Food — Joe's Addiction

Many believe hunger is a ‘developing world’ issue. Hunger, however, is everywhere and affects many more people in your backyard than you might expect. Food insecurity goes far beyond just the homeless and soup kitchen lines. It now affects millions who were until recently living in the comfortable middle class. One study (Food and Research Action Center FRAC) unearthed that nearly 1 out of 4 of households with children in America reported an inability to purchase enough food.

Our food situation is pretty extreme for our children. 16 million live in these food-insecure households. Hunger typically brings images of famine in Africa, not food insecurity. But one in seven USA households can not afford dinner tonight. These children who live with food insecurity and hunger are most likely to have:

Behavioral issues
Lower school grades
Need frequent hospitalization
Increase risk of chronic illness

Food Desert

Joe’s Addiction is smack dab in the middle of a food desert. It is a four-mile walk round trip to any grocery store. Most people in our neighborhood do not have a car, so imagine having to haul a gallon of milk and everything else you need to buy to feed a family two miles! Most end up buying their food at the local convenience store where prices are two to three times higher. Not only are they starting out with less money, but their money also does not go as far.

In this world, Joe’s Addiction every day gathers the hungry from the neighborhood and the campsites in the woods nearby and feeds them. One of Jamie’s greatest joys is feeding hungry people. There is something magical about the community gathered together to eat their daily bread.

The poverty people experience is often created by some temporary situation. Most in our community live a payday away from making an impossible decision between medication, electricity or gas, and food. The birth of a child, death of a family member, sudden reduction in wages or job loss, a natural disaster, or the regular breakdown of a vehicle can push a family over the financial edge.

The food crisis for the poor is not getting better. The government is reducing monthly allowances for food and the schools are cutting back on feeding the kids, so into this gap we find ourselves feeding a lot of people. Thanksgiving is kind of our national celebration of abundance. Here at Joe’s, it takes on a special significance in the life of the community.

Thanksgiving

A Sunday in November, one of our ladies raises her hand in church and asks if we will be having the annual Thanksgiving dinner, and what are the details? She says, “People have been asking.” It is time to be honest. I have been sitting on this situation for a few weeks now. Sometimes when I don’t know what to do, I become paralyzed. I guess this is why I have not said anything yet but now I am forced to make the announcement: “Well, I just don’t know what God wants us to do.”

For three years, we had hosted a Thanksgiving Dinner serving the neighborhood around Joe’s Addiction. A large church in Oklahoma City had given this event to us. The first year, people from this church brought food and fed about a hundred people.

The next year, our own people came to me and said, “We don’t want to just be on the receiving end. We want to bless the community.” So we invited the neighborhood. We dreamed up a menu. The people from the large church cooked the food at a country club and brought it, but our own Joe’s Addiction folks dressed in white shirts and neckties (scavenged from the Free Store) served as hosts and waiters, asking “How many in your party?” to each group arriving to enjoy the meal, bringing plates, filling drinks, and delivering pumpkin pie.

The year before this November, we had done the same and served over 400 people from the surrounding neighborhood. That was 22 turkeys, 30 pies, a mountain of stuffing and potatoes, an ocean of gravy. It took 20 outside volunteers to pull it off. This is what the neighborhood has come to expect.

Not business as Usual

But about a month before this Thanksgiving, I receive a phone call from the people who helped with this event in the past. They won’t be able to do it this year. That means the outside resources are not available. There is no way we can feed 400 hundred people by ourselves. It is just impossible.

Standing on the stage, I tell them, “We don’t have the people coming to help us. We don’t have the connections to the chef and the location where the food was cooked, and we don’t have the money to do it.” They all just look back at me. I am supposed to have the answers. Not this time—and the day for the dinner is only two weeks away.

I say, “Okay, how about we all just pray about this situation over the next few days.” (To be honest, I was stalling.) I suggest maybe The Muse will show us what we are to do. Maybe we are to plan something smaller-like our regular community dinner-just for us in the Joe’s Community. “I really don’t know,” I say, “but let’s ask together what God has in mind.” I tell them if Spirit shows them anything to let me know.

