The Tom Story.

As I turned right out of the bar parking lot, about 7am Sunday morning, I began to realize there was a homeless man sitting in my passenger seat. This man could be a murder, former prison inmate, or whatever he was—he was a stranger and in my car--just him and me. As I continued driving him to McDonald's to collect goods for his neatly clipped free coffee coupons I quickly began to freak out. There was a man, about mid 40s who I left a bar with to drive to McDonald's for coffee.

Let me back track….first off this, is one of those, should not, will not, could not tell my mom about my morning kind of stories.

I first met Tom in a McDonalds in the middle of nowhere downtown St. Louis. It was early Sunday morning and in my ignorance, obviously I jumped into a car with a few friends to go and pick up this man for church. As we arrived there sat a minimum of 20 homeless people. This was one of, if not my first homeless “sighting”; it was strange, I felt and acted like I was at the zoo. All these people, sipping on free coupon clipped coffee and playing chess. Tom quickly explained he could not come with us to church. Immediately frustration rose and I questioned are you joking me, I got up at 5 something AM to come get this stranger man and he’s not coming. Well, bahaumbug to you sir. I sat there and shoved my face with pancakes with sick hopes that he would become a hungrier homeless man after watching me gorge. As I acted of better, or different- like black or white because I was not homeless, my heart and head began to question a lot of things.

Weeks past and encounters with Tom continued. My heart began to change. Eventually Tom came to church and began to play guitar in the band. Yes, my church had a homeless man playing bass. It was one of those weekends early at the bar that I drove Tom to McDonalds (at this time, not a trusted or familiar face). All fear inside of me arose, this man I once was annoyed with and had formerly judged and entitled myself as better, I was trapped with. Not only trapped- but trapped in the middle of my bursting west county, white girl, driving my parents car, with their gas, and in my nice gap clothes bubble. The bubble burst in that moment. That was the start of some the wrecking and tearing apart of my heart and life.

For the past 2 years I have worked on staff at a church that met in a bar. No we are not liberal, or conservative, debatably ACTS29 followers, and defiantly not Baptist—just simply love Jesus, preach the word and want to love others well. Early Sunday mornings at the bar are always comical and what chaos would be embraced that morning was always a mystery. Often times as I would begin to vacuum the bar, and awaken some man past out from the night before it quickly created for an awkward morning—well, for them at least.

Over the course of my time working at Red Tree I learned a lot of things. These dear friends of mine walked with me from complete boxed up white girl, never been to the city—to spending every dollar to buy something or another for complete strangers whom I now call my friends. Some purchases cat food, others batteries and water. Whatever it was, and whatever happened over the past 2 years has wrecked me. The stories and relationships with people like Tom have brought forth new reality. My small 19 year old mind and worldview has been shattered.

It was in those moments, in that drive with Tom I soon began to realize that homeless did not mean alien or zoo animal, nor was I any better than them or ahead. In many ways I am far behind them, and at an extreme disadvantage. It is in these people who I've met and know they are human- homeless or not, we are all one race, human. It is in these people the gospel has become alive. It is in these people that I see Jesus.