be nicer. I summoned all the patience I had (which is never much to begin with) and told him that I was sorry I had hurt his feelings, but he needed to calm down or the guys were going to throw him out.

At which point he continued to tell me that I was rude, again and again and again, and then finally left.

I was furious. Didn’t these people know that we were doing something good for them? Why were they being so selfish? We didn’t have to feed them or try to help them AT ALL, but we were, out of the goodness of our hearts, and all they did was complain. I decided then that I cannot work with the homeless long-term.

Now I must say that some people were really very kind and appreciative of what we did, and thanked us over and over. But I had a hard time remembering their kindness over the image in my mind of the guy yelling at me about my rudeness.

So while my roommates were all glowing with affection at the good thing they had just done by serving the homeless, I ranted and raved silently. (They wouldn’t really let me do it vocally.) Besides, why ruin their feelings of self-satisfaction? They HAD done a good thing. But that didn’t make me any less pissed off at those who didn’t appreciate it or gave me a hard time for trying to do something good.

I must say that today was a better day because I got out of the house and had some random people on the street say nice things to me. (It’s the small things, kids. Sometimes you just gotta take what you can get.) But I still feel the ungratefulness of those people yesterday and marvel at it. And I’m still somewhat pissed off at it. But I guess some people are just jerks, whether they’re homeless or in churches. No way around it.

And I thank God for those nice people on the street today and the fact that I got the opportunity to eat chocolate jalapeno gelato and walk large distances and read a good book, but He still feels really far away. And I still feel like a bad Christian.

Perhaps the only things I will have accomplished this year are a potty mouth, a recognition of my incredibly small tolerance for work with children and the homeless, a feeling of failure at this program and at being a Christian and, thankfully, really nice legs.