It's in the Bag

On Saturday we did a community clean-up outreach at the Baton Rouge Dream Center. We had a couple dozen adult volunteers and almost 50 junior-highers from Pathfinders. It was a good day: lots of energy, visible results and sunshine the whole time. We sent teams out in four different directions to help some of our neighbors by fixing up their yards.

When I asked where I was supposed to go I was told to continue picking up trash from along the street. Huh.

It’s not that I have anything against trash pick-up; I had been doing it for the past hour while waiting for the teams to arrive. I guess I just thought that I would be going to one of the project houses. As it turns out, I thought wrong. I put on fresh gloves, got a new trash bag and went back to the street.

Trash picking is not a very cerebral exercise so I had plenty of time to think. That can be a dangerous arena for me. I often tell people, “My mind is like a dark alley; I should never go there alone.” So, with my thoughts, my decidedly questionable attitude and my trash bag, I continued down Roselawn Avenue.

I often write stories about the outreaches I attend, and I try to pray that I will tell the story that God wants told. I can usually gather the story from others, but I tend to write better when I’ve experienced it myself. The bottom line about trash pick-up was that I was bummed that I wasn’t going to have a story to write. After all, what is there to say about garbage?

God spoke to my heart and told me to pay attention. I have learned that, if I’m willing to listen, everything has a story to tell.

The trash that lined the streets became very interesting to me. I decided that a lot can be learned about society by what they determine to be useless. And I’ve decided that the definition of trash is, in some cases, community-specific. For example, on Saturday we picked up enough random auto parts to start building a car of our own. In my neighborhood, you just don’t find radial tires or electrical systems lying beside the road. Another thing I noticed is that, in 2 ½ streets, I don’t recall seeing a single coin on the ground. I could probably walk to the end of my subdivision and pick up enough change for the value menu. I guess a dollar in Prairieville is different than a dollar in north Baton Rouge. Interesting.

We picked up paint cans, potato chip bags and broken glass. There were lots of whiskey bottles, but no water bottles. There were junk food wrappers but no sign of actual groceries. I noticed a number of cat food cans, and it reminded me of an article that I had read about cat food being a cheaper source of protein than tuna. I hoped that there really were cats around, although I didn’t see any. We also picked up items that, by any standard, are considered bio-hazards – just more evidence of what goes on in the streets.

We eventually made it all the way around the block. It looked considerably better, but the trash bags really did tell the story. The paint cans told me that somebody cared enough about their house to paint it, but didn’t care enough about their neighbor to throw the cans in the trash. The socket wrench told me that someone cared enough about their car to fix it, but not enough about their tools to put them away. The whiskey bottles and condoms told me that people are trying to fill a void, but the emptiness remains. I fear that it will take more than a few trash bags to cleanse this community.

I had to repent to God for my attitude about picking up trash. Writing this story has called a lot of things into question. What do I consider disposable? What does God consider disposable? Should there be any difference between the two?

Do I consider the soul of a crack-addicted prostitute any less valuable than the soul of my sister? Do I treat them any different? What about the guy that I see pimping that twelve year-old girl? Do I remember that Christ died for him? Do I tell him?

Every time we do outreach we are surrounded by the discards of society; the ones who failed to measure up, the ones measured by their failures. Each one of us gets to decide whether we are willing to look past the filth, past the addictions and brokenness that dictate their lives. We get to decide whether we see trash or treasures.

Jesus answered and said to them, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners, to repentance.”
Luke 5:31-32

The sacrifice that Jesus made on the cross was for everyone. He shed His blood so that sinners, all of us, could come back into right standing with God. He picked us up, broken and bruised, and He made a way for us to find peace and forgiveness. That peace and forgiveness is for all of us…no matter what side of the street He finds us at.

All glory to God!