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"Nacho Cheese Girl"

by Amanda Beattie

Soon they would be coming by the hundreds. People with little or no income. Families and individuals, brought here by poverty and need. People who didn't normally come to our church. And all of them were people who wouldn't have much of a Christmas outside of this night. So why was I so scared?

The Outreach

When I volunteered to help with the Christmas outreach at my church, I wasn't entirely sure what I was getting into. At the time, I was so shy that I secretly hoped to have a job in the kitchen, wiping counters or washing dishes. In fact, I would have done just about anything -- except have a serious interaction with the people we were ministering to. But that's not what the Lord had in mind.

In spite of my apprehension, I was scheduled to help with food service. The dinner was buffet-style, so people came and served themselves, except for one part -- the nacho cheese.

The church didn't want children handling the hot, gooey liquid, so I became the Nacho Cheese Girl. My job was simple: ladle out the cheese for the visitors until they told me that they had enough. Still, I was scared at the thought of even that much interaction with these people who seemed so alien. I had never been around poor or homeless people before. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to act. And I had no idea what to expect.

I was outfitted in an apron and plastic gloves and armed with a ladle. I prepared for the worst but was determined not to look as nervous as I felt. Inside, however, my heart was racing as the first few visitors came down the buffet line.

More, Please!

All kinds of folks came by my station. There were little boys who, without fail, asked me to keep pouring on the cheese until they had fairly drowned their chips in it. There were the shy mothers, who politely refused after a single spoonful, and young men who wanted cheese on everything -- not just their nachos.

There were older women who never did say a word, but darted away with their trays as soon as they had enough. There were men who seemed to be a little sheepish about being there, but obviously enjoying it in spite of themselves. Young girls kept asking me for seconds, and toddlers were sneaking food off of their moms' plates before they were even through the buffet line.

As the night wore on, I grew more and more comfortable at my post. I could handle it. Even though the only words we exchanged were, "Say when," and "That's enough," I stopped seeing those people as homeless and poor...and I started seeing them as who they really were. They were people -- human beings who, for one reason or another, were not in a good circumstance.

The Reason for It All

As I looked around the extremely crowded room, I could feel my heart begin to melt. The wonder I saw in the young children's eyes was the same look my Sunday School class got when admiring the Christmas decorations. So many of the women who had children gave them the same love and tenderness that my mother gave to me.

I could see men showing the same kind of guardianship to their families that I saw in my father. I began to feel that I knew these people, even though we had just met; I could identify with them in a way I had never imagined possible. Even those who seemed rough and hardened showed a glimmer of joy in the celebration.

While person after person filed past me, I stopped seeing their poverty, I stopped seeing their circumstance, and I stopped seeing their outward appearance. I began to see why Jesus came to earth. I saw, in their faces, the reason He would choose to leave His heavenly realm of glory.

Jesus didn't come for only my church and me. It was for these people that He was born. It was for these people that He lived. And it was for these people that He died and rose again.

As I began to view the crowd as Jesus saw them, through the lenses of His love and mercy, the last fragments of my uneasiness dissolved away. What a privilege to be able to serve such a truly, powerfully, purely loved group -- even if it was only with nacho cheese.

Life Applications:

How do you usually view under-privileged people?
How do you think Jesus sees them?
What can you do to show God's love to them this season?

Copyright 2002 by Amanda Beattie
All rights reserved.