The robed stranger

For the past month, I've noticed a tall white man with a long brown beard (Gandalf style) wearing a blue robe walking around inside the library and nearby it. I had seen him at least 6 times, at various places, and always wanted to approach him, because I suspected he was a Christian, and also homeless, and had seen him with a little travelers Bible. Finally, after getting some grub inside Fatima, I noticed him sitting in the seating outside the doors and determined to introduce myself. He smiled warmly and offered me a seat as we talked about our lives. He was older than I suspected--about 35 (when I thought he was in his late 20's.) He had previously been a truck driver, back east, but felt God was calling him to walk prophetically as a homeless evangelist. He has spent time street preaching, and even challenging authorities with the word of God, i.e. he once went to WB and told the security guard that he'd like to speak to the manager, and when someone came out, he calmly told him that WB needed to repent of making shows that were displeasing to God, and had a gracious conversation about it for a couple minutes. The impression I got of his preaching is that it is usually one on one, and is very gracious--he'll calmly ask people to repent and talk about Jesus with them. This is the style of street confrontation that I would feel most comfortable with doing myself. Stephen (perhaps he was named after the first martyr--indeed he has a desire to be martyred for his faith) spends most of his time during the day praying and reading and talking with people. As we were chatting together in the early evening, several people walked by and greeted him by name. One of them, named Jerry, sat down and talked with us for a while, and Stephen noticed that he had a black bag with pornographic magazines in it. Stephen calmly mentioned to him that it was not pleasing to God for him to view women in that way, and he immediately got very defensive, explaining how he believed that it was ok to masturbate and use pornography, and how he used to be involved in the normal entertainment industry, but couldn't cut it, so now he was trying to get into the porn industry. We calmly shared with him that he couldn't continue in this and still have a viable relationship with Jesus, and I shared from personal experience how sexual sin has cut me off from God. Sadly, he didn't accept our concerns in the moment, but I hope that the Holy Spirit will convict him from the conversation. I was really encouraged to be with Stephen--I felt like we had very similar values in sharing Christ with others. For example, Stephen mentioned after our conversation with Jerry how much he appreciated that I wasn't offended by Jerry's "colorful" language.

The Invitation

"Come here to me." Amazing! Yes, human compasion does indeed do something for those who labor and are burdened. We feed the hungry, clothe the naked, give charity, build charitable organizations, and if the compassion is really heartfelt, we also visit those who are downtrodden. But to invite them to come to one, that is something that is not so easily done. It would mean that your household and way of life would be completely changed. To invite them in this way would mean to live together in entirely the same manner. You would have to become poor, sharing completely the same conditions as those who are distressed and burdened.
This invitation can only be made by changing your own conditions, so they are in keeping with theirs, provided that your life is not already like theirs, as was the case with him who says, "Come here to me, all you who labor and are burdened."
From Provocations, a collection of the spiritual writings of Soren Kierkegaard

Earth has no Sorrow

Recently I've been listening to a song by the Vigilantes of Love that I can't get enough of. I love songs that convey struggle--a deep, earnest struggle between sorrow and joy, life and death, peace and war. Here are the lyrics:

it's time to get the lash it's time to get the rope
sharpen the razor grab the microscope
it won't be pretty when they cut the tether
sometimes you lose your address to find your shelter

why is joy something i must steal
starving skeletons looking for a meal
out in the graveyard the church bells peal
earth has no sorrow heaven can't heal

i bought a crap detector it emptied all my savings
it's got a hair trigger feel for the slightest provocation
not there to spill blood or judge out of line
it's just a modern convenience to save you some time

johnny says to sarah as he takes her by the hand
"i hear angels 'cross that river in beulahland"
the waters are cold and they're deep my friend
i'm going down down down and coming up again
i'm checking my closets since i don't know when
surely life is more than learning how to live with your skeletons
wind swing low whisper in my ears
wind swing low dry these tears

From Paul the Walker

This a quote from Paul's blog (a guy I met at a community out near Chicago called Reba Place--he had spent many years traveling around the US by faith, trusting God and His people to provide for him along the road), in which he describes his opiniont of Jesus' method of transforming the world grassroots:


“Instead of taking the position of "good overlord," he went directly to the bottom, to the people who were oppressed, and showed them how to be free. Not by changing the world around them, but by helping them to change themselves. By showing them the power of faith. So the poor and weak could face their oppressors without fear and refuse to beg from them or be controlled by their threats, obeying only God, their loving Father."

