Love for the Ungrateful

So, one of the requirements as a student at Moody is attending a Practical Christian Ministry (PCM) once a week. You are only allowed one cut, with no make-ups required. If you cut again because of illness, you have to complete two make-ups. If you cut a second time for a reason other than sickness, you have to complete SEVEN make-ups. Moral of the story is: Don’t cut your PCM!

Anyway, choices for a PCM vary. You can tutor kids, work with the homeless, work with a youth group, serve at a church, the list continues. After your freshman year, you are even allowed to request your own PCM. My friend Katie and I are thinking about setting one up with a hospital where we can go spend time with terminally ill children. Anyway, when you are a freshman, the PCM office places you in your first PCM—you don’t get to choose. When I was told my PCM would be serving at a homeless shelter, I was ecstatic. I thought it would be awesome to minister to the homeless. It was exactly what I thought I would love. Boy, was I wrong.

To make a long story short, I basically show up at this homeless shelter, serve food, do dishes, sweep, mop, clean tables, and leave. The people that run the place—cooks, regular volunteers, employees, etc…are not very happy people, it seems. They are not mean, but they just don’t seem like the type of person that would serve at a soup kitchen. They don’t seem to have the volunteer’s heart. Also, the place just reeks. It smells like vomit mixed with rotten eggs or something. Fortunately, it only smells like that in the “dishes” room, and I haven’t been doing the dishes lately. Many of you know how sensitive I am to certain smells, though…how they make me gag uncontrollably and what not. Oh, and just a few weeks ago, as I was putting on my apron, what falls out of the pocket onto my clothes? A COCKROACH. I muted my disgust and initial urge to scream. I was mortified. I carefully checked the other pockets, but no roaches were to be found. Luckily. I check every week now. So, that gives you a slice of what this place is like. After my first two weeks, I had a terrible attitude. I dreaded going (I still don’t really look forward to going). So, I began to pray that God would change my heart for these people. I prayed that he would help me see their needs and just be able to serve them selflessly, no matter the circumstances. The more I prayed for God to change my heart, the more I felt like I needed to serve at the shelter.

Most of the families consist of a mother who is too young to have five kids, a father who doesn’t give a rip about his family, and kids who have no concept of what a family or what real love is. Many of the families are also single mothers, younger than me sometimes, with two to five kids. I’m guessing they probably all have different “baby daddies.” My heart breaks for these people. That is what kept me going back at first (that and the fact that I can’t change my PCM until next semester).

So, as I have dwelt on the bad attitudes of the regular workers, I began to realize that maybe their attitudes stem from the ungrateful people they serve every day. I mean, you would think the homeless people who come through the shelter are the richest, snobbiest people in the world. They act like the world is theirs; they act like they own the shelter; they act like nothing matters but them; they treat us like dirt. I was shocked. They have no right to treat me like that, when I am volunteering my time to come serve them every week! That is how I felt, initially. Seriously, these kids run around like they own the place; they throw all of their food and dishes on the floor. They scream; they demand more dessert; they demand tin foil and cups of ice and plastic bags. (I would like to say, there are some extremely grateful men and women there who thank us every week, and treat us with respect. I respect them greatly in return.) I would never hit a child, but more often than not, I just want to smack these kids and tell them to be more polite and thoughtful; however, they are not to blame for their behavior. But really, the cafeteria, after dinner is served, looks like all of the trays were piled with food, and then a tornado came through—leaving a mess of chili and rice, fruit and veggies, spilt milk, and plastic cups strewn all over the floor, tables, and chairs. The people don’t clean up after their kids or themselves. I loathe their ungratefulness.

I usually come out to wipe down the tables and sweep and mop the floor before many of them leave. As I walk around, taking my time so that I don’t have to do the dishes (hehe), sweeping torn Styrofoam cups, mounds of chili, fruit and cookies into the portable trash bin, thing (That was profound) they continue to scream profanely at each other, dropping more food on the ground—completely disregarding my attempts to clean their messes. Every time we make eye contact, I try my best to smile, but many times I found it terribly difficult.

Anyway, this is getting long, so I will cut to the chase. Last week, I was feeling nauseous and only wanted to get back to campus. I was moving slowly because of my upset stomach, and I was listening to a young husband getting all wound up about his wife who was upset about a sugar bowl or something. I never really got the gist of the story, but I do know that he was completely overreacting. I listened to him rant for about a half hour while I swept. I thought I was going to explode. However, I kept sweeping, taking deep breaths—attempting to prevent any vomit from coming up to say hello. I succeeded! ☺ While I walked down the aisles, moving chairs, and sweeping under tables, meditating on the peoples’ ungratefulness, I had an epiphany! I immediately felt disgust for my bad attitude, and my ill feelings for the homeless peoples’ attitudes.

What I realized is that the way these people treat me and the other volunteers and workers, while we are only there to serve them and provide them with food—essential to live—is basically the equivalent to how God is treated every day by his children. God provides us every single day and night, with what we need and more. He blesses us more than we know, every day. And what do I give him in return? Many times it’s, “Oh, I need to spend some time with God…but I also need to have this paper done by tomorrow morning…gosh I really shouldn’t have spent an hour on facebook and whatnot just now…hmm, well, I mean, my grades depend on this paper….so, I guess, ‘God, I promise I’ll set aside extra time for you tomorrow.’” Really, Kelly? I am really going to complain about these people, when I treat God so much worse? I serve these people because I have to, and because I care about a few of them. God provides me with what I need because of his unfathomable love for me. I have no right to claim his love for me. I have no right for him to call me his own. Yet, he does. I frequently compromise my time with him, but he continues to draw me back to himself and prove his love for me. He continually takes me back into his arms. And I continually fight my way out of his embrace, when in reality, his embrace is all I need.

So, where do I get off complaining about others’ ungratefulness for my service, when I ignore God's provision for me? It is my duty to serve others, just as Christ served us and paid our way to freedom. Whether people appreciate my service or not, I have to complete my work with a servant’s heart and a smile. God never denies us what we need. He is faithful. Sometimes, these people really hurt me, because of the way they look at me, when I am only trying to help them. How much more am I hurting my God? My God who sacrificed his ONLY son for me. My God who for some unknown reason, cares for and loves me like his own child. In fact, I am just that. I am his child. I hurt him and break his heart every day. And that, my friends, breaks my heart.

And so, just as he continues to love me, despite my ungratefulness, I am going to make a conscious effort to serve the homeless people out of selfless love. I want to serve them whether they appreciate it or not. Besides, you never know who is observing you, and I don’t want any of them to see a scowl on my face just because I am cleaning up their mess. I am there to serve them, under any circumstances. That is what I am called to do. That is what I am going to do. I love them despite their attitudes. When my dad would ask me to go do something for him, whether I would complain or not, he would say, "Kel, you have such a servant's heart." If I was complaining, he was being sarcastic--trying to make me laugh. If I completed my task cheerfully, he was being serious. I want to work cheerfully. I want to have a true servant's heart. And my heart is changed now. God answered my prayer, and at the same time he opened my eyes to the way I treat him. God, I am striving to serve you with a smile and good heart. I love my God, my faithful God.