Losing That Religion - Part 4

The three of us stood peering over the side of the dumpster looking at the found treasure. Laying on its side on the bottom of the bin was a deconstructed cardboard appliance box. The cardboard was nearly pristine, unmarked, smooth without crease or wrinkle. Donny, who saw the box being put in the bin, lives in the small space between the back of the gas station and an adjoining cinder block wall. Donny knows the owner, and the owner has given him permission to live in the space in exchange for watching over the place at night and sweeping up and keeping the place relatively tidy. Earlier that day, Donny watched as a customer, after getting gas, pulled his truck up next to the bin, and tossed the cardboard into the bin. 

“Pastor Steve, you’re a runner, you’re the only one in good enough shape to climb in and get the box.” I couldn’t argue with Donny and Marc. While Marc had his own tent in “The Cave,” Donny preferred to live alone up top behind the gas station. I never imagined that my runner’s body would be tested in this manner, but before I could talk myself out of it, I climbed inside the dumpster. Fortunately, the dumpster had just been emptied so the box was the only thing in it at the time. I lifted the box to eager hands and managed to climb back out onto solid ground.

Donny smiled at me and said, “This is going to make all the difference in the world.” Marc pulled out a Swiss Army knife and he and Donny were quickly cutting up the sides of the box along the seams as if it were second nature to them. The now-separated panels were divided between them as both Donny and Marc thanked me for my efforts. They both had new beds.

In 2012, Veronika Scott founded the Empowerment Plan, an organization that provides jobs and job training for the homeless living in the Detroit, Michigan area. As a college student, Scott spent a semester designing and creating a puffy coat that could actually transform into a full size sleeping bag. After creating a successful model, Scott broadened her vision of not just providing these coats to the homeless in Detroit, but to hire parents in shelters to help her manufacture the coats. Her vision has proven to be successful and has now evolved into a two-year program of job training, job searching, education, health care, and other services to those living in homeless shelters. The program has proven to be so successful that nearly all of the participants in the two-year intensive are out of the shelters within 90 days.

In 2017, I contacted Ms Scott to inquire about the possibility of obtaining these coats for my local homeless community. At that time, she informed me that the cost of each coat was $100, with every dollar being reinvested in the program. I could not personally cover the $10,000 cost by myself and I also knew I was up against the limitations of a small, storefront outreach church. Great ideas to help the congregation and others are plentiful, but the cost and administration of these ideas are left to the dreamer to make it happen. 

It wasn’t the first time in my life I took the proverbial leap of faith, but it was a bit of a gamble on my part. Ms. Scott had also informed me that she would need about eight weeks of lead time to provide a lot of 100 coats. Even so, with no money pledged yet, I told her, “no problem” and ordered 100 coats to be delivered in early December. 

The head pastor and church board had already turned my proposal down, claiming providing coats and bedding for our cold neighbors was not a church activity?! So I knew I had to get creative–very quickly. I made my appeal on social media and started a GoFundMe to gather the funds needed. I got a bit of a break in that I only had to come up with 10% as a down payment, half after a month and the rest upon delivery. “Piece of cake,” I thought.

I paid the initial $1000 out of my own pocket and soon had donations rolling in from the GoFundMe campaign. Friends, family, and admirers spread the word online and it looked extremely promising as we were able to meet our deadline obligations.

As I tracked the donations for the coat/sleeping bags, I noticed a pattern that caused me to do some reflection. The first two donors started out as running companions and are now very good friends of mine. Not only were they the initial donors but also the most generous. The curious thing I noticed was that both of them knew what I was all about and why I was doing this. One is an avowed atheist and the other an agnostic; both of them profess to be staunch humanists. My religious context did not affect them positively or negatively–they were both thrilled to see human kindness in action.

“This is a rare opportunity for me to see a preacher actually practice what he preaches,” one of my friends told me. I thanked him for his kindness but I also winced at what was implied behind those words. I didn’t tell him that my head pastor did not donate to the fundraiser at all. 

“This is the first time I can say I actually know the guy doing this!”, my other friend exclaimed excitedly. 

“When I think of human kindness, compassion, and generosity, it’s your face I see,” I told him gratefully.

Regardless of religious convictions or lack thereof, I was heartened by the overwhelming generosity I witnessed from both friends and strangers. But as the time approached for the coats to be delivered, an issue I had not expected came up.

RJ, my outreach partner, had spread the word to our small community about the early Christmas gift that was coming. The transforming coats were not a secret and word spread throughout the surrounding pockets of homeless about these coats. People were excited about receiving the coats and attendance at the Wednesday dinners in the park nearly doubled. Attendance at the church’s Sunday morning and Thursday night services also increased.

One Friday morning at one of our coffee and donut get-togethers, RJ gave me something to think about.

“You know, word is spreading like wildfire,” RJ informed me guardedly.

“Great! I’ve got 100 of those coats coming.” I told him triumphantly.

“Uh, I did a rough count and I think there are over 120 people expecting a coat.”

“Oh,” I worried. “Now what?”