It was the strangest sensation. Driving into Steubenville was like driving into a ghost town. No one was there! There were buildings, but they were empty. Abandoned store fronts lined the downtown streets with boarded-up windows and unnecessary “closed” signs on the doors—anyone could see business had long since gone. In some areas there was a church on every corner, but where were the members? Perhaps the most notable thing was that I didn’t see a single operating bar or pub, however cheap corner markets were abundant.

The first day some of us made the trek up the hill to the house and former business of a man named Ishmael. Ishmael had quite a story—and quite a mess for us to clean. He had collected clothes and shoes for 15 years to send to refugee camps in Africa, his homeland, but could not afford the shipping costs when the time came. There the clothes sat, in his store, his house, and basement, just waiting. A truck driver by trade, Ishmael had been injured in an accident years before which left him unable to physically handle the work it would take to clean up his home. So there we were. Working with Ishmael was nice—he was grateful, he was kind-hearted, and he helped us in any way he could. His positive energy helped motivate us to keep working, bag after bag, even when the pile of clothes looked to be regenerating instead of diminishing. By the end of our two days with Ishmael we hadn’t completed bagging up all the clothes, but we had cleaned up most of the ground floor. We would have liked to have seen the project completed, but that will be someone else’s joy to do in the weeks to come.

We spent another day pulling up weeks at a playground. Not many of us had any previous gardening experience, but we attacked the unwelcome plants with gusto. Now this was satisfying! What a joy it was to see a project completed. Not to mention the satisfaction that comes with ripping a whole weed out of the ground. Or taking a rake and just wailing on the ground. In any case, it was a nice project. We didn’t meet anybody from the community at the park, but it was nice to know that someone might enjoy the hard work we had done.

Our other project, well, we weren’t so sure we were appreciated.

On Tuesday afternoon we were told that we would be picking up trash in one of the neighborhoods. I thought to myself, “Okay, shouldn’t be too bad. It’ll be nice to brighten up a community.” Then we got there. Sure, it felt okay at first, but after picking up the 300th cigarette butt I started to feel a little miffed. As the afternoon progressed I just got more and more annoyed. I absolutely hated our project.

There are a few things you should understand about Tuesday – 1) No one from Steubenville was there to help us pick up trash. A community leader – the president of the community development coalition – was with us, but not a single resident came out to help. 2) There was trash everywhere. Everywhere. You learn a lot about a town when you pick up their trash. The candy of choice? Sour Patch Kids. Favorite thing to smoke? Swisher Sweets. Popular past-time? Meth production, sales, and use. (Don’t worry – we didn’t touch anything drug-related...) 3) This garbage surrounded homes and littered the sidewalks and curbs. There was trash surrounding a garbage can, but no trash in the can itself. Hardly anyone was taking ownership of their garbage! 4) Volunteer groups did this every week. Every week.

What’s more, more people just didn’t seem to care. Kids on bikes called our group “lame,” and people sitting on their front porches watched us with indifference. To be fair, a few people walking by or driving past paused to thank us. That was nice. But for me, it was too little, too late. I was mad.
The woman in charge told us when residents see us picking up trash it makes them think. They’ll feel guilty, she said, and start to take ownership. Or they’ll feel nothing and see people come in week after week to clean up after them, I thought. We’re not helping, we’re enabling.

Tuesday left a bad taste in my mouth, and my mood was all the worse for it. Steubenville was a city with little hope. Others could feel it too, this sense of indifference from the people we saw. Even the Youthworks staff seemed burnt out, like they were running on fumes. What was it about this place? Those who could, left as the steel industry went under in the 1980s. The population decreased by half, and those who remained did so mostly because they had nowhere else to do. Nowhere else to work. No money with which to move. And now there they are. In Steubenville. On their porches in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon, taunting volunteers who come to clean up their mess.
It was the first time on a mission trip where I could not for the life of me think of or feel our mission. Youthworks tells us to “Be like Jesus,” but why bother if no one cares?

It was Wednesday before it dawned on me – that is what being like Jesus is all about. It’s grace.
The people who didn’t care that we were there—the people who called us “stupid” for being there—they received our help anyway. We smiled and we continued to pick up their trash. The children with attitudes at Kids Club, they received our love anyway.

It’s so contrary to the way our world works today. Meeting ungratefulness with loving service, who does that? Our minds were telling us that the kids were ungrateful and the neighborhoods weren’t worth our time. If they weren’t going to help themselves, why should we? If they weren’t going to appreciate our help, why keep at it? Even though no one went into the week expecting to get anything from anyone we met, I think we all assumed a “thank you” would have been nice!

Does Jesus ask for a “thank you?” Does Jesus look at us and say, “Well if they aren’t going to help themselves, I sure as hell won’t?” No. Jesus loves unconditionally and Jesus saves unconditionally. God’s grace reaches farther than we can imagine and it is never ceasing. Yes, we should respond with gratitude and with action, but we don’t always. God’s grace still keeps coming.

Yeah, it would have been nice if people helped us clean up their garbage, but they didn’t. We were there anyway, and more people will be there next week, and the week after that. Just like God’s grace. It’s there when we don’t want it, it’s there when we don’t appreciate it, and it will be there when we realize just how badly we’ve needed it all along.

It’s not easy being the hands and feet of God’s work. It’s not glamorous. It’s not always appreciated. But it’s what we are called to do. That was our mission.