Susie Jennings pulled on a wig, a grungy T-shirt and pants and stuffed a few items in a tote bag. Then she drove to downtown Dallas, parked her car, and shut the door on her comfortable middle-class world. Stepping into the November chill, the registered nurse melded into a makeshift community of 100 homeless men, women, and teenagers who camped out around the parking garage at First Presbyterian Church.

Like her companions on the street, Jennings walked around aimlessly, burning time. She lined up for handouts of food and clothing. One homeless man proposed to her; others attempted to ply protection in exchange for sex. As night closed in Jennings fished cardboard out of a dumpster to fashion a crude sleeping pallet. She lay down beside a female crack addict who was visited by her drug dealer at 2:30 a.m.

It was cold that night in November 2007, with only a thin layer of cardboard between her and the concrete, and Jennings’ neighbor, the crack addict, creeped her out with her erratic behavior and anxious pacing.

Jennings admits she was scared; she never even came close to falling asleep. The only relief that night was when a young adults group from a Dallas church came by at midnight to offer sandwiches and prayer. Their light, Jennings noticed, pushed away the darkness for a few moments.

At 5:15 a.m. a security guard ordered Jennings and the other homeless out of their “camp.” Jennings’ ordeal would soon end, but she’d gotten a glimpse of what it was like for the hundreds of Dallas-area homeless who lived that way every day. God had impressed on her heart to spend a night with the homeless, and by now, Jennings had learned simply to obey.

“Though I faced laughing countenances,” Jennings wrote of her experiences that night, “I saw in their eyes loneliness, pain, suffering, and fears of what is to come. Now I have more respect for them. I want to reach out even more and help them choose a different route in life—a life with Jesus, a life filled with hope and love.”

As the founder and president of the nonprofit Operation Care Dallas, Jennings, 52 and a member of Dallas’ First Baptist Church, has applied a radical faith to meeting the physical and spiritual needs of the homeless since 1993. Jennings still works full-time as a nurse supervisor at Baylor University Medical Center and accepts no salary from Operation Care Dallas, yet she will host a Christmas Party for the homeless on December 19 from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. that is expected to draw more than 10,000 visitors and 2,000 volunteers to the Dallas Convention Center.

This year’s theme is “freedom,” and Jennings will bring together homeless veterans and the “giver of freedom”—Jesus Christ. The veterans will participate in a military color guard with active soldiers from all branches of the armed services. The party will also feature Jennings’ trademark: foot-washing, followed by clean socks and new shoes for the homeless. A series of stations will offer personal items, haircuts, eyeglasses, dental exams, legal help, job counseling, and a place where the guests can make free telephone calls to their families. Jennings envisions the event as an opportunity to present the very best to homeless men and women, treating them like “kings and queens” for a day—with live entertainment, Krispy Kreme doughnuts, Starbucks coffee, and a hot meal. Evangelism teams from area churches will be on hand to pray and minister to the guests one-on-one. Because of the economic crisis, Jennings expects a greater turnout than last year’s 10,000. The homeless will camp out at the Convention Center’s doors for hours before the party begins, she says.

To carry out Operation Care’s ministry to the homeless, Jennings frequently operates on five hours of sleep and works every weekend speaking to churches and civic groups in addition to her work in the streets. She is fueled by joy—that’s the only way she can keep at it her body becomes tired, she says. “I have joy. I cannot stop. I know it is the passion in me. I know the Lord will give me the strength I need.

“I want to make sure that when I get to heaven, God will say, ‘well done,’” she continues. “I don’t need any accolades. Jesus is the star of his show.”

Nothing in Jennings’ early years presaged a life devoted to the homeless. Growing up in the Philippines, in fact, Susie Jennings literally hated them. Her mother invited homeless men into her home, and as a little girl Susie couldn’t stand how they ate her food, occupied her space, and stole her mother’s attentions. “I was proud and arrogant,” she says. “God called me to a ministry I despised.”

A personal tragedy launched her into ministry, but her hard heart toward the homeless didn’t change instantly, Jennings says. In 1993, her husband of nine years didn’t return home one day. David Jennings suffered from a chemical imbalance called serotonin deficiency, and some recent changes in his life had made the depression associated with this condition worse. Thirty days later, police found David’s body in a secluded part of Atoka, Oklahoma. He had driven there and taken his own life.

Susie, who lived with David in Dallas, cried out to God. He miraculously healed her from her grief, she says. But when her next-door neighbor committed suicide several months later, Susie had “so many” questions. “I got upset with God,” she says. “I asked him, ‘Why would you allow that to happen?’ That night, God gave me a vision of knocking on my neighbor’s doors and telling them about Jesus.”

Not long afterward, Jennings asked God, “Lord, what can I do for you?”

She got her answer one day—and it wasn’t what she’d bargained for.

Jennings was driving downtown after teaching Sunday school “when I heard a voice so loud,” speaking to her heart, she says. “Look at your left side,” the voice commanded. Jennings did, and saw 100 homeless men and women living under the Canton Street bridge in cardboard boxes. “You are going to go there in person,” the voice continued.

No, not me, Jennings protested. Those are crazy people—lunatics—and they’re violent, she told God.

The voice responded, “You are the one who asked me what can I do.” Jennings says she immediately sensed the conviction of the Holy Spirit, and she asked God to forgive her. What can I give to these needy people? she asked.

“Blankets,” she heard clearly. Then the voice disappeared.

“Never ask God what can I do for you,” Jennings says. “He will take you out of your comfort zone.”

The very next day, she began collecting $5 from her hospital colleagues to purchase blankets. She returned to the bridge a month later, in November 1993, and distributed 100 blankets. She and others also evangelized one-on-one, and several homeless people “found hope in Jesus,” she says in a personal testimony on her Web site, www.operationcaredallas.org. They returned with blankets and ministry just before Christmas, and from this project Operation Care was eventually birthed.

Operation Care has grown over the years to host four or five annual events for the homeless, including a Thanksgiving outreach providing clothing, personal care products, and Bibles at homeless shelters and on the street. At the same time, volunteers will distribute fliers for this year’s Christmas Party. Recently, Jennings has expanded Operation Care internationally—feeding hundreds of homeless and street children in the Philippines and India. Jennings says more than 91 percent of Operation Care’s budget goes directly to homeless ministry.

Jennings looks forward to the day when she can leave her nursing job and commit full-time to Operation Care. Until then, she works long hours by “God’s grace—it is only amazing grace.” God continues to pull her deeper into ministry, nudging her ever farther from her comfort zone. She has seen some of the homeless people she’s encountered get jobs, establish a relationship with Jesus Christ, and get off the streets. Somewhere along the way, she says, she even lost her sense of smell around the homeless—something that used to repulse her. Not all of her efforts have resulted in stirring testimonials, however. She befriended a homeless female crack addict, even though the woman turned on her one day and screamed that she was “using” the homeless for publicity. “I never felt so horrible in all my life,” Jennings says. “But that did not stop me from loving her. “Who am I to judge the homeless?” she says. “I am just as sinful as they.” Jennings says that God has taken a “broken vessel”—a grief-stricken widow—and made her into a “beautiful creation” with a “mended heart” for the homeless. “I despised them,” she says. “Now I cry for them.” Operation Care Dallas is looking for volunteers and other assistance for the 2009 Christmas Party. You can find information on how to help and sign up as a volunteer by clicking on “Service Opportunities” at www.operationcaredallas.org.