Fishes and loaves

Last night Tim, Mark, Christina and I went down to a soup kitchen, Fishes and Loaves, in Minneapolis. Tim and Mark had been down there 3 or 4 times, and Christina had been down there once as well. This was my first time, and I was wondering exactly what it would be like.

It really seemed like many church potlucks I have attended. People stood in line as servers with smiling faces and warm hearts dished out food. We sat at a table with some men from our church--one who attended for the first time on Sunday and had been on the streets as recently as two weeks ago.

I looked around the room as people greeted each other warmly. Everyone was respectful, clean, and even friendly. An older man sat at one end of the hall with his guitar. Perhaps Mark will come and play sometime.

The hour of dining ended quickly, and people began to shuffle out the door. It was a warm night for mid-November, and many seemed grateful for the temperature--even though it was a gray, foggy day. We met Steve and Joan, another couple from our church, who come here every night to meet with people and pray with them. They have helped at least two men in recent weeks--finding them homes. Tim wrote about Dale on his October 21 blog.

We are planning on donating our van to Steve and Joan, so they can have transportation for some of the men on Wednesday nights. On Wednesdays, Steve leads a recovery group, but it is held at a suburban location. With a van, he can easily transport several people.

What impacted me the most about last evening was an encounter we witnessed as we left. As we were chatting with Steve by the door, a man approached him and told his story of how he had just been released from jail. He had seven children, and was feeling desperate and lonely. He did have a couple of male relatives with him. Steve stopped to listen and pray with him. He gave him a card and told him to come back to Fishes and Loaves. He told him about Jesus' love, and the man listened. They hugged, and Steve promised to keep in touch with this man.

At our BSF fellowship lunch yesterday, we were talking about how difficult it can be to share the gospel with friends or family. This man seemed to soak up the words of hope like a sponge. He heard the name of Jesus as a balm to his soul.

No one likes to go through difficulty or see their children struggle through hard times. But it seems that at these times we are most receptive to the power and love of Jesus. I hope that man embraces the truth of the gospel and allows God to turn his life around. I felt like I was witnessing the beginning of a miracle as I saw that man respond. He still walked down the street with his bedroll. But now he has hope in his heart to go along with the food in his stomach. After many exchanges of "God bless you" we were on our way--feeling that God has truly blessed us, above and beyond what we can ever ask or imagine.