The Lessons Not Yet Learned: Mission Denver: When my ignorance smashed into the brick wall of reality

I think a story is worth telling when a group of college kids pile into a crowded SUV for a thirty-hour round-trip to Denver, awake at an ungodly hour to serve breakfast to the homeless, get to know gang members, dive into the inner-city society, and then spend two days homeless themselves — on their Spring break.

It took a lot of self-sacrifice to get my hands dirty and approach an intimidating character that I would prior to this trip label as the “bum” on the street. But the very first time I did it turned out to be one of the biggest breakthroughs of my life. As elementary as my realization was, I saw for the first time that homeless people are people. They have a lot more than just needs. They have big hearts, hearty laughs, and sturdy, philosophical heads on their shoulders. The irony of the week I spent in downtown Denver is that, in my little world, I went to help and bless people; but instead, they helped and blessed me. I thought I would have to step over their lowliness in order to meet them where they were at. But really, they had to break through my ignorance in order to stoop to my level.

But I’m learning that one’s level is a sick figment of the human imagination. I experienced this first hand when I woke up the Friday morning of our stay in Denver only to be turned out of the house we had been sleeping at. It was all part of a simulation so that our group could get a taste of what life was like without a place to call home. However, after two days of trudging the city streets, scavenging for food, asking for money, and searching for shelter, you begin to cross over the line of imitating homelessness to actually feeling homeless.

Only the day before I had been at the Denver Rescue Mission serving people meals, and now I was a member of the massive line of mostly hungry homeless men waiting to get their free noon meal for the day. It must have been the way they herded us through the building, down the stairs to the basement, into narrow hallways and into the stuffy “dining” room that made us feel like cattle. Maybe the frequenters of the facility didn’t feel the same way, but the overlapping emotions of each person in my college group were undeniable.

Back on the streets, I waited until the last possible minute to ask someone for cash. How could I? I had no intention of murdering my pride in cold blood. But when we found ourselves stranded far, far away from the motel we had received vouchers for, I finally made my move.

But for all the beers and cheers being tossed around on St. Patrick’s Day, I mustered up a grand total of $1.50. So we walked.

But beyond the small glimpse I caught of that lifestyle, I began to see people in a new light. Individuals who I would normally have passed by without a second thought suddenly had a spotlight on their face. I approached dozens of homeless people. I asked them to share with me their stories, opinions, and burdens. And they love to talk! It is much easier to commence a conversation with them than it is to end it, God bless them.

The car ride back to college was silent. Each of our minds was far away, pondering and processing the things we learned. I knew right away that the knowledge and revelation I walked away with would change my perspective forever.