Advent faith found on a top bunk

Last Wednesday, I volunteered at a rescue mission for the homeless.  I discovered a profound dimension to my Advent faith. 

It came after an encounter with Carolyn.  She is 61 years old, weighs barely 75 pounds, uses a walker, and has been recently released from the hospital.  She had no place to sleep.  And the temperature that night was going to plummet to thirty degrees.

She looked at me and said words filled with panic and desperation:  “I can’t sleep outside again tonight.”

I called the Salvation Army shelter.  There was no availability.  I checked for a white flag night, which means they open up the floors to anyone when there is extreme cold.  There was no white flag.  It wasn’t cold enough. 

I looked at this frail, desperate woman and saw no solution.  I gave her a full-length trench coat and a blanket.  That was the best I could do.

The problem felt impossible.  And I felt powerless.

And then a flicker of hope appeared.  The Executive Director had a different contact at the Salvation Army.  He made a call and learned they might have some top bunks at the Salvation Army.  A top bunk wouldn’t be ideal for someone who could barely stand.  But it was something.  A possibility.

I told her the plan. I would shuttle her to the shelter, and she would check to see if they have any top bunks.  She was given hope.  She was immensely grateful.  She was moved to tears.

Later, I transported her and others to the shelter.  As she got off, she clung to that fragile thread of hope:  “They might have a top bunk.”  She repeated this over and over again. 

Once out of the van, she asked another homeless woman, “If it’s a top bunk, will you help me up?” And the woman answered, “Of course.”  Then, after seeing how frail she was, the women added a little commentary, “But honey… You don’t need to be sleeping on no top bunk!”

I don’t know how it all worked out.  But I drove away trusting that God’s goodness moves through people, which gave me hope that Carolyn would not be sleeping on the street that night.

It’s easy to think Advent is a season of neatly wrapped gifts perfectly located under the tree.  The Advent heroes tell a different story.  Mary and Joseph are homeless in Bethlehem.  The shepherds are outcasts sleeping on the cold ground.  And John the Baptist is in prison. 

Advent’s not a time where there is a solution to every problem. Advent’s a time to look for the signs that God is at work even in the messiest and most broken corners of life.

Is Carolyn’s story tidy?  No.  It’s uncertain.  It’s incomplete.  It’s unsettling.

But Advent faith says that even on a cold, dark night, God is on the way.  Even when I see no solution, grace is on the move. 

Advent faith says that even when the world gives only top bunks, God gives people who will lift you up into them.