Sent for Me

So I got to Bruin Cafe late to my very first time doing homeless ministry in Westwood. I knew the rest of the crew didn’t mind though. But of course, as God would have it, regardless of tardiness, frustration, and hunger, He had something to show me.

Being a part of homeless ministry was always something I was wary of, simply because I didn’t want to get caught up in feeling prideful because I was helping someone else in need. I never wanted to look at ministry of any kind like I was doing it to assist someone in need. I’ve seen too many people get caught up in that trap. When I act on anything, it should never be because I feel so privileged that I owe something to others. It should simply because God’s given me love. Love for myself, and love for every person on this earth. It’s been something I’ve been waiting for God to show me. I’ve wanted to know if He could really instill a sense of love in me for someone that I didn’t know at all. If He were to move in that way, I’d know that I was called to serve that person in love.

So God decides to meet me right there on Gayley. We all stopped to talk to Lindsay, a Black man who was so incredibly clever and wise that I honestly didn’t know what to do with myself. The first thing he says to us is “You guys Christians?” with a smirk on his face. He knew the drill, and he knew how to switch it up on us. I was glad, because I wasn’t down for just giving food and praying. I immediately identified with him because he was black. This was something 100% from God. I have incredible difficulty with identifying with my ethnicity, but something about him was familiar. He reminded me of one of my uncles, who always has something smart to say. He even reminded me of my dad, describing to us his hope to be an entrepneur and an inventor. It was really the weirdest interaction with a homeless person I’ve ever had. And definitely the best.

A part of me felt like I had a close connection to him because of the familiarity. I felt somewhat uncomfortable with everyone else there, because I was the only black person in the group. It brought BCM to mind and the chasm between BCM and IV. It made me feel like I just wanted to sit alone with him and have a conversation. Just then he talked about how he doesn’t need anyone’s pity, but he could use some big help, prayer, and friends. I listened to him intently and asked a few questions, still feeling uncomfortable because I wanted to talk alone with him. Then he began to ask what we wanted to do with our lives, and he gasped when we all essentially claimed that we didn’t know. We told him how hard it is to choose with the unending possibilities ahead of you. But then he spoke truth into the situation–a situation that I’ve been trying to figure out for the past few months. He told us that it shouldn’t be so hard to “find” a major. How it’s not as if we have to search somewhere, seeing as how if we know who we are, then we have to look no further than ourselves. He didn’t guilt-trip us on how he never had opportunities, so we shouldn’t complain about having too many. He simply told us bluntly what we should already know.

Linsday had so much in common with me, but so much differed from me. I just wanted to talk to him. Learn. Teach. Engage. Nothing about him said homeless. He even had a portable dvd player. I really just want to be his friend. It’s possible that I may never see him again. But if I keep saying that to myself, I probably won’t keep going down to Westwood, hoping to run into him, hoping he might remember my name someday.

The rest of the trip to Westwood was enjoyable, but it’s Lindsay that I know God sent for me. Not the other way around.

Aseem Kelly

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