Resurrection from Homelessness

SCRIPTURE TEXT:  John 14:23-29 

Rev. Monte Marshall 

We’re still in the Easter season so we’re still telling resurrection stories.  We’re celebrating all the ways in which resurrection is possible in our lives, moving us from despair to hope, from darkness to light, from death to life.    

This morning we’re telling stories about resurrection from homelessness.  Let’s pray:  God of the empty tomb, roll away the stones that prevent us from beholding your glory.  Unlock our capacity for resurrection.  Accept our intentions to live in your liberating love and empower us with your grace.  We open the doors of our lives to your healing, inspiring and sustaining Spirit, as we pray in the name of the One who is our threshold to new life.  Amen.1 

Glide Memorial United Methodist Church is situated in the notorious Tenderloin District of San Francisco.  According to Cecil Williams, the pastor emeritus of Glide Memorial: “People called the Tenderloin District…’the last circle of hell,’ because no matter how quickly you drove through it, you couldn’t help seeing the poor, the addicted, the sick, the homeless, and the mentally ill, many of them lying if not dying on the streets.”2  It was no place to call home.   

In fact, Cecil’s wife, Janice Mirikitani, once “walked around the Tenderloin asking people, ‘What does home mean to you?’”  These are the responses Janice wrote down on her notepad: 

safety, warmth, meals that are hot, loving, from the hands of mom. 

Community.  love, clean, a haven from the elements like wind and rain and cold. 

Compassion of good parents,  

change, housing that doesn’t regiment time, safety from rip-offs and rape.   

Home: curtains, furnishings that were bright; safe toilets and bathrooms.   

Cook whenever I want, privacy,  

people to talk to that aren’t trying to sell me drugs or rape my body.   

community. 

From these responses, Janice composed a poem:   

community gathers 

warmth 

a safe place 

our world. 

And miracles appear 

in the trees 

we find the way 

like water 

like rain 

enters earth 

grace flows like water 

like music 

harmony 

spirit 

kindness 

grace 

Grace pours  

like compassion, 

like rain. 

Dreams we hold 

in our hearts… 

our dream 

Justice like waterfalls 

tumbles into rivers 

amazing grace 

wakes us 

to the beauty of 

this home.3 

Now it seems to me that we human beings need a place like this to call home.  At its best, home enhances life.  And to the extent that we are home-less, life is diminished—sometimes, even to the point of being a living hell on earth.  

Now I find it fascinating that in the scriptures, even God seems to need a home.  In the Hebrew Bible, God’s home is a tent or a temple.  The New Testament often portrays God’s home as being with people.    

In this morning’s scripture reading, for example, we’re focused on one part of what scholars call the Farewell Discourse from John’s gospel that’s set on the night before Jesus is crucified.   Part of this discourse involves Jesus answering questions from his disciples.  In response to a question from a disciple named Judas (not Judas Iscariot, the betrayer of Jesus, but another Judas), Jesus says: “Those who love me will be true to my word, and Abba God will love them; and we will come to them and make our home with them.”  According to John, God needs a home where love is shared and the word of Jesus is honored—and that home is in us!   

It seems to me that in this story, Jesus is imagining resurrection life!  In fact, in gospel terms, we come fully alive and experience resurrection, when we find our home with the God who has made a home in us.  We finally come alive when we embrace Abba God dwelling with us—Jesus abiding in us—and the Holy Spirit residing within us.  It’s a home in which the teachings of Jesus are remembered.  It’s a home filled with love for God, the neighbor, and for each other.  It’s a home without distress or fear.  It’s a home blessed with God’s peace.    

So here’s the question:  If God needs a home, and God has made a home with us, and if we human beings need a place to call home to live fully and abundantly, then how is it that we still have so many among us who are homeless?  Could it be that we’re not doing enough to provide homes for the homeless, especially those of us with resources enough to share?  And if it’s true that we’re not doing enough, perhaps on this issue, at least, we’re living as if Abba God has been evicted from our lives—as if Jesus has been tossed out on the streets—as if the door has been slammed in the Holy Spirit’s face?  Doesn’t love demand more of us than this?  

Now let me be clear:  I thank God for Corazon Ministries.  Because of CMI, all of us at Travis Park UMC play a role in offering food, and health care, and showers, and clothes, and toiletry items, and opportunities for spiritual growth, and relationships built upon dignity, respect and love.  I thank God that through Deborah’s House, all of us have a role to play in providing a transitional home for women in recovery from addiction.  But as grateful as I am for these ministries of our church, I also realize that there’s more work to be done until every person who wants a place to call home, actually has a place to call home!   

And as this work gets done, I’m convinced that more resurrection stories will be written.  Let me tell you about Bonnie.  Bonnie is a mother, a grandmother, and a veteran.  She is diabetic, blind and an amputee.  After the breakup of her marriage, Bonnie found herself alone, terrified, hopeless and homeless.  She hid away in the deep woods of east Austin.  With her serious health problems, she struggled every day to find food and a safe place to sleep.   

But then, one day, as she was trying to find a meal, Bonnie’s life took a turn.  This is how she tells the story:  “A friend told me that the Mobile Loaves and Fishes Food Truck was parked under the bridge at 12th and Chicon.  It had been raining.  I was hungry and wanted to get to the truck, but my wheel chair got bogged down in the mud.  I had to crawl to the truck.  I was embarrassed, wet and dirty, but they helped me clean up, gave me dry clothes, fed me, and prayed with me.  They treated me with dignity.” 

Because of that encounter, Bonnie now has a home in the Mobile Loaves and Fishes Community First Village in Austin.  The Village is a 27-acre master-planned community designed to provide affordable, sustainable housing in a supportive community for the disabled and the chronically homeless. 

Bonnie is a member of the hospitality team, a tour guide, and a gardener.  She is safe, surrounded by friends, and getting healthier every day.  According to a friend, Bonnie’s “an inspiration.”     

That friend writes: “Before Bonnie met the Mobile Loaves and Fishes volunteer on the truck that day, she couldn’t imagine a way home.  What began with a sandwich and a conversation has evolved into a safe, secure home in a loving, caring community.”4  What’s more, Bonnie is also building a home with the God who has made a home in her. 

Now thankfully, resurrection stories like this are being written all across the country and here in our own community through efforts like Haven for Hope.  But there’s more work to be done because there is still too much homelessness in our midst.       

So let’s do the work and through our labor, proclaim the good news: Christ is risen!  Christ is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!  Whether we are housed or homeless, God has plans for us—plans for light and life and home!  Can our lives be turned around?  Can we find new life when everything feels lifeless?  Can light shine in what feels like an empty tomb?  The answer is YES, YES, YES!  Then our stories—then each story—can be a resurrection story.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.