Preaching at the Rescue Mission

A sermon for people rightfully sick of sermons

Photo by Dawn McDonald on Unsplash

I suppose I should begin by stating that I’ve never been asked by a Rescue Mission to preach. And it seems extra unlikely to happen now that… well, you know.

But there was a time when I was encouraged to seek out these opportunities, and I’m confident they would have been granted. When you’re in Bible School/Seminary, you’re learning how to preach, but opportunities to practice in a real setting come rarely. Pastors don’t like to give up their pulpits, especially to a student who might “bomb.” But, good news? I was told often by preaching professors, pastors, and the board that I would sit with once a year to re-up my pastoral credentials that I should reach out to the Rescue Mission—because they need preachers every day, sometimes multiple times a day, and they would take just about anyone.

I never took them up on it. I always had an inkling that something about it was off. I think even then it felt wrong that people had to sit through sermons as part of these programs. It also felt weird that the Rescue Mission was considered the right “practice ground.” Now, of course, I have lots more feelings about it.

Somehow, to them, people experiencing poverty are both in desperate need of the Gospel yet still undeserving of a quality presenter. They will insist that a sermon is necessary before you allow people to eat or sleep, even if that sermon isn’t “good enough yet” for their Sunday morning. It’s logically inconsistent, but that’s because logic isn’t the operative element here—it’s prejudice. Only prejudice could lead to a practice that says you’re not worthy of food unless you hear the gospel, and you’re not worthy of our best preachers.

In this article I wrote for Sojourners a while back, I got to talk with Dr. Dennis Edwards, who has been a pastor, professor, and is now Dean of the seminary at North Park in Chicago. In his early days in ministry, he was asked to preach often in a Rescue Mission. It led him to fall in love with the work and continue ministering to unhoused people as an extensive part of his life’s work—but nonetheless he recognized in those first days that the preaching wasn’t the thing. He described the crowd being disengaged, falling asleep, and clearly just antsy to eat. (There’s another word for that… oh, yes, HUNGRY!) It’s one of the practices he grew to critique and later he would serve at Rescue Missions that changed their practices to not put the sermon before the meal, or who removed it as a requirement altogether.

But ever since those days, I wondered what I would say if I ever did preach at a Rescue Mission. Because I LOVE preaching. It’s one of my favorite things to do. Yet more often than not, I’m preaching about homelessness to audiences who are made up primarily of people who have not experienced it, and my sermon is aimed at challenging them to see things differently.

The short answer is: I don’t know exactly how that sermon would sound. I can guarantee I’d work on it longer than any sermon I’ve ever prepared. But the gist of it would be this:

I don’t presume that everyone here believes in God, or believes the same things about God. But I also would never make the mistake of assuming that because you’re here, you must not be a religious or Christian person. In fact, I would bet that many of you are more deeply spiritual than the people at my church—that you enjoy a closeness with God that is unmatched.

For some reason, I’m up here supposed to be talking to you about God. I’m not entirely sure I understand or even agree with why—just as many of you probably don’t understand or agree with the fact that you have to listen to me. So since we’re all maybe a little bit out of sorts, I’ll just tell you what I believe—about God, about you, about us—and you can do with it whatever you like.

Here’s what I believe:

You are fully seen, accepted, and loved as you are by the most powerful force in the entire universe—and this makes you unconditionally and unchangingly worthy of everything you need, and more than enough to not just get but to enjoy this life.

Our world and even our churches may tell you that you owe them something to prove that you deserve food, shelter, and support—don’t believe them. Even if you choose to do what they ask to eat that day, don’t accept their lie about who you are. The truth about you sits deeply within your soul—guard it, treasure it, nourish it. Surround yourself with people who know it, and when you can’t, cry out to the God that sees no other version of you but that one.

This Bible that has been used to shame you and harm you has far harsher words for the rich, for the uncompassionate, and for the selfish and greedy. In this story, when God came to earth in the form of Jesus, he chose to spend time in places like this and with people like you, and he said that the Kingdom of Heaven was yours.

This whole world, this whole system is so stacked against you—but I believe in a God that chooses sides. And God has from the beginning chosen the side of those who have been crushed, ignored, and kicked to the margins, against the powerful, the elite, and the ignorant. Between the power that resides in each of you because what you’ve survived, endured, and overcome, and the power of God, I don’t believe there’s any force on this earth that can stop you.

I don’t know what brought you to this place today—what combination of accidents, traumas, mistakes, letdowns, breakdowns, or failures, by you or those who you trusted led you to this moment. Whatever it was, and whatever it is, I want you to know that God’s heart breaks for you—not for the reasons you may have been told, as though you have “strayed” so far from God. Nonsense! God has never been closer to you than right now. God’s heart breaks every time yours does; aching with you, hoping with you, enduring with you, and reminding you who you are—who you’ve always been—before the world got their labels on you. You are seen, you are loved, you are worthy.

And most importantly, I would keep it short… because even Jesus knew that sometimes the Gospel isn’t preached with words, but with dinner.

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