The Story Behind the Story
John Handley

Kids will often tell you what they want to be when they grow up; “I’m going to be a fireman,” or “I’m going to be a doctor.” But I dare say you will never hear a child say that he or she hopes to be a homeless person when they grow up. The reason, of course, is simple: those now living on the streets didn’t plan it that way. Like you and me, they grew up with hopes and dreams, too.   

Just this week The Associated Press reports that one out of four homeless in the United States are veterans. What is more astonishing is that veterans make up only 11 percent of our nation’s adult population. Such statistics reveal what anyone ministering to the street community already knows: that homelessness does not just happen, and the story behind each individual is eye opening.

In order to understand the complexity behind homelessness, you have to first spend time getting to know these individuals, building trust and demonstrating that you really care. Then, slowly, as friendship builds, you begin to hear about their lives—just like you do in any friendship that is built over time. And what you almost always learn breaks the stereotypes about homeless people simply being lazy or unmotivated.

After now spending several years ministering in a homeless-friendly church, I’ve heard many stories. Some admit that they’ve made bad choices. But more often than not, behind those choices are stories of combat scenes where a friend witnessed his buddy killed, or the death of a child or spouse that resulted in an inability to cope. And behind stories like these are often more stories, that is, childhood stories of abuse and abandonment.
 
When somebody shares memories like this, it opens your eyes to another reality and it is easy to become overwhelmed when you recognize their great need. Many will never recover their lives in any of the ways I want them to; many will never find a job or discover a way to return to what I call a normal life. The services we provide to the street community may seem like a drop in the ocean in light of this—especially during the winter when it rains for weeks on end. But a drop in the ocean still matters, and when I have my doubts I open my Bible to Isaiah 58 where I find inspiration to keep going:

Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter— when you see the naked, to clothe him, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood? Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard. Then you will call, and the LORD will answer; you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.

Isaiah reminds me that the poor are my own flesh and blood—simply put, they are my brothers and sisters; when I turn my back on them, I am turning it on myself, too. Of course, Jesus made this point in another way when he told the story of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10:25, raising the question, who really is my neighbor? Secondly, God promises to care for those who care for others. In fact, once your eyes are open to it, you begin to see that the scriptures are filled with references to caring for those less fortunate than yourself, and always this command comes with the promise that God will care for you in return.

Kimberly Hefling, Study: 1 out of 4 Homeless are Veterans, Associated Press, Nov. 8, 2007.