View from a Food Closet in Rural America

View from a Food Closet in Rural America

by Sydney Avey I serve at the front lines in the war on poverty.

As a volunteer in a food closet in small town America, I see we are losing ground. Our church serves as the venue and pair of hands for the county’s monthly food bank distribution.

It isn’t that we are running out of food to hand out, it’s that people who have been scraping by are running out of options.

In addition to our regulars, we are starting to see families that have left the homes they lost to foreclosure. They are coming to our underserved mountain community where transportation and jobs are non-existent.

Our number of new applicants is growing as new families pass through or try to establish themselves in our community. Some say that the memory of a peaceful community they once lived in draws them back. Others come because a friend or relation can provide space in a corner of a house or shelter in an RV under the pines.

Some of our new residents come to the Friday food closet with school-age children in tow. When I ask about the children, they say they are homeschooling. I can’t help thinking that it’s unlikely these children will learn what they need to know from parents who are stressed just to put food on the table. It’s not easy to keep up a regimen of selfdirected study if you live in an RV with no power. I worry about this.

Finding common ground The only time I see my poorer neighbors is when I help at the food closet. I sit at a table, greet them as they come through the door and answer their questions. If I put a couple of chairs next to mine and pick up my needlework they will sit down beside me. Working with my hands calms my heart and invites conversation.

Like any group of people, some face their difficulties with courage and a smile. Others wrestle multiple demons that wear them down. What I see is often upsetting—the ravages of addiction and mental illness, the pain of untreated or untreatable physical illness, the idleness of young people who have no hope of employment.

Then there are the industrious folks who touch my heart with their cheerfulness despite their circumstances. Some come into the church kitchen and bake the cookies that we serve to the people who are waiting to go downstairs to get their bags of groceries.

Others sit down at a table and fold the bulletins for a Sunday service they don’t attend.

Still others pick up a broom and sweep acorns off the walk outside so people won’t slip and fall. They do this without being asked.

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I am especially blessed when I get a hug or good advice. One lady who sat down beside me gently suggested that if I held my crochet hook like a pencil I’d have an easier time.

She was right! Another told me a joke about Noah’s ark and termites. She asked if I thought our pastor would be offended if she told him the joke. Far from it—if it’s silly enough he’ll use it in Sunday’s sermon! We are a merry group on food closet Friday, finding much to laugh about. It gives us common ground.

Telling the good news If you are like me, you may be more comfortable handing out bags of groceries than talking to your neighbors about Jesus. I prefer to form a relationship first. After participating in this ministry for over two years, I find that I’m beginning to form those relationships that make sharing the good news feel natural.

I mentioned our upcoming baptism service to a woman I talk with every month and invited her to come.

“I’m a Jew!” she said.

“Well, that doesn’t stop you from becoming a Christian. There are Jewish Christians, Christ was a Jew.” Those words just tumbled out of my mouth. Her response was priceless.

“How did that happen?” she asked, “And how did the Christian religion get started anyway?” That question demanded the straightest possible answer. It wasn’t hard to find the words to tell her God’s plan of salvation.

Sometimes when I’m in town I run into someone I know from the food closet. Often they say, “Oh, I keep meaning to come to your church.” The fact is, very few visit our church services. The exception is the people who have volunteered to work alongside us. They get to know us and feel accepted and then they feel more comfortable coming to church.

The great divide When I think about where the dividing line falls between hope and hopelessness I can’t honestly say that it is physical or mental illness or addiction or even homelessness that determines attitude. The dividing line seems to be a thankful heart. Despite the pain of their circumstances some people are thankful and they say so. They are willing to lend a hand or offer a kind word. They have the peace of Christ that passes all understanding.

Then there are those that can’t see beyond the petty meanness of their neighbors. My heart broke for a young woman who is tormented by fear and despair. Food for her body is not enough. She needs the grace and mercy of Jesus to combat her legacy of homelessness and mental illness. Wishing harm on her tormentors, real or imagined, won’t bring her peace. Surprisingly, she seems to understand that peace, not money, is her real need.

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As I prayed with her, God brought the word confession to my lips. It surprised me when she responded with a need to confess a pattern of behavior that wasn’t helping her situation. The door of her heart opened a tiny crack and a small ray of light flashed for a second. Evidently she held enough Sunday school teaching in her heart to understand the words the Holy Spirit gave me.

I have a confession of my own to make. Every month I grumble at God about the half day I spend at the food closet. I know I will feel overwhelmed. I know I will come home exhausted. I forget how privileged I am to be in a position to pray for people’s needs and watch the Holy Spirit minister, to work alongside the servant-hearted and be encouraged, to sit at Jesus feet and learn from Him. The food closet ministry is His classroom.

God levels the field I am closer to the 1 percent that Charles Murray describes in his essay “The New American Divide” than I am to the people I serve. Sitting down with people who are displaced by any number of circumstances is a good way for the one percent to engage with what Murray refers to as “the rest of America.” Conversely, those who struggle to rise above their circumstances make a good choice when they show up in a place where help is available, such as a congregation or a community that has jobs. Addressing the cultural inequality Murray describes requires both sides to break their isolation and come together for the good of all.

There are nearly 100 verses in the Bible that speak to God’s provision for the poor. God tells us that there will always be poor in our land and that we must be openhanded with them (Deuteronomy 15:11). To do that, we need to go where they are. Their part is to acknowledge that God is their help and their deliverer (Psalm 40:17). They must be willing to glean their hope in fields God provides (Leviticus 23:22).

The rich and the poor alike share the responsibility for the burden of poverty. 1 John 3:18 tells us to love not with words or tongue but with actions and in truth. Exodus 30:15 teaches that the rich are not to give more than a half shekel and the poor are not to give less when making the offering to the Lord to atone for their lives. This is not a polemic on tax rates, it’s leveling of the playing field before God. Five things to do if you are rich 1. Go where the people are who need help. Volunteer in a food distribution program, a senior center, a school or a hospital.

2. Be approachable. Look for common ground that will close the distance between you and your poorer neighbor.

3. Be inclusive. Many people feel better about receiving help if they are allowed to participate in the process. Let the people you help join you in helping others.

4. Allow God to touch your heart. It’s okay to feel a tangle of emotions over the veteran with PTSD or the disabled infant daughter of rail thin, meth-addicted teenage parents. You can’t fix their lives but you can meet them where they are and pray for their

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individual needs.

5. Count the blessings. I Thank God for the young girl who has completed her ECE certificate and come to me for the phone number of the director of a summer camp program. I praise God for the woman who drops off bags of cat and dog food every month so people can feed their pets. Pets are therapy.

Four things to do if you are poor 1. Go where the people are who can help. Take advantage of every legitimate program that will help you rise above your circumstances.

2. Offer to give what you have. That may be time or talent. A man who comes to our food closet is an artist. He paints sets for our Vacation Bible School.

3. Be part of the solution. We get all kinds of suggestions about what more we could do. Partner with us. If I offer to teach simple cooking classes, your neighbors won’t come. They don’t know me. If you offer to demonstrate how to assemble low cost, tasty meals to the people you know, I can give you access to the kitchen at the church or senior center and together we’ll get it done.

4. Count the blessings. The people who come through our door are often better than I am at recognizing a blessing and thanking God, even those that don’t know Him. Talking about God’s blessings brings a smile to a sad face.

Sydney Avey is a deacon at the Groveland Evangelical Free Church and serves on the board of directors for The Little House, a community gathering place in Groveland, Calif.

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