Thirteen students and four adults walked into Mission Waco last weekend for a Poverty Simulation with all the essential items: new Air Jordan's, iPhones, and Chili Cheese Fritos, among other necessities. Imagine our shock after the opening speech from co-founder, Janet Dorrell, when we were told we could choose four items to keep for the whole weekend. FOUR. I quickly huddled with some of the other leaders and devised a plan involving shared deodorant sticks, water bottles, backpacks, tooth brushes (yes, tooth brushes) and all the other items that we've never dreamed of sharing.
We were then taken to the thrift store where we purchased our weekend uniform: one shirt, one pair of pants, and one pair of shoes (slim pickins left most of us in old school loafers that didn't fit, though some lucky boys landed ballet flats). We were all prepared for a miserable weekend of no sleep on the roots outdoors, exhaustion in the 108 degree Waco weather, and endless complaining from the teenagers we'd dragged along with us. What we weren't prepared for was the invitation to experience life from a whole new perspective--an uncomfortable perspective that would draw our team closer as a family and fix our gaze on the God who's deserving of our unwavering worship and gratitude.
Over the course of the weekend, we spent hours wandering around aimlessly in the sun searching for food. We received what was given to us, whether it was chips for breakfast or cold taquitos from a gas station attendant. We learned about the dire circumstances of those living in poverty around the world as we listened to Jim and Janet Dorrell share stories about their dear friends in India, Haiti, and Mexico. We wrestled mosquitos swarming around us as we tried to sleep, drank out of a communal water hose, and discovered we didn't need our cell phones and iPods after all.
The weekend ended with Church Under the Bridge on Sunday morning, where hundreds of people joined one another in worship underneath I-35 to sing songs and read the Scriptures together. There were homeless people, ex-convicts, and middle class country folk all joining hands across the aisles. Many of us shared tears as we listened to a mentally disabled man singing "Jesus Loves Me" impromptu on stage, as drool ran down the sides of his lips and the band played softly in the background. It was truly a worshipful experience, all of us singing to the Creator who calls us "valuable" simply for who we are, rather than how we look or what we do.
What was most exciting for us leaders were the words we heard out of the mouths of our students during our weekend together. We didn't hear one complaint about the blisters rubbing their feet raw; all we heard were their epiphanies about how much they have to be grateful for. Rather than feeling sorry for themselves, they were constantly empathizing with those who experience poverty on a much greater scale every day of their lives--often caused by the negligence of others. We know that greater awareness means we're more responsible for our choices, but our students are walking into that responsibility with a desire to enter into the suffering of others with empathy and hope.
