PRoP Tales
The following are stories from people who have gone through the PRoP experience.
Ross, 2008
I really got a lot from the night that we talked about receiving gifts from the poor. I normally have a hard time accepting gifts from anyone, let alone a homeless person. It really helped to realize that, by allowing someone to give to me, I’m being blessed and so are they. I enjoy giving, so why deny someone else the pleasure? It was awesome when Nick offered us the rest of his food at the library. I found this verse, “A generous man will himself be blessed, for he shares his food with the poor (Proverbs 22:9),” and our experience with Nick has taught me a lot about it. By accepting Nick’s offer, we were letting him experience the joy of giving, and opening him up to God’s blessing. We got some extra food out of the deal too. It kind of changed my perspective on this verse too. I guess I always assumed that the man sharing his food with the poor was wealthy, but it doesn’t say that. It says hes generous. Nick was by no means wealthy, but he certainly was generous. Even though PROP isn’t a service trip, we are, in a way, serving the people that we meet. By switching roles with them and becoming the receivers, we let them enjoy the blessings of giving, because “it is more blessed to give than to receive (Acts 20:35).”
Jenty, 2006
On a warm day in November 2006, a friend and I spent the day in the city with nothing but ourselves: no money, food, or reading material—just the clothes on our backs. It was humbling to experience the care and generosity of the homeless in Center City: it was these who noticed that we were hungry and shared food and fellowship with us.
Josh, 2006
Be open to humility. Allow God to provide for you through the generosity of others. You don’t always have to give. It’s ok to receive.
Rachel, 2006
I learned a lot about boredom doing Urban Solitude. I wasn’t feeling well, and I didn’t have any energy (nor was I hungry enough) to beg for money, so basically I just sat around all day being bored and hungry and sort of miserable. I had never really thought about that part of being a street person. There’s nothing to do. You don’t have anyone to talk to, you don’t have any reason to get up and do anything, you don’t have anything to go do. You feel poorly, but you don’t have any medicine. There aren’t a whole lot of public restrooms. And it really sucks to be on your period if you don’t have money to buy supplies for that sort of thing. I’d always just thought, you know, it would be okay to be a street person. Okay, yeah, you might get hungry, but there’s always someone giving out food, right? And I’d thought about the humiliation of begging from strangers. But I’d never thought about the boredom. Or having sinus problems, or explosive diarrhea, or epilepsy, or appendicitis. The things we house people take for granted…
Katie, 2006
Just a few days ago, all the other Mission Year teams here spent the day (and some, the night) in downtown Philly (Center City). We’d been having some “Indian summer” days and the day we were downtown was one of them. We were grateful for the weather, but this wasn’t like a normal day. All of us were down there in scruffy, beat-up clothes, with empty stomachs, and without money. We all split up into pairs and walked about the city, encouraged to hang out in ritzy areas, talk to homeless people, and pan-handle or dumpster-dive if we wanted to eat lunch. I decided to spend some time alone, so I hung out in a nice park. There were plenty of people there, dressed up nicely for a Veteran’s Day ceremony, walking with their families, having a nice time. I, however, was not. Before this time alone, I sat with a friend and tried to ask for some spare change, to no avail, and with many disgusted looks thrown in our direction. I’m certainly guilty of responding in this way, so I was getting a taste of my own medicine.
As I sat there on that bench, uncomfortable, dirty, and sad, I caught just a small glimpse of what the life of the unprivileged must be like. I felt hopeless in this land of plenty, and because of this hopelessness, I didn’t even feel the motivation to get up off the bench to try to better my life that day. And this was after only being out there for a few hours! How much more must the actual homeless feel this way? The homeless folks I’ve spoken with since that day confirm this feeling of defeat, and this makes me so sad. Amidst the gratefulness for my positive and supportive family and friends, my heart breaks for the needs of those without. To see the terrible effects broken homes, alcohol, and drugs makes my work here both more and less complex at the same time. More complex in terms of the quantity of need, but less in terms of how I approach loving and serving people. I’m convinced now more than ever that helping people and making their lives better is a result of personal care of a whole person, with that unconditional love that we are shown by Christ on the cross, as well as showing hospitality that can sometimes seem just as difficult!
I’ve seen that the need for Jesus’ love and people to convey that love is great in our community. This past Saturday affirmed this all the more. I know I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m so grateful for this opportunity to be here, serve, and build relationships with people. It’s tough, but I am being sustained by God’s promises and I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else at this point in my life.
Ryan, 2006
Lonely? In a big city? Impossible!
Coming from a small town, I was not used to all the people in Philadelphia. I used to hear stories about people feeling lonely and not having friends in big cities with so many people. I thought that this was impossible. With so many people around how could someone feel lonely?
