Savannah, Georgia in early July is a moveable painting of life in its inexhaustible variety.* The late morning sky awakens the streets of the Riverfront coast with bustling city life, and an air of something new within the lungs of historic landmarks and statues.
Crowds of tourists line the street along the Savannah River, as the storefronts match their cravings with a taste of coastal life. A city of vibrancy and deeply rooted history, Savannah melts in the mid-summer heat. Its ground company becomes a variety of strangers and neighbors seeking to drink up the richness of its beauty.
Outwardly, it seems, Savannah is a haven of beauty. The art and architecture, the historic resilience, and the variety of its paint strokes all form a kind of roadmap back in time to a place and a people who long for beauty, meaning, and hope.
When James Oglethorpe founded Savannah in 1733, that was his hope for the first capital city of Georgia. What continues today in the lives of Savannah residents is surely a fusion of these original intentions, along with the ever-changing nature of culture and economic uncertainty.
That is, in fact, the coastal paradox I encountered as I walked the streets of Savannah, Georgia last summer.
With glimmers of historic pleas for hope on peoples’ faces, the present disparities of their circumstances were holding them back from experiencing it. The people in the great “Hostess City” are hungry for more.
They long for that which is real, and He who is timeless—that is, they are hungry for the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
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When I met John on River Street, it was an ordinary Tuesday. I had taken a group of 12 team members that morning to do a relational ministry called “Let’s Get Deep” along the River and in Forsyth Park.
Our goal for the afternoon was to open the door to deep conversations with those we encountered on the street; in simple terms, we wanted to practice making the stranger a friend.
For the majority of the ministry week, our team had been painting houses for residents in need and seeking to be the hands and feet of Jesus.
However, the purpose of the relational ministry on River Street was to expound on the holistic gospel of Jesus, as we challenged ourselves to seek out those in the margins of the crowd and to be the eyes and ears of Jesus.
So, when John approached me, I asked him if he was interested in writing a response in one of our journals, where I had made various question prompts. He looked at me and said, “No, I’m scared of what I would write.”
I was instantly curious. This curiosity led us into a 2-hour conversation about his story and the deepening grief he felt toward his past. I listened and paused everything to be there with him.
I could see in his eyes what he eventually said to me: “No one has ever seen me like this. No one has ever taken the time to see me or listen. Why are you doing this?” My answer was simple.
I told John that I was only proof that God sees him, and God loves him. John had been homeless since he was eighteen, and walked River Street for the first time in 5 years that day. He told me that it was a miracle in itself that he even took the wrong turn and walked the cobblestone beside my team and our table full of journals. John and I got lunch, and we gave him resources for shelters in the area so he could find more secure lodging.
That day, we did not finish painting a house, or wash dishes in the homeless shelter; but that Tuesday on River Street, through our present attention and unrushed love, we saw John and he experienced the timeless and very real hope of Jesus.
The people of Savannah are drawn to beauty and the hope-inspiring parts of life, but the brokenness around them has tainted the image of that which is good and right and beautiful. The gospel of Jesus, in service and in presence, can transform this community into a place of restored unity and the peaceful shalom of God.
“‘For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat; I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink; I was a stranger and you took me in; I was naked and you clothed me; I was sick and you took care of me; I was in prison and you visited me.’”
- Matthew 25:25-30
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* “The inexhaustible variety of life” from The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald
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