The cold sidewalk,
The night sky above.
A small candle lit before us, glowing in the stillness where we sit.
Sitting huddled close, to hear one another and share our lives together.
The cup. A simple small plastice cup.
To hold a grand symbol full of meaning.
The juice that bares the symbol of the perfect one's blood,
Drunk here on an empty street in dowtown.
The symbol for the bread is a gluten-free cracker broken apart.
The bread of Christ's body, given to us even as we are there,
Huddled in a group on the empty and incredibly cold sidewalk.
Even in the noise around us....
Cars passing by,
Peope talking as they pass to their next destination
The sound of the Max train,
Life happening in a downtown area.
Still God shows up in the midst of it all.
His loving warmth and compassion.
Hiding in the doorways of this still moving town.
He is there.
He is always there.
It is our job, to show up.
(written after doing outreach for street youth on the streets of downtown Portland, OR)
The night sky above.
A small candle lit before us, glowing in the stillness where we sit.
Sitting huddled close, to hear one another and share our lives together.
The cup. A simple small plastice cup.
To hold a grand symbol full of meaning.
The juice that bares the symbol of the perfect one's blood,
Drunk here on an empty street in dowtown.
The symbol for the bread is a gluten-free cracker broken apart.
The bread of Christ's body, given to us even as we are there,
Huddled in a group on the empty and incredibly cold sidewalk.
Even in the noise around us....
Cars passing by,
Peope talking as they pass to their next destination
The sound of the Max train,
Life happening in a downtown area.
Still God shows up in the midst of it all.
His loving warmth and compassion.
Hiding in the doorways of this still moving town.
He is there.
He is always there.
It is our job, to show up.
(written after doing outreach for street youth on the streets of downtown Portland, OR)