December 8, 2006

Justin

The last of the line is being served. The last hotdog of the night just came off the grill. The dinner hour seemed longer than usual. It was our fifth week having a cookout right in the middle of the apartment complex. About an hour before we had set up the table, brought in the food, lugged in the plastic chairs, unloaded the grill, and started grilling hotdogs. Families stood in line to receive a hotdog, chips, a cookie, and a can of soda. By the end of the night we had served about 125 people which was a lot when we first started; twenty weeks later we served closer to 200. Over the summer we served about 3000 meals. That's 3000 paper trays, 3000 napkins, 3000 drinks. We generated a great deal of trash. We recycled cans, but everything else went into the trash cans we provided at the cookout site.

It was because of trash that I met Justin. Justin lives right across from where we have our cookouts. He is about twelve years old with blonde hair and always had a big smile. Getting rid of the trash is hard for us. The church doesn't have a dumpster (can't afford it) and the two city containers that we have at our house will hardly take care of the trash we have, let alone the large amount of trash generated at a picnic. After meal #5 Justin wanted to help us clean up. He pulled the black plastic bag out of the trash can, tying the bag like a boy scout tying knots. He knew precisely what to do to keep the half-eaten hotdogs and the ketchup-stained trays contained in the bag. He would twist his lips and roll his eyes and with a quick twist of the wrist, “voila”, the trash was secure. He asked me what he should do with the bag; I suggested he put it on the truck. Suddenly, I remembered that our trash containers were already full and the city will not pick up loose bags. I was in a quandary - - - what to do with all the trash. I quickly called him before he got the trash loaded. I asked him if he could put it out with his trash; he assured me he could and would. Those in the apartments have no limit on trash. They do not have to put the trash in the required containers, and they can pile it high. The containers are meant to beautify Kokomo; it seems that beauty for the apartment dwellers is an unnecessary expense. They put their trash on the side of the road on Sunday night, and by Monday morning it is gone. After that week, if Justin was home, he took the trash away without being asked. I would turn around and the trash can would be empty. If I looked quickly enough I could see Justin dragging the bag out of sight. I never really saw where he put it but for me it was gone. One less worry, for me.

Justin reminds me of Jesus. Jesus takes the trash out of my life. He bags it up, ties it up, and takes it away. He takes a messed-up life and makes it right. I know Jesus forgives sins and the Bible says that our sins are removed. I don't know where Jesus puts all the garbage that I accumulate in my life. However, I am sure that there have been times when I was ready to have the garbage of my life removed; and before I could even ask for help, I would see Jesus dragging it out of sight. "For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions
from us. As a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him."

Postscript: In mid-October, the apartment residents received new trash containers. I’m glad they did not have them last summer or I would not have met Justin.