Open My Eyes, That I May See

The words of this hymn by Clara Scott popped into my head just now as I pondered what lessons might be gleaned from the work this past week of the teen missions team from the Episcopal Diocese of Ohio here in Franklin in conjunction with Mustard Seed Missions.  St. John's Episcopal hosted twenty-three teens and six adults who gave a week's worth of hard work in hot and muggy conditions to help people they didn't know.  These teens came here to Franklin because their youth leaders could see value in the experience of being involved as teens with helping the poor and less fortunate.  It was not only useful work for us here, but an educational experience for each of these teens the affects of which will hopefully linger and influence them for years to come.  I know that at least some of this transformative power is at work because several of the teens are repeat volunteers, and I heard expressed by the end of the week a desire on the part of many to return and help out again next year.

So, what are the lessons to be learned?  The first lesson is that poverty isn't limited to third world countries.  Poverty in America certainly pales in comparison to the outright starvation and disease in many places in our world, but when one lifts the cover and pokes into the corners here in our own backyard it is shocking to those who have not witnessed it how much need is right here with us.  The many causes of poverty, from disability to divorce, from pestilence to poor choices and beyond, are not limited to any corner of the globe. 

The second lesson then is that poverty looks like us too.  As Americans, we perhaps can be lulled into a soft sort of racism that begins to view poverty as a problem for "those" people.  What the teens discovered while working on getting the Hope House renovated, (a new homeless shelter being opened here in Franklin where previously there was none) is that many of those who will end up using this temporary housing will be teens not much different than themselves.  That many of these teens have been blessed with stable upbringings would be the primary difference between themselves and the young man that was waiting outside the building on their last work day because he had heard that a shelter was available.  This young man was 18 and could have just as easily been a part of our work crew rather than a person in need of a shelter.  We tend to picture homelessness as old guys with dirty beards and a drinking problem; those on the front lines of trying to help those amongst us in desperate need know that there is no stereotypical homeless person; that tragedy comes in all shapes, sizes, and colors.

The last lesson is that making a difference isn't as far away as it feels.  The tragedy unfolding on the evening news or the latest live feed on the Internet, which is taking place on the other side of the world can give us a sense of inevitable helplessness.  What can I do about such a big problem so far away?  If I don't have any more money to give to an aid agency, what can I do?  Twenty-three teens learned this week that a short car ride from home can be the mission field.  That their effort, even without formal training, can make a difference.  Now that they've returned home, they'll look at the world with new eyes, eyes that see need where once it was overlooked, and eyes that see opportunity where once there was apathy.

"Open my eyes, that I may see glimpses of truth thou hast for me....Open my eyes, illumine me, Spirit divine!"  Imagine if the whole Church opened its eyes, what would we see?