Unexpected

The singular, unifying theme of the mission trip revolved around one word: unexpectedness.  Whether it be the unexpected breaking out in dance at a Newark Bears game or the cordiality shown by the needy as they rush to eat at POTS (Part of the Solution), I’ve learned to expect anything.  This year, my group of twenty fellow Clinton Presbyterian teens served in soup kitchens, food pantries, and worship services; and every site delivered a different, unexpected message.  At St. John’s Bread & Life, a modernized food pantry/kitchen, I and the rest of CPC got an intimate look at what it’s like to be needy.  The stereotypical ‘poor person’ is the uneducated, underachieving, and unmotivated slacker who was born no good.  Drugs and alcohol are also an essential part of the formulaic unfortunate.  Yet, hearing stories at St. John’s from people such as Juan, the college-educated man who fell afoul of a broken home, or Lisa, the disabled do-gooder, conventional opinions go out the window.  Conversation with these people was not only enjoyable, but unexpectedly thought-provoking.  Tuesday found our group at Salt & Sea Mission, where Pastor Debbe Santiago and her lovable band of volunteers redefined faith in the minds of us high schoolers.  Debbe went through all-consuming drug and alcohol addiction, gang participation and homelessness.  She came out of it with a love of God that compels her to yell out his name and weep during prayer.  Deena Wells, a worker at Salt & Sea, is still tending her son’s bed in the hospital a year after a fire that left 80% of his skin burned and her husband dead.  So what do these two, and many of the other workers at Salt & Sea have in common?  An unmovable faith, and love of life.  At CPC, for the most part, we are a group of privileged, sheltered students.  We know no hardships, and we know no limitations.  Yet these people, who have been beaten down by circumstance time after time still pray at the top of their lungs. They tear up at the thought of Jesus.  For people who have undergone such struggles, an unshakeable, compassionate faith is, well, unexpected.  And POTS on Wednesday was another crash course in learning to expect whatever comes your way.  After getting the run down on how this operation worked, I was admittedly skeptical.  The basic idea was that of a restaurant where people would sit down for approximately five minutes, and leave to make room for the next batch of customers.  My mind was reeling: how could people eat so quickly and maintain their manners?  Once again, I was surprised.  Not only were these people efficient, but they were some of the most polite, and humbly dignified people I had ever spoken with.  As a juice girl, my job was to refill pitchers and serve orange juice.  When I came to a table to refill, they would politely thank me and be neatly on their way.  Their manners?  Better than mine.  The worn fabric of a person’s jacket is not indicative of the character of the person, and I find that we forget that too often.  Even the most far-fetched adventures we embarked on during this trip provided pleasant surprises.  On my group ATL in which we would pray to God and follow his direction He spoke to us, divine intervention conspired to put us in the right place at the right time, many times over.  Needless to say, I was skeptical about this activity at first as well.  I can safely say this mission trip has been one large learning experience.  Preconceived notions no longer have a place with me in ministry, and I’ve come to be a more investigative Christian.  Who would think that the woman who lived under a boardwalk for years would have a faith thousands times greater than my own?  The love shown by God on this trip towards the people we served, worked alongside, and ourselves was unimaginable.  And unexpected.