Well, I started my day with two friends. We spent some time asking for money in a park, and were able to pool together enough money to take Chris and John, two homeless men, to lunch. We went to the $1 menu at McDonalds. After eating and talking for a while, I decided it was time to head out on my own. So, I said my goodbyes and I apologized for the small meal. I did not expect the response I got. “The burger was good and all,” Chris said, “but I really enjoyed the company.”
By the end of the day I knew what Chris meant by really enjoying the company. I spent the rest of my day wandering around by myself, looking for things to do, people to talk to, and food to eat. I felt like I was simply just a part of the city, like the sidewalk or the trashcan and everyone around me just did their own thing. I was lonely in a big city.
Sandy, 2005
I left the center city office with a token to get home. I didn’t have any food on me. I was somewhat excited to see what the day would hold. I walked along near the convention center and just sat on a step. I think I fell asleep for a little bit, but I woke up and I was really cold. I got up and started to just walk around. I was sitting along the side of the road near City Hall with another Mission Year Team Member. We sat down beside a homeless man who asked us for some money. Instead of giving him money (which we had none to give) we gave him some conversation. He began to talk about his life. I cannot remember details about his life, but what I do remember are the countless faces that walked past this man who was talking to us. They did so without a thought in the world given towards him. Most would not look in our direction, and those who did just stared and said nothing. I could not understand why people have just disregarded the destitute and homeless. I still cannot understand it.
As I was sitting next to this man, I began to feel quite angry with everyone walking by on their cell phones. I then moved from anger to sadness quite fast and I almost started crying. No one was even talking to me—it was just a lot of emotions that I felt at the same time. Then, about three pm that afternoon a man was walking up the street with his daughter. He had parked his car a little ways up the road and approached the three of us with some brown bags. He handed one to the man—he said to me do you want one? I said yes. I bet my eyes were wide open with amazement. I opened the bag and inside was a lunch. He had packed a sandwich, juice, apple, and chips, and a few pieces of candy. I was overwhelmed. I do not think I was that hungry—it was more that God had provided. I would not have imagined this to happen and yes, you might be thinking—it was a brown bag with a sandwich in it, but at the time it was a miracle.
(After this day, our mission groups went out several times throughout the city delivering our own brown bags to people we met in need. It was a blessing to be on the receiving end that day I spent in Urban Solitude and it showed me how as Christians we need to be on the giving end even more so—for to give is more blessed than to receive. I have received many blessings in my life and it is time to give.)
But back to the day, I know there are parents who are teaching their children about the poor and the homeless but when I saw it with my own eyes, I was as I said overwhelmed to say the least. I sat there in shock and just let the tears flow. I do not remember what kind of sandwich it was—in fact I think I saved the lunch. I held it in my hand for the rest of the day to just to remind myself that it was provided. I passed it off to someone under the subway. I knew I would eat that night and that I had a home to go home too regardless of how cold or hungry I was in that moment. I had witnessed compassion and after seeing all the bitterness from the privileged I thanked God that people like this father from New Jersey took the time on that Saturday afternoon to teach his daughter and train her as she grows up in this world.
Sarah, 2006
Lifestyles of the poor and homeless?
We Mission Year Philly/Camden folks spent a recent Saturday downtown in Center City. We brought with us no money, just plain/old clothes and a bus token to get home. Our task for the day was to spend it on the streets, and we were encouraged to either go hungry, or panhandle or dumpster-dive for our lunch. I walked around for a while and talked to some folks before settling down on the sidewalk outside the Banana Republic on Broad Street. I placed a cup and a note (“Need Lunch. Bless you.”) in front of myself, and waited. People walked by. I could see them noticing me, and their reactions were easy to anticipate, because I’ve been in their shoes. If I caught someone’s eye, he or she would usually look away with an expression of discomfort. A couple of times I got up the courage to ask, “Can you spare a quarter?” One young woman probably my age reacted exactly as I have many times: feeling her pocket for change, finding none, and walking away without a word.
The only person who stopped to talk to me was a kind Argentine named Alejandro. He wanted to know if I was ok—did I need any help? I told him I was hoping that one of the people passing by would give me some money for lunch. We started chatting in Spanish, and he told me that though he was working handing out flyers for a car wash several blocks north of there, he would be able to get me some food if I walked there with him. Considering the fact that no one else was offering me any help, I took him up on his offer. As we walked, we talked about all sorts of things—he had had a very interesting life, and was now living homeless in Center City. He bought me a slice of pizza and some juice, and we ate together. Then we walked up the Ben Franklin Parkway to a grassy spot where he offered me a spot on his blanket and I napped for a little while. I thanked him profusely when we parted ways, humbled by his generosity. And I asked myself why was a homeless man only person who stopped to speak with me, and later feed and “shelter” me? Then I reminded myself that I worship a homeless man who did and does the same thing.
