{An account of courage on an ICS Field Study trip}

We walked along Mission Street. The dirty, graffitied concrete stared intensely back up at us, making us shift our eyes to the black, boarded up and barred storefronts also colored with layers of grime and graffiti.  It was oddly hot as we stepped onto the street and the past three days of pouring rain still did not clear the stench of urine from the air. People stood or sat along the streets, smoking, vacant, waiting. Even the yellow, red, and blue on the Chinese take-out store was sad, tired, and dim. I walked up to the student in front of the group and asked, “What is God saying to you?”  “I don’t know,” he responded. “We need to go to 17th Street.” 

The intersection of 17th and Mission was an open plaza where several bus stops converged. People sat or stood around the plaza, waiting for the bus, waiting to meet someone, waiting for something. Music came from a two-foot by three-foot speaker hooked to a phone held by what I guessed was a 70-year-old homeless man in a homemade wheelchair - an ancient furniture dolly attached to a chair that looked circa the 1940s. We looked around - find a need, meet a need ringing in our ears.  We had been given $10 as a group and told we had two hours to meet someone, get to know them, and see if there was a need we could meet with the money. With all of those people and so many potential overwhelming needs, who did God have for us and how could $10 be any help?

The student leading our group walked over to the music and we all followed. People were sitting and listening, a few were attempting to dance. Our group walked into the middle of the music and spontaneously started dancing. At first, people looked at us strangely, but then God showed up. People began to stand up and join us. They came off the busses and joined us or stopped for a quick dance before they boarded the bus. We clapped and cheered those dancing and encouraged those on the sidelines to dance.  The music went on and we continued to dance. We found out the homeless man in the homemade wheelchair was a dance instructor from Cuba and he stood up and gave some lessons. We met a man from Guatemala that had a daughter with the same name as a student in our group. He joined in the dance. We met a woman who was widowed two years ago and refused to speak her husband’s name because he was so abusive. She danced with us. A young woman in her 20s took over the music and we continued to dance. We met a Hispanic woman who was on drugs but danced with us. The music went on.  Another man in a wheelchair attempted to stand and dance with us. People were now standing, clapping, singing, and dancing. The joy and freedom that permeated the plaza created a tangible presence and people responded.  

The conversations we had after an hour and 15 minutes of dancing showed that money isn’t necessary to help the homeless.  People kept coming up to us and thanking us for the joy they experienced while dancing. God had brought the walls down and we were all people, regardless of our nationality, ethnicity, skin color, or living situation. The need was that the tired, sad, hot, and angry conditions be replaced with God’s joy. Find a need, meet a need. God wanted to give more than $10.  What He gave was Himself and it was priceless.

Written by Jacqueline Croswhite, HS English, Debate, Social Sciences, and International Program Coordinator