Into Unlikely Community
While living in DC, I’ve felt led to spend some time getting to know the locals. Part of this has involved volunteering at a facility that provides critical medical treatment to homeless men. I try to get over there at least once a week to serve dinner, mop the floors, talk with the patients, and pray for their recovery. I also pray that the Lord would dwell within and among them.
It’s during these times that I pay particular attention to “clothe myself with Christ” (Romans 13:14). I try to give the Lord access to my feelings, my words and actions, and even my mannerisms. I want others to see Him, not me. This has yielded some pretty amazing interactions.
Aside from serving meals, I’m also involved in leading patient activities. This keeps things interesting for the patients while they heal and provides opportunities to get to know these men on a more personal level. But while some volunteers have taught things like life skills, art classes, and even poetry, I’ve taken an unconventional approach by engaging the patients in something I’m shamelessly passionate about…
Board games
Yes, board games. I said it. It’s out. There’s nothing I like better to do in my spare time than to spend it with others around a table to roll dice, draft cards, talk smack, and push small wooden bits around on printed pieces of cardboard.
But before you complain to me how long it takes to play Monopoly (believe me, I know), the games I most enjoy aren’t the run-of-the-mill, mass production games you probably grew up playing. You see, in the last decade or so, the world has seen somewhat of a board game renaissance. It’s no longer about rolling the dice and moving that many spaces. Today’s games include engaging themes, beautiful artwork, and clever mechanics. They also require some thinking and strategic decision making. I call board games the “last bastion of good clean fun”. A good game can bring folks together—to talk, to laugh, and to experience something deeply engaging with very little expense or commitment of time.
To make sure I picked the right “starter” game for the group, I reached out to Gabe Barrett. Gabe runs a website and podcast called the Board Game Design Lab. I remembered hearing him talk about using board games in urban ministry and thought I’d ask him for some recommendations. (You can watch an animated version of his story here.) Among his recommendations, Gabe suggested a game called Splendor. It was a great choice because it’s easy to teach and quick to play. After buying a copy at the local game store, I got to work re-familiarizing myself with it enough to teach it.
On the Saturday I was to teach, I swaggered into the shelter’s rec room, pulled the shrink wrap off the box, and began to set it up on a small round table. There was one person who was waiting when I set up the game. His name was Sean. He told me he saw the activity on the calendar and was interested in learning something new. It took me about 15 minutes to explain the rules. After answering his questions, we started to play.
The first game was a little slow, but after the second game it started to “click”. By the third game it got downright cutthroat. But more importantly, during those couple of hours Sean and I started to get to know one another.
I asked him about how his medical treatment was going. I asked him about his family and how he ended up there. He was very soft-spoken but also very friendly and honest. After a while he even started to smile.
Over the next few game days, we would be joined by John (Sean’s roommate) and DeJuan (or ‘Juan for short). So it was Sean, Juan, John, (and Mike) in a four-way competition to sell the most jewels to the greatest number of nobles (or so the game goes). They picked the game up very quickly. I and soon found myself losing more than winning. I also saw a strategy being exploited that I had never seen anyone win with before.
As with Sean, I also got to know the others. I learned that one of them needed medical care after having been shot. Another’s leg was accidentally run over by a bus. After each game day, I would ask them if it was OK if I could pray with them—for their healing and for the Lord who loved them intimately to be known among them. They always appreciated it. As Sean put it, “I can use all the help I can get.”
After getting to know them and some of the other patients, here were two things that really stood out about them.
First was their deep humility for the care that they were getting from this ministry. Having done charitable volunteer work back home in Alabama, I know that there are always some that feel entitled to your help. But I sensed nothing but appreciation from these patients for the treatment they received.
The other thing I noticed was the sense of brotherhood among them. Despite their diverse and difficult backgrounds, they had forged some very close relationships with each other. I suspect this had a lot to do with their regimented routine, close living spaces, limited freedoms, an expectation of self-discipline, and a shared mission (of healing and restoration). Such things tend to force your focus inward toward one another. They’re a “formula” for brotherhood. They reminded me of my own experiences in the military. They also parallel the experience of the intimate community shared among Christ and His disciples.
(The church could learn a lot from these homeless patients.)
The following month, we were at it again. Sean beat Juan and I at another game called Azul. (They liked it, but not as much as Splendor.) After the first game, we took a short break so that I could set up the next one. But during the break, someone got word that an organization down the street had left some leftover pulled-pork and mac and cheese from a potluck. They told me they wanted to go out to the front porch and eat some of it before it was all gone. I told them I’d wait for them.
About 45 minutes later, no one had returned. I looked at my watch and thought they must be having a really good time out there. About the time I thought about packing up the game and heading back to my apartment, Sean came inside the rec room with an enthusiastic air.
“Mike, man, where have you been?”
“Just waiting on you all. Did you have fun?”
Sean looked at me funny, “We’ve been waiting on you to join us! Get out there before the food’s all gone!”
“OK, just let me pack up the game…”
“Nah, don’t worry, we can take care of that later… You need to come out and eat with us!”
Perplexed at Sean’s eagerness (I mean, it was only barbecue), I made my way out to the front porch and sat down among what must have been a dozen patients. But this was no sullen group of medical castaways. They were all talking, smoking, laughing, and finishing up what was left on their plates–completely invading one another’s personal space and loving every minute of it.
Sean invited me to sit down with them and asked me what I’d like to eat. Before I could tell him I wasn’t that hungry, he had already grabbed a plate and started putting food on it for me.
He was serving me.
So, with a pulled-pork sandwich and a glob of mac and cheese on my plate, I sat down and was very quickly absorbed into a mad fury of fellowship. Of course, I was the odd one out. I was the guy fortunate enough to have a job. I had a home. I was one of only two other white people in the group.
But they didn’t care.
These distinctions were the furthest thing from their minds. They just wanted me to be there with them, to share in what they were sharing with one another—food, conversation, and laughter. I can tell you it was one of the most enjoyable and humbling moments I’ve spent in this city so far.
In the middle of it, I recall thinking, “This must have been how Jesus felt” as He spent time laughing and enjoying the company of the marginalized people of His day. Of course, these patients weren’t sinners and tax collectors (though some might call them ragamuffins and vagabonds). Yet the picture was still there: The Christ in me enjoying the rowdy company of those who were closest to His heart–laughing, joking, and experiencing a bond of fellowship that I have been enthusiastically welcomed into.
But, why the special interest in me?
I’m not exactly sure. Maybe I’ve introduced them to a fulfilling hobby that they use to enjoy spending time with one another as they await their recovery. Maybe, they just find me a fun and entertaining person who’s taken an interest in their personal lives. Or maybe (just maybe), they’ve caught a glimpse of Christ in me and they want to experience more of who He is.
Maybe it’s a little bit of all of that.
Photo credit: Kimifly from Boardgamegeek.com