Mike Yankoski - My 30 Days Under the Overpass: Not Your Ordinary Devotional

in the traditional sense. In fact, you should put this book down if you're not willing to put your lifestyle where your mouth is. It will be a waste of your time. And frankly, it will be confusing to others who have the idea that you're going to live a certain way and then you don't. You might as well watch exercise videos while you sit on your couch eating bonbons and potato chips. Same idea.

My 30 Days Under the Overpass isn't a book you just read. You do it too.

The idea to become homeless for five months came when I realized I was saying a lot of stuff, but not doing anything. Don't worry, I'm not suggesting you go out and become homeless. But I am asking you to engage, find a place where your beliefs can become actions.

Maybe you've had a chance to read Under the Overpass, the book that details my journey on the streets of America with my traveling partner, Sam. Maybe not. Either way, it's fine. My 30 Days Under the Overpass actually goes a little deeper into the heart of some of the issues we encountered during our time on the streets. If you'd like a detailed description of the whole journey from start to finish, check out Under the Overpass. I'll just give you the short version here.

The idea to become homeless hit me quite suddenly one morning during my freshman year of college. I was sitting in church, not really paying much attention to the sermon, when suddenlyfor no reason that I could figure I jolted awake and began listening. The pastor was pushing us to be the Christians we say we are. By the end of the message I was convinced of something I didn't likeI wasn't living up to my words at all.

I was being a complete hypocrite.

Ouch.

I had a comfortable life as a student at a Christian college in Santa Barbara. Where was my self-sacrifice? Where was the love of others? Where was the willingness to let God lead me where He wanted? My Christianity, my faith, was a strong set of beliefs, but not much more. Rarely did it engage the real world, and when it did, it usually did so only with an under-the-breath prayer for some heathen who had just cut me off on the freeway.

The more I thought about it, the more I had a sinking feeling that I was making a mockery of what I said was the most important thing in the world. I was actually, as the apostle Paul says, crucifying Christ again because I was only pretending this stuff was real, and only when it was convenient for me (see Hebrews 6:4-6).

Then, out of nowhere came the idea to live on the streets. It was really just a mental picture of me sitting under a bridge, long hair, unkempt appearance, panhandling in order to survive. At that moment, I wondered what it would be like if I was the homeless man in my head and I happened to encounter the falsely pious me, the guy who had only recently awoken from his mid-sermon slumber. If I was hungry and met someone like me, would my need be met? Or would the person simply walk away and leave me, stomach growling, frustrated and jaded by the people who merely said they believed in unconditional love?

Tough questions. Questions I couldn't shake.

Actually deciding to become homeless didn't happen quickly. Rather, it was the result of more than a year and a half of thought, research, planning, prayer, and preparation. Over the course of the next sixteen months, between January of my freshman year and May of my sophomore year, I poured over other people's research, volunteered at the local rescue mission, and did everything I knew to do to get ready for the journey I felt compelled to take.

In the spring of my sophomore year, I awoke late one evening, absolutely horrified by the realization that this crazy journey was actually going to happen, but that I had been proceeding on my own, without seeking wise counsel as the Bible instructs (see Proverbs 19:20).

The next day I began forming an official board of advisers, asking professors, pastors, rescue-mission presidents, and other men close to me to form a group and act as advisers in preparation for this journey. Surprisingly, they all agreed, and my council was formed. These men proved to be instrumental in helping me set my goals and plan out the details of the journey.

But as the departure date drew nearer, one big puzzle piece was still missing: someone to journey with. (Only a fool journeys alone. Frodo had Sam Gamgee, right?) Most of the guys I'd asked to join me couldn't quite catch the vision. Imagine that! Hey, anybody want to go hang out under a bridge in the rain with me? Others who were interested had been advised against the idea by their counsel. I had actually surrendered to the idea of going alone when I met Sam.

Sam happened to be in Santa Barbara visiting his older brother. One afternoon he came to see friends on my campus, where I ran into him. After a short game of Frisbee, Sam and I started talking about my crazy idea. Miraculously, Sam was interested. We agreed to each pray about traveling together, seek counsel, and then talk again in two weeks.

I'll never forget the excitement in Sam's voice when he called. Let's do this! he said as soon I answered. I had my traveling partner.

The end of my sophomore year came all too quickly. The last few days between taking my final exams and packing for the drive home, I was furiously e-mailing my advisers, making last-minute preparations, and finalizing plans.