UPCYCLED SOULS

365 Days of Thanksliving — Day 157

Here’s a useless fact you didn’t know you probably don’t need to know. But, because I’m in a snarky mood today, you’re gonna hear it anyway. (This is me sticking my tongue out at ya). Here it is: We as Americans dump about 728,000 tons of trash daily into landfills, each one of us adding approximately 4.5–5 lbs. a day to the heap.

Dude! That’s a ton of garbage—well, technically it's about three-quarters of a million tons, but who’s counting? (Me. I’m counting.) Is it just me, or does that sound like a load of rubbish? What do you think? Post a comment below before the seagulls get to it.

All’s I know is that today is Wednesday, and every Wednesday I haul our trash and recycling cans to the curb. And without fail—or maybe with faith—our local trash duo zings around the neighborhood in their little pink trash truck to "exorcise" our bins.

Okay, for giggles, let’s do the math. My wife and I—that’s two people. (Geez Jason, you sure are smart. Someone get this guy a Nobel Prize.) Keep it up there, smarty-pants! Two times seven days is 14. But just wait, we ain’t done; check out this "calculus" move: 14 x 4.5 (we’re being conservative here) = 63.

Really? My wife and I toss 63lbs. of refuse every week? I call "rubbish" on this one. There is no way I’m hauling 63lbs. to the curb unless I’m accidentally throwing away the dumbbells I never use. Maybe if we include the weight of the cans... or my bad jokes... maybe.

But… is it possible? If we included all the other crap we (as Americans) toss out, recycle, or that’s done on our behalf—thinking restaurants, gas stations, etc.—then maybe? Still, that seems like a lot. Someone needs to check Google’s math. Gemini, you smoking some ganja here? (For the record, I think it’s only high only on data and digital caffeine.)

Here’s an interesting scripture for ya:

“God raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the trash heap. He seats them with noblemen and gives them a throne of honor. For the foundations of the earth are the Lord’s; he has set the world on them. He guards the steps of his faithful ones, but the wicked perish in darkness, for a person does not prevail by his own strength.” 1 Samuel 2:8–9.

The Psalmist repeated Solomon’s refrain verbatim, saying “He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the trash heap.”

It seems God has a recurring habit of "upcycling" souls that the world has written off as scrap. (That's worth pondering, isn't it).

This morning, before I hauled a can to the curb, I read a story about a family in Arkansas who—after realizing something was amiss—discovered a homeless man squatting in their basement storage closet. The transient had been helping himself to the homeowner’s food, among a few other oddities. He was essentially living in the literal margins of their life.

The homeowners, a Christian couple, weren’t angry with the man and felt bad for him. Authorities, nevertheless, pressed charges and removed the squatter from their home. The man’s image was included in the article; he looked as if he had cuts and scars all over his face—a map of a very hard life. Gotta wonder what series of unfortunate events led him there.

By the grace of God, there go I.

As I pondered the article, I wondered how I’d react if I were the surprised homeowner. A man, born 41 years ago with the same potential as anyone else, broke into a home only to find shelter and food. Perhaps he felt as though no one cared about him in a world where we’re so quick to toss anything to the curb—sometimes including the "dregs" of society.

This post isn’t meant to be a simple commentary on our recycling habits. As I ponder this weekend’s Gospel text (about loving God and loving our neighbors), this article has me again asking: how are we actually doing with that?

What if those homeowners had gone back to the police station, posted bail, and asked the judge if they could take the man in—to help him back to his feet? Imagine if "radical hospitality" was more common than "radical disposal." Imagine if that was a “thing” in our country.

Today, I’m thankful that we have people like our local “Charlie and Emilio” who, without fanfare, remove our refuse and take it to the landfill. I’m thankful I’m not homeless (although I once came close). And I’m thankful there are Christians “out there” who didn’t personally toss this man to the trash heap of the world but took some form of pity on him.

What are you thankful for today? (Maybe that I’m done sermonizing???)

See ya tomorrow friends!