My Blue Sweatshirt and a Homeless Man

When those who know me well consider how I came to know the Lord, they usually mention three things.

1) The fall retreat my freshman year of college
2) My backwards hat
3) A navy blue Wisconsin sweatshirt

I was the kid who got up at the end of the retreat and talked about how I had experienced God that weekend and how I had given my life to Him the night before.

And for some reason, I too always think of the navy-blue Wisconsin sweatshirt that I had been wearing that weekend.

That sweatshirt followed me to Panama City, FL that year, my first experience sharing my faith. It traveled to East Asia that summer on my first "mission trip." And to North Myrtle Beach, Boston, back to East Asia with me this year, and many places in-between.

In many ways, that sweatshirt and the wear and tear that it accumulated has served as a souvenir, or a keepsake, that is a visible reminder of how God has changed my life and of the incredible adventure that He has planned for me.

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The past few weeks have been really difficult. Ministry here is challenging, but it's also been rewarding and fruitful thus far.

But sometimes, life is just plain hard.

One roommate has had to deal with some hard things, another had his appendix taken out a couple weeks ago, and our team as a whole has had plenty of obstacles thrown at us - all of this on top of the usual cultural pressures that come with being here and missing girlfriends, friends, and family.

Though I miss Amy a lot and don't always go through the day on a full stomach (you try eating one kind of food for three straight months...), I thought I was doing pretty well all things considered and mostly exempt from the hard things going on.

In many ways, I almost felt like I had to hold our team together.

Turns out, the past few weeks have taken a bigger toll on me than I thought.

During that time, it was really easy to be distracted by everything that was happening and to just nix spending time with the Lord. Days were long, I was tired, and there never seemed to be enough time in one day between trying to take care of roommates, keeping in touch with Amy, and doing ministry on campus.

One Tuesday afternoon a couple weeks ago I was walking around on campus, no appointments scheduled, searching for something to do, someone to talk to. It was very windy, and very cold. Sometimes the afternoons can be frustrating since most students are in class and the athletic fields are closed-off due to gym classes.

So I started praying.

I mean, really praying, in a desperate kind of way.

For the Spirit to lead me. For me to EXPERIENCE God and what He wants to do in my life and on this campus.

I was sick of afternoons spent wandering around looking for something to do. I was sick of feeling distant from God, even through all that was happening.

I had never been to the West campus before, so I decided to head over there. On the way over I got a text message from one roommate asking me to pray for him and something he was going through. Several minutes later, I received another text message from another roommate telling me he was going to the hospital to have his appendix taken out.

With everything going on, I just stopped to pray. Should I go pray with my roommate? Should I try to hurry back to go to the hospital with my other roommate before he and our team leader left?

But something was still telling me to walk to the West campus. So I went.

In order to get there, you have to walk through an underground crosswalk to get to the other side of the road. Once on the other side, I walked around the West campus for maybe 10 minutes, continuing to pray as I walked. There wasn't much happening so I headed for the crosswalk to go back to my side of campus.

On the way through, I saw a middle-aged homeless man sitting on a cushion, huddled over trying to keep his 4-5 year old son warm and out of the wind.

I instantly knew that this man, trying to keep his son warm, was the reason I felt led to go to the West campus.

I walked out of the crosswalk to the other side and stopped in the sunlight to pray about what I should do to help this man. I knew I should do SOMETHING, but I didn't know what.

Eventually I decided that I should give him my sweatshirt to keep his son warm.

But as soon as I decided that, all I could think about was when I would buy a new sweatshirt...and then about all of the other things I would need to take care of and buy once I returned home...and then about how living expenses would increase next year but I'd have the same salary...and then about how I have almost no money, and so on, and so on.

Finally, I took my sweatshirt off from underneath my winter coat and tried to just put all of those things aside and head back for the man and his son. But with every step I took, another financial concern popped into my head. It was almost as if there was a physical force trying to push me backward to prevent me from speaking to this man.

After I stood over the man and his son for a few seconds, he looked up and I crouched down to talk to him. In his own language I asked him his name and told him mine. In a whisper that I could barely hear or understand, he told me his name. I then held out my sweatshirt and told him that I wanted to give it to his son. He again quietly thanked me and took the sweatshirt. Still in his own language I told him, "Jesus loves you," handed him some money and walked away.

During all of this I hadn't noticed that all of the people in the crosswalk had pretty much come to a standstill. I guess it's not every day that a foreigner stops to talk to a homeless man and his son. In fact, on most days, most people, myself included, just walk by.

As I got up to leave, they began to start walking again. One man smiled at me and tried to say something to me but I didn't understand what he was saying.

Once I got out of the underground crosswalk, my heart beating a million miles an hour, tears started a consistent stream down my face.

Here was this man, whose only goal was to keep his young son out of the wind and cold. How must he have felt, as a man and as a father, feeling the responsibility to provide for his family, yet finding himself begging for money in a crowded crosswalk?

And then there was me, trying to do something out of love, and all I could think about was myself and my own financial situation. It was disgusting and it hurt, but it was also one of the best feelings I'd had in the past three months.

Because I wasn't just crying due to my selfishness and sin, and not just for this man and his son who I felt a deep compassion for that was certainly not mustered up from my own heart, but because for maybe the first time in three months, I felt like I had experienced God - His love, His grace, and His working in my own life - in a real way.

I felt in my heart how much God loves this man and his son. I felt the Spirit's leading in the day's events. I felt God's conviction of the sin in my life. And it was wonderful.

And as I walked home, I broke down knowing that there are so many people in my life right now that need love and support, and there's only so much of me to go around. I only have so much time to pray, only so much energy to put forth, and only so much love to give before I hit a wall.

And hit the wall I did.

(I hope it's clear that I'm not just writing about this interaction because it's a "cool story" or to bring glory to myself, and I too realize that we unfortunately can't do this for every homeless person we meet, but I write this to tell of how God has met with me and revealed Himself to me.)

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I spent the next 24 hours in a hospital room trying to support my roommate yet hold myself together at the same time. When I returned home late at night after my stay at the hospital, I tried to tell this story to my parents and broke down once again (sorry mom and dad!).

Luckily, a few days later, Amy came to visit Thanksgiving week on a vision trip with a bunch of other friends from UW-Madison.

As I sat there processing through things with her from the past couple weeks, I again broke down, this time more than the last (this is becoming a trend at this point!).

I was tired, my emotional gas tank was at about -10, and at the end of the week when we'd have to say goodbye again, they all got to go back to American food, the Packers, sports on TV, fresh air, Christmas gatherings with friends, and family, and I stayed here, still having to work through the stresses, frustrations, and trials of the past few weeks.

I was truly at the end of myself, and I wanted to go home.

But as He always does, God has met me in my weakness and brokenness and allowed me to connect with Him and be comforted by Him. I have a renewed sense of focus for the ministry here and He has realigned my priorities to truly try to cling to Him the best I know how.

And He's forced me to move out of the way and make this ministry, my relationships, my life - all about Him.

I'm going to lean into Him, asking HIM to move on this campus, HIM to love my team and help me to love my team, and HIM to be glorified through me - that people wouldn't see Chris Kopp walking around but a weak, broken man, filled with God's Spirit and love.

Ministry is still overwhelming, my relationships are far from perfect, and life hasn't just immediately stopped being busy, but just to get ONE glimpse of who He is, ONE experience of His Spirit working in me, ONE day in His presence, is completely worth whatever else is thrown at me.

And as much as I loved that navy-blue, Wisconsin sweatshirt, its time in my possession came to a fitting conclusion and it got the ball rolling for a much-needed one at that.

-CK