The man could have been in bed anywhere - but he wasn't - he was rolling over on the sidewalk, slipping deeper into his cardboard covering, trying to find comfort and warmth on the streets of skid row. It rained off and on Sunday- we've had almost no rain this year -and it was cold. Bart was getting ready to flash the bright lights of the van so the line would know we were pulling up- it's been kind of his signal over the past year. Sitting at a red light, in just a matter of seconds, we had the opportunity to watch this man go through the small rituals any of us might go through as we fight for sleep and I wondered how he, or any of the thousands living in homelessness, find rest, in wet clothes with cardboard as their only protection. The light changed, we pulled forward just as he covered his head with the flap of the box. His part in the great American experiment is one lonely piece of the puzzle that most of us ignore as we pull up blankets and readjust our pillows. He's one of the reasons Jackets for Jesus still goes to the streets each week.

McDonald's - amazing how it's become our mid-way shelter over the years. We've made friends with the workers, gotten to know other customers, been held at gunpoint during a robbery, prayed countless prayers together in the parking lot and eaten tens of thousands of french fries- we're thankful for their open doors. Jodi and her team, most have been working since mid-day to prepare the meal, take the time to rest and relax. We all enjoy a few minutes to talk about our weeks and the evening to come and finally, we prepare for the line - Bart and Jodi give out assignments - first timers are filled in on what to expect and what we expect of them - and we take one final deep breath before our dive into whatever the night holds in store. It's good to take a few minutes to prepare and I think the lessons learned together waiting to work have helped me in the rest of my life. Sometimes, in fact most times, before we have a big job to do, it's good to take a break and make sure we're ready for it - then give it to God - and get to work. Our midway stop is more than a hangout - it's an important part in our preparation for a successful evening and I'm thankful for it. I'd like to say it was planned from the start... but like so much of life- most of the lessons learned have come in looking back.

Friendship is one of the best parts of Jackets for Jesus. Over the years, I probably would have given up if poverty didn't wear faces and was part of my circle of friends. That's John and Bill. I've known them both long enough that we've learned quite a bit more about each other. John is in a band - John Luxury and the Ice Giants - check them out online, they're still chasing the dream and have a cool song about Sandra Bullock. Bill is a computer whiz and talks about software and computers in ways that goes over my head in a matter of seconds. They both check the www site occasionally - so hey John, hey Bill! They're people I look forward to talking with and hearing about what's going on in their lives. Occasionally someone with try to offer me "wisdom" by reminding me that we can't really know their stories. I smile and acknowledge the truth in their statement and think about one of the lessons I've learned as a pastor- it's hard to know anyone's real "story." We hear and come to know what people want us to know, it only feels more exaggerated with people we see occasionally, with people who's lives feel like a mystery to us because of their poverty. But generally, we've all got the same story. We want to love and be loved. Friendship, not jackets, not sandwiches or a free dinner, but friendship is what keeps our corner busy on Sunday nights. If you've been feeling a little lonely, you're invited to join us this week. Poverty, whether it's financial or spiritual poverty, feeds on loneliness. Our Sunday evening friendships are like healing moments that help us through the rest of the week. The Good News is that you're invited, your friendship is desired, now, more than ever... for changing lives, Eric