Somehow one thing led to another, or rather, God led me from one thing to another; since I myself have no idea how I 'blundered' into it. Within the next few months, from following a Pastor on his street-rounds in PJ Old Town to the heart of Jalan Sultan, I found myself serving up food and some stories of my own to a motley group of people.Con-men/women, yes. Sob-stories - aplenty. Ordinary folks too, who go there for whatever reason. Sinners? For sure; all of us are. They are called 'outcasts', the 'rubbish' of society. How apt; everyone has to walk past 7 (yes, I counted) green Alam Flora rubbish dumpsters to get into the feeding-alleyway. It stinks to high heaven. Yet I would always see a couple of these people rummaging through the filth for whatever collectibles that can be salvaged. And as I walk by, I am always reminded of how blessed I am that I don't have to stick my nose into smelly garbage.
I don't know exactly how long I have been doing this every Saturday, facing a crowd of people who are so far removed from me and my world, 10 years perhaps. I don't know why they still move my heart. In fact after so many Saturdays watching them, listening to their stories, feeding and praying for/over them, they are now sort-of my alternate family. I see all sorts of faces; the familiar, the new, the strange. I can't remember their names. And they don't know mine. Some think I talk too much, they are right. Still I don't care. Or rather I care and that's why I continue talking. Most of them can't be bothered; they have heard our stories over hundreds of Sats already. Because our stories always end up with the same old same old Jesus. It's become such that the place is commonly known in Cantonese as Jesus Street (Yeh So Kai) and every homeless soul knows where to eat Jesus Rice (Yeh So Farn).
It's very easy to get 'immune' after a while. Sometimes after a hard 2 or 3 hours 'work', as I leave the place and plod back to my car, I wonder why I keep on doing it every Sat. It is hard work, and I am not talking about dishing out plates of rice and teh tarik. That's the easiest part actually. It's sitting down eyeball to eyeball with someone totally out of your league, trying to make sense of a life gone wrong, wasted, or just plain unfulfilling that's tough. It's hard trying to encourage and yet not seem self-righteous or judgmental. It's difficult to pray for the chap facing you when he doesn't believe in any or your God. It's an uphill battle talking to a person about a divine Hope, when everything in this earthly life as far as he is concerned seems so hopeless. And it's very humbling to realize there's not a single thing you can do to help him, except pray and pray some more. That's why on the rare occasions when even 1 person 'gets it', and decides to say Yes to a new life, the way God designed it to be, I am totally over the moon.
Maybe it's just my own tiredness that colors my perception that they don't really care or perhaps they don't know how to care. And that gets me angry; I can't understand why they don't care.... that their lives are in a mess, that it's not meant to be that way; that God has so many blessings lined up for those who would get back to His way. I get frustrated that they don't care enough to take that first step to get out of darkness into the Light. Don't they get fed-up, don't they yearn for something more? Some seem very receptive, they nod their heads, it's not that they don't know or don't understand. Yet, I will see them again the next Sat and the next, over umpteen years, still stuck in the same old rut, still nodding their heads and smiling at me.
It's bad enough when there is actually no one who cares about them - that's the fundamental reason they end up on the streets in the first place, quite aside from dysfunctional family histories, substance-addictions, wrong decisions made in life. But do they themselves care? Or are they so far 'gone' that all that interests them is a plate of curry rice, a cup of tea and some bread to take away? So we see the same faces day in day out at every feeding station set up by every NGO in town. Perhaps they have become immune, like I too become immune some days. After years of 'street-conditioning' I guess it's difficult to go back to 'normal' life. What's the point anyway of striving to be 'better' people? Who cares.
Just like it's easier to not believe in God rather than have to contend with tough questions, face our fears, failures and weaknesses, be honest about our sin and pride. We would rather be in control than let God be in control of our lives, because that would call for too much self-sacrifice. Besides God isn't strictly speaking 'necessary' from a humanistic point of view. It's easier to run away and/or stay away from God. Like I said, who cares.... whether there is or isn't a God.
Sometimes I also don't want to care. Because caring hurts. Caring requires love. It's hard to love when people are not bothered. But then I remember even if no one cares, my God still cares. Jesus cared enough to come all the way from heaven to earth to die for each one of us, irrespective of whether we believe or not. And I guess that's what keeps me going Sat after Sat, day after day in a world where many don't care about God. Knowing deep in my heart the truth of an amazing God whose Hand is ever ready to connect with mine every time I reach out in trust, whose heart is all compassion, loving-kindness, grace and mercy, who loves people so much even if they don't care......how can I not care?
This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us - 1 John 3:16
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