Lunch on Noble

(Originally published May 23, 2006 in wysiwyg. Reprinted with permission from the guy in the mugshot.)


Every now and then, I experience something that makes me wonder just how many times in my life I cheat God out of the opportunity to demonstrate his promise to provide by not giving Him chances to work through me.

In 1998, a member of the Trinity Episcopal Church in Guthrie, Okla. — a church of about 60 — learned that there were a number of homeless people in town. He was told they were sleeping under bridges at night, in abandoned houses, or wherever else they could find a place to come in out of the elements. He might not be able to solve all their problems, but through the church, together they could at least give them something to eat, he reasoned.

And that's how Lunch on Noble began.

That member has since moved away from Guthrie, but his vision still lives at Trinity Episcopal through people like Dorothy Ruth Knight — D.R. as she's known to friends. D.R. was part of Lunch on Noble from the beginning. After coaxing the church to give the volunteers $100 in seed money to start the free lunch program, they went to work. They printed flyers advertising the program and posted them under the bridges and other places in town where the homeless were known to congregate. They contacted DHS and told them about the program, hoping DHS could refer some people to them.

It started with a simple philosophy. Ask no questions, pass no judgements. Let the people who come through the door know that someone cares about them. And whoever comes through the door hungry gets fed. So in August, 1998, Trinity Episcopal threw open the doors for whosoever would come. The first day, no one did. The second day, no one did. Finally, on the third day, a mother referred by DHS brought her children, and they ate.

Soon, word spread, and eaters came. Other churches learned about the effort and joined in. The First Christian Church kicked in $200 and sent volunteers. Other churches started donating food or help. They got a grant from Wal-Mart. The local grocery store started helping out with food. Today, Lunch on Noble averages about 35 guests per day, Monday through Friday. Most of them are regulars, and D.R. knows them at least by first name. Those who come get a prepared hot lunch, complete with salad and dessert. Andwhen they leave, they take with them a sack meal — two sandwiches, either bologna and cheese or PB&J, plus cookies or chips or fruit — so they have something else they can eat later in the day. Lunchand Dinner on Noble, if that's what the need is.

By my count, Lunch on Noble has opened its doors more than 1,500 weekdays since 1998. And they've never not had enough food to feed whoever came. Oh, there were some close calls, D.R. remembers. Like the time the eaters kept coming and coming, and the prepared food kept going and going, and it was clear pretty quick there wasn't going to be enough. Until a neighboring church called, saying they had some food left over from a church dinner the night before. Did Lunch on Noble need any extra food? Or the day they simply didn't have any dessert to serve with lunch. Until a woman from another church who'd heard about the program showed up with two cakes.

The problem, D.R. says, has never been not having enough food. God provides. They've learned to plan as best they can, and leave the unforseen to God for Him to worry about . The problem these days is volunteers to help prepare and serve. Many of those who started the program were seniors back in 1998. Some have passed on; others are in bad health. D.R. was just a spring chicken in 1998 when she started with Lunch on Noble. She was a school-girlish 73 years young back then. Today she's 81 and has emphysema. She can't stand up for long periods anymore, and every now and then has to take a puff from her inhaler. She's sick. She's tired. But she still coordinates Lunch on Noble, and at least three days a week, she's at the church, helping to prepare, serve or clean up.

Ordinary people. A simple "Jesus" vision to feed the hungry. And an extraordinary God who provides because they give Him a chance.