A little over three years ago, when I came to our University, I asked the question, “What would it look like if Jesus were a professor in my program? What would be important to Him?”

Of course, the answer comes in many different forms, but in answering that question, my heart has been captured by a group of people I tend to think that Jesus cares a lot about. One hundred seventy residents  live just a block from our campus in a renovated hotel property, and are a group of mostly formerly homeless residents trying to get back on their feet.

This is the beginning of my fourth year accompanying my students down to their property to share health-related workshops. Twice a year we help host a health fair. Today was one of our health fair days.

There’s nothing miraculous about what we do — take blood pressure, counsel on health concerns, walk blind and illiterate residents around to various stations, chat about life. We always end in a workshop. Today’s was on “Feeling Full on Food Stamps,” helping residents to understand the foods that will fill them up nutritiously for the least price per pound.

Over the years, I feel like I’ve learned just as much about people and poverty as they have learned about healthy living. Maybe more.

Studies on poverty confirm what I have learned from these residents. Poverty is not merely economic, but relational. People in poverty describe their state not as a lack of money, but as feeling a lack of respect, a lack of input, and not mattering to anyone. Hopelessness. Futility.

That’s why you can’t just pour money into impoverished areas and expect them to improve. It’s not about money. It’s about mattering.

More important than blood pressure numbers, grocery store prices, and advice on losing weight, we had the opportunity for a few hours today to let our neighbors know that they matter. With every genuine smile, every name remembered, every warm handshake, every shared laugh, we were gently helping each resident out of poverty.

Today mattered.

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A Guest Post by Ken (a.k.a. “the Robot”)

I love working with college students. They are enthusiastic, hardworking and deeply spiritual, but they don’t always follow directions so well.

We were volunteering at the Rescue Mission a few weeks ago and I had to give some of the new volunteers some instruction. The Rescue Mission is a large facility that provides food and shelter for hundreds of homeless men each and every day. The Mission never takes a day off. Never takes a meal off. Not one. 365 days a year. But with that demand comes pressure. Pressure to be efficient and consistent. It’s imperative that volunteers understand their role and learn their responsibilities quickly. No one wants to be the one who holds up the line and keeps hundreds of hungry men waiting for their meal.

This particular night we had a number of new volunteers that I needed to get up to speed. I explained how we would be responsible for wiping down the tables and returning trays to the kitchen after the guests were finished with their meal. It was fairly straight forward and I had explained the process to numerous students before. So despite several uneasy faces, I felt confident that the team would follow instructions and we would have a smooth evening.

Boy, was I mistaken.

Almost immediately, the plan fell by the wayside. Before I knew what was happening, my well prepped students were wandering off on their own. They weren’t wiping down tables. They weren’t returning trays. Instead, they helped themselves to  the tables and chairs.

They just sat down and started striking up conversations. Not with each other, but with the homeless men who had come in for the evening meal.

“Hi there.”

“What’s your name?”

“How was your day?”

I had never seen this before. They weren’t busy doing anything. They were just… being hospitable. They were striking up meaningful conversation with total strangers. And strangers who were different from them in so many ways. Yet they found common ground.

The students who had never been to the Rescue Mission before were able to make these homeless men feel right at… home.

I wasn’t sure what to do. It kinda reminded me of the story of Mary and Martha when Jesus came to visit. I was acting like Martha, the mean sister. Not only were these students playing the part of Mary who realized what was really important, but they also recognized who was playing the part of Jesus in this meal.

Those college students may not have been following my instructions that night, but clearly the message of Jesus had gotten through to them. They understood Jesus when he said “‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’” They realized that he was talking about a night just like this one. And they wanted Jesus to feel right at home.