Originally posted Aug. 15, 2012, at ELCA Southeastern Synod Blog. Republished with permission of the author.
The first time I remember driving through downtown Knoxville would have been the summer of 1976, when I was on my way to sail in the San Juan 21 Nationals regatta in New Bern, N.C. I have made the drive through that town many times since then.
As I pass through the very middle of the city I always notice the attractive and inviting sign at eye-level with the Interstate overpass: “Regas Restaurant.” I have heard that Regas serves an excellent meal and they are known for their fine steaks, and I have often thought, “Next time maybe Leann and I can stop over here and have dinner at Regas.”
I honestly don’t eat much steak, but when I do, I want it to be tender and cooked to my perfection — browned on the outside but still cool-pink in the middle, and maybe even still sizzling just a little.
I can imagine the chef has just removed the perfectly cut and cooked piece of meat from the flaming grill, and with tongs extended, places it beside the steaming baked potato and tender asparagus on the plate the waiter is holding and about to deliver to my table. I think one would call that “medium rare.”
While I have had a well-cooked steak from time to time, rarely are they delivered to my table tasting as good as the picture in the menu looked, or perhaps they just never meet my imagined expectations.
The next time I drive through Knoxville, on I-40, and Leann is with me, I will be able to take her straight to Regas Restaurant. I found it today — walked right by it in fact. But I already know I am going to be disappointed no matter how nice a piece of steak the chef chooses or how perfectly it is cooked, because I am not going to be thinking about steak. I am going to be thinking about a plastic cup filled with cold water.
You see, recently I participated with three youths from my congregation in a mission trip to inner-city Knoxville through WOW Urban Ministries, and how I see the world changed just a little bit.
I have this feeling that it is one of those small changes that winds up making a big difference in the final outcome, like a ship’s captain calling for a 2-degree change in heading, which over several hundred miles will make a huge difference where the ship will end up.
Five of us were doing a simple chore that is done when the “big project” runs short or gets changed. It might be considered by some as a “filler” activity or even “busy work.” It is known as the water wagon.
A large cooking pot — probably large enough to hold 5 gallons — is filled with ice and water and placed in the bed of a little red wagon, along with a couple of ladles and sleeves of plastic cups. The wagon is pulled around the block of the inner-city neighborhood near the mission headquarters, St. John’s Lutheran Church, which includes many of the ministries and services that non-profit agencies offer to the homeless population of Knoxville.
On this hot July day our solicitation, “Would you like a cold cup of water?” was greeted with gratitude, as one person after another accepted our offer.
The water splashed out of the pot when we would hit a bump, and it would go splashing down the side of the cup when the aim of the ladle by a giggling middle-schooler was not just right. But more often than not the cup was filled and handed to a thirsty soul who said, “Thank you!”
We had worked our way down the first street that ran under the busy Interstate overpass. It was noisy with midday traffic — whining motors and bumping expansion joints when 18-wheelers passed overhead.
There were homeless people the entire route — some sitting in small groups chatting, others sitting alone in the shade of the Interstate bridge, and a couple of them lying on their sides taking a late morning nap to escape the heat or, I am sure for some of them, escaping the effects of the liquor they were somehow able to obtain the night before.
We made a left turn at the next corner on a street that paralleled the overpass above, and there, right in front of me, but much higher from this ground level, I saw that sign: “Regas Restaurant.”
I thought how subjective a good steak can be. I thought about how I could probably live without ever eating another steak. And I thought about how hard it is to mess up a cup of cold thirst-quenching, life-giving water. Mostly I thought about how stunningly simple it was to pull off this small act of loving one’s neighbor.
As I understand it, the “WOW” in WOW Urban Ministries stands for “Win Our World” — and I am sure refers to the notion of the in-breaking of the kingdom of God when we do these ordinary acts of loving our neighbor with food, water, shelter, clothing and all the other acts of mercy that give these people — who live on the margin — life and dignity and maybe a chance at making it through another day or another season.
However, for me, “WOW” will always stand for “Water On Wheels” for the lesson this simple act taught me.
“… I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink…” (Matthew 25:35)
Find a link to Matt Steinhauer’s entry at ELCA Southeastern Synod Blog at Lutheran Blogs.
