“He will look with favor on the prayer of the homeless; he will not despise their plea.”

Psalm 102 hits hard, today. The context is that of the exiled Israelites. The diaspora—the scattering of a people from their country of origin—is in full effect. They are being herded to foreign lands in some cases; in others, they are being held captive in their own country that no longer belongs to them. Psalm 102 is often referenced as a ‘how-to’ on properly complaining to God, mixing in feelings of loss with feelings of hope. While it begins with beautiful opening words, verses three and on are a little rough. For the whole experience, I highly suggest reading it for yourself.

But that’s not what hits hard this morning.

This morning, I think about the homeless in our context. The people on this planet—and not more importantly, but more locally—in this country. After all, God cares for each person equally. These people are a diaspora of their own. While they are ‘citizens’ of these United States, they are not treated equally. In many places, homelessness is a crime punishable by law. In God’s eyes, homelessness is a crime against humanity by humanity, punishable by HIS law. People make excuses to justify the first and obfuscate the second: “They’re there by choice.” “They’re lazy.” “They don’t want to work.”

We’ll do anything to justify something we don’t want to see or hear.

I like to think that I am not blind or deaf to the plight of the homeless. I talk to them, I give alms, I buy food. But is it enough? I feel like it’s barely a Band-Aid for a shotgun wound. Yet I feel convicted by the Holy Spirit for the plight of my neighbor—for the people that Jesus Christ loves just as much as me. Leaving a restaurant with a full belly and seeing someone with a sign that reads, “Anything helps. Hungry,” always turns satiation to sadness. Where is their hope? Where is their roof? Where is their full belly?

Then the question pops into my mind. “Where can I serve?”

I know it is never enough due to the amount of unhoused people in this world. I am also aware of the many responsibilities each of us have to our families and to our occupations/vocations. My hope? That I’ll try just a little harder to be the hands and feet of Christ. That’s where the last line of this psalm gives me strength and courage to be those hands and feet. “The children of your servants shall continue; and their offspring shall stand fast in your sight.” We’re the children. So are they. They’re standing fast in hope and prayer. I hope we’re standing firm in being the voices that answer in the name of God. If we stand in the sight of God, then hopefully that means we will see those around us, too. Because God sees me, I choose to see them. I hope to do better; I hope you do, too. So that all God’s children will find a home and never go hungry again.

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+