Then I promptly go out of town—for the whole next week.

The show Must go on

While I am gone, I receive a text from Foster that he has called the country club chef. The chef is willing to help with the cooking if we can pull all the food together and find him some helpers.

When I arrive at church, as usual, I am swarmed with people greeting and hugging me. Then the lady who raised her hand the week before pulls me aside. She says, “I need to talk to you.” Now, this woman is tough—I mean tough—but her eyes are full of tears. I feel concerned.

She says, “Last week you told us to pray about the Thanksgiving Dinner and so I did. Every time I prayed about it Phillip’s name came to my mind. So I talked to Phillip.” (Phillip is new in our community.) She says, “I sat down with him and told him all about the Thanksgiving Dinner and our situation. He said, ‘I know just what to do.’”

She takes me to Phillip and he says, “Oh yeah. I’ve been working on it. I called KFC and they’ve donated cups and plates and flatware. I called Crest and they have given us $100 in vouchers. I also have some turkeys donated already. I know how to cook and I’m sure we can round up more people who can help.”

She grabs my arm and says, “It works! It works!”

The service is starting and other people come to hug me and give me reports of how they are doing—things God is doing in their lives—another, and then another. “I got a job.” “I got accepted into school.” “I started the GED class yesterday.” The music pounds from the stage, “I Will Wait, I Will Wait for you!” and the crowd claps in rhythm. There is a new guy I don’t know, tears rolling down his cheeks. Pressure is building in my chest.

We the people

Following the break (for snacks, coffee refills, and cigarettes for those who can’t make it through the service without one), I stand to make the announcements and facilitate our Prouds and Sorries. I begin by telling them it looks like we will have the Thanksgiving Dinner after all, but we aren’t yet sure how big we can go. It depends on how much food we can acquire and how many people want to help. A low rumble of muttering voices begins.

A man stands and asks, “How many turkeys do we still need?” I look at Phillip. He says, “I guess we need another thirteen.” The man responds, “I’ll buy the thirteen turkeys. I’ll have them here this afternoon.” This man is homeless. He is doing well, and we have all been rejoicing with him. He has just been hired for a job, but he has not yet started working. We all know the turkeys will require most of his food stamps. The rumble of voices grows louder.

I jump in, “Wait a minute, now. If you bring thirteen turkeys this afternoon, we don’t have freezer space to hold them.” A woman breaks in, “I have room for six turkeys in my freezer.” Another man adds, “I have room for some in mine.”

I look at John and he shrugs. Still pessimistic, I say, “Okay well, we’ll need to have all the other food for side dishes.”

People start popping up, “I can bring green beans.”

“I’m sure I can get some potatoes.”

Foster stands and says, “Okay everybody, if you want to help with set up and serving the meal, please see me after the service.”

Phillip hollers, “If you want to help get food or go to the country club to cook, please come to me after the service.”

Everyone is talking now.

Then a toothless, old woman, who sits on the front row and is usually on some other planet, raises her hand and yells over the din of voices. “Are we talking about turkeys? I can bring a turkey!”—and I lose it. Everything is out of my control—the Thanksgiving Dinner and my emotions. I dive off the stage and try to find a seat while John shakes his head looking at me with tears in his eyes.

Tisha, our resident prophetess raises her hand. She says, “God has not only said we are to do the Thanksgiving Dinner, but God will supply everything we need—GENEROUSLY.”

The atmosphere is charged as people share their prouds and sorries from the last week. Some with great news, some with prayer requests, and some with deep confessions and apologies. All are rejoiced with, prayed for, and forgiven.

John’s message for the day calls everyone to join Jesus in drinking from his cup—joining him in his Way of Life, in his community, and in his sacrificial service—and we all share communion together.

After we have washed the dishes and put the coffee shop tables and chairs put back in place, Foster and Phillip come to me. They say, “We have everything we need. All of it has been donated and people have committed to serve. We just need you to do one thing—make a flyer we can take door to door to invite everyone to come to Thanksgiving Dinner.”