Being separated by centuries, thousands of miles, and cultural chasms, it is no surprise that sometimes Jesus’ analogies don’t quite compute. But for me, this week has been new light shed upon an often-quoted verse—
You are the salt of the earth, Matthew 5:13.
It struck me as I was considering the great disparity between what we do weekly at Skid Row and the intense darkness that pervades that area of Los Angeles. Homeless individuals and families gather on the streets for community but steal from one another, drug dealers prey upon the hopeless, prostitutes stand trapped in a life they don’t want to live, police and firemen rush to calls of drug overdoses and violence. So what do we do?
It seems like a feeble response, but in all honesty, we go to give whatever we have. We bring food, candy, clothes, and friendship. Some world-changing tactic, huh?
Last Friday was unusual. The rain caused many to find shelter in surrounding missions. The streets were far emptier than usual. At first we thought, “Can we even do anything here tonight?” But in reality, the situation was ideal. We set out on a course we don’t usually take.
Before long, we came upon an elderly woman sitting in the doorway of the police station. As we gave her a meal, she began asking us to pray for her family, her children and grandchildren that she hadn’t seen in years. Some of her grandkids she had never even gotten to meet. As tears began to stream down her face, an officer came out of the building. All of us were sure he would make us move, as our group of six and the woman we were quite obviously blocking the entrance to the station. But he smiled, stepped through our group, and continued on.
We began to pray, and afterwards, the woman looked back up at us. Something was different. The tears were gone, and she told us an inexpressible joy had come over her. It was something she hadn’t felt in a long time. We asked her if she had a Bible, and she told us that she had many in the past, but they had always been stolen. (This is something we unfortunately hear quite often.) So we gave her a new one, with study notes and a leather cover. She kept reaching for our hands, thanking us, and thanking God. At that moment, I wished there was something more I could do. It felt so wrong to leave her in the doorway of that police station. But I knew we had to go.
It was not until a couple days later that I came back to thinking of the salt of the earth.
Skid Row may be a place covered in darkness, and our small efforts may not appear on the surface to be anywhere near a “solution.” However, I take comfort in the fact that we are making Skid Row a little saltier. We are quite small compared to the social injustices and dysfunctions, but we go bearing salt.
Envision it: a grain of salt is miniscule in comparison to the food you put it on. Still, the salt affects the entire taste. Our goal is not in that we will turn Skid Row into one big grain of salt. Rather, we simply hope and trust that the taste will change when we offer encouragement when there is absolutely none. We can’t fix all the problems of society, but we can love the people.
