On the sign in front of the Adams Rescue Mission:
Hey You
Yes You
You Matter
Eph 2:10
It’s a cool operation. They run a thrift shop on the main floor, a major recycling operation in a warehouse out back, a men’s shelter on the second floor, and in their basement, they house a used furniture store. In downtown Gettysburg, they run a separate shelter just for women and their children.
Located just beyond the Gettysburg area shopping district, we pass the Mission on our way to Hanover, Pennsylvania, a half hour away. Hanover is where we need to drive when we want to shop anywhere besides Walmart. Stores like Lowes, Target, Staples and TJ Maxx are safely located in the next town over. If we want to go waste money, we need to put some effort into it. But when we do, far too often, we wind up popping into the Mission on the way to look at furniture.
Last weekend’s errands: A new mailbox—ours has become decidedly not watertight over the past few months; and some new paver stones for our front walk—we’re hoping to make it less of a rustic garden path and more of a sidewalk so our aging parents can more easily navigate it. But first we stopped by the Mission.
Outside the mission: “I’ll catch up with you in a minute. I want to snap a picture of the sign.” I know a writing prompt when I see one. Thirty seconds later I found Susan in the basement deep in conversation with a guy about the used dresser he hoped to buy. “We want it to store our food. In the hotel room where we live, there’s nowhere to keep our food containers.” Their conversation left me wondering if a financially comfortable family like mine should be the ones taking advantage of the amazing furniture deals at the Mission.
We came looking for a new couch. And we completely struck out. We saw three that we loved and would have bought any of them instantly, but all were already marked sold. I guess we need to show up sometime before mid-day on Saturday if we want anything good.
I feel a kinship for the Mission. Not long after I moved to town, the Mission’s then director Bruce invited my nonprofit company’s management team to tour his recycling center. Walking into the warehouse I was stunned by the size and scope of the operation. More impressive to me than the massive bales of aluminum and cardboard set to be shipped out for profitable recycling (this was 2008), were the massive bales of clothing to be sent—at the Mission’s expense—overseas to help clothe developing nations. Bruce spoke about stewardship for the earth, and how he saw recycling as an integral piece of his Christian mission.
Several years later, I read in the local paper that Bruce’s son was killed in a bicycle accident at an intersection I’d previously ridden through. In 1995, I narrowly survived a similar, life altering accident. I was hit by a van. I lingered in a haze for three days before the hospital staff was willing to say I would live. I feel those of us who share the bond of serious cycling accidents, as the rider or a rider’s loved one, might understand each other in ways others don’t.
As a former Christian, I’m usually not found propping up overtly Christian organizations in this way. I’m usually complaining about the propensity in my town for everyone to assume everyone else is Christian. “Hey, Jeff. I hope you have a happy Easter weekend.” How many times did I hear that last month? My trip to the Mission last weekend reminded me that service to others and service to the earth are the foundation of civil society.
A more traditional translation of Ephesians 2:10 goes like this: For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. I very much appreciate the inclusiveness of the Mission’s version: You Matter.
Yes, you. We all do.
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Previously Published on jefftcann.com and is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: author