http://cimarronline.blogspot.com

Night Cats

He was walking a couple feet in front of me, shaggy hair down to his shoulders, looked like he was mixed, and he stomped his feet in front of a young cat, causing it to run under a nearby metallic black fence. "You don't like cats?" I queried, about two meters behind him.
"I love cats--I just wanted him to be safe--it's not safe on these streets," he responded, with a warm, somewhat deeper voice that immediately conveyed to me his goodwill for the cat, and for his neighbor. We chatted for a bit about cats, and he mentioned to me that there was a whole family of cats who lived in the park a block away, so we casually strolled over there, sharing bits and pieces of our separate lives. I was overjoyed to see a cat hanging out by the fence of the park (it's locked at night) and we continued our conversation, which now moved onto more spiritual matters. He has been a follower of Jesus for several years, after traveling to Europe, and living homelessly there and in the US, where he met Jesus through some loving people at the Los Angeles Mission. He plans to leave in a couple of days in order to do a sixth month stint at a program outside the city (he confessed he has been taking consolation in drinking, more recently. After a little while, an older lady came next to the park, pushing her large grocery cart brimming with her stuff, and dropped a large pile of cat food past the wrought iron gate for the cats to feed on--and they came--probably five or six of them at various sizes. Ben called her "mama" and introduced me to her. She was hunched over and when I talked with her after Ben left, she seemed to be somewhat senile. The parts of what she said that I could make out broke my heart--how she had been "sodomized" when she was homeless, but now stayed inside. I bade my farewell, after she said she had to leave because she had a busy night, and might not get much sleep (I have no idea what she was going to be doing). I hope to see the cats, and Ben, and Mama, again.

Moving from Azusa street

Three nights ago, I was woken up by one of the quasi cops (the city hires people who wear purple shirts to go around downtown to help out the cops) who told me that I wouldn't be allowed to sleep there anymore due to an increased number of break-ins in the area (because I wasn't technically sleeping in the appropriate sleeping zone for the homeless in downtown). I'm bummed, because I really enjoyed sleeping on Azusa street--it was a little secluded, it was easy to attach my bag to a nearby pole, and it has sentimental value to me now (partially due to the fact that the Pentecostal revival happened on that street back in the day). I'm not sure where I'm gonna sleep tonight, but I'll find somewhere different--I've got a lot of options!

Money, Sacrifice, and Institutionalism

Last night I had a great night playing Settlers of Catan with my old roommates Jeremy and Charlton at Charlton's place he shares with his wife Theresa in Pasadena. After playing a rousing game (it was anyone's game at the end, which made it more exciting) we got into an interesting discussion concerning our discipleship among the poor. I had mentioned briefly a conversation I had had with two other friends about how we should interpret and live out Jesus' imperative to "give to everyone who begs of you," in Luke, and different ways that may look like. I shared some stories about my experience with the homeless of LA, and how, though most of the people who asked me for money were drug addicts, there were still some who I helped financially who were legitimately in need for food or other necessities. Just yesterday, as I was just about ready to hop on the elevator to the gold line train station, I was stopped by a young black man about my age who asked for help--a buck or two to help him out. I pulled out my earphones, and looked him directly in the face, seeking to engage him on a deeper level, and I found out that he had recently come to LA, and was dealing with the criminal justice system--in and out of jail, and was currently homeless. After a couple minutes I decided to give him five dollars from my pocket, and he was extremely grateful, gushing about how difficult it was for him here in LA and how he would sleep on the trains and avoid the skid row area because it was unsafe. We ended up talking for almost thirty minutes after I gave him the money and some granola bars, and I believe that the act of trusting him with money, not just with food, helped him to open up more with me and we actually had a relatively deep connection. Hopefully he calls me back later (I gave him my phone and email address). Although in the past, I've been burned by people who have fed me stories just to get me to give them some cash for drugs, who ran off as soon as the money was in their hands, I have come to believe that even if the majority of people who ask for help may be struggling with substance abuse doesn't mean that we should never give financial help to those who ask for it.
Anyhew, the discussion led us to discuss the merits and defects of giving to Christian nonprofits as opposed to directly giving to people in need. My friend, Charlton, expressed to us some of his frustrations in working at one of the Christian homeless rescue missions downtown. He is one of the IT staff there, and is often asked to produce reports and to crunch numbers for the other staff. He mentioned how much money he sees going into the basic upkeep of the shelter, rather than into the programs they are seeking to help the homeless with. It seems this is the basic problem with institutions in general--what was started as something good and helpful to people sometimes becomes a monster that requires the sacrifice of time, money, and energy in work that has little of anything to do with simple acts of service to the poor. My other friend shared about how he has learned from his ministry in a young church plant in the neighborhood of Lincoln Heights, a low income neighborhood of LA that has it's share of gangs. He mentioned how difficult it is to be wise with giving in their context as well. The family that they have given the most financial help to has ended up being the family who is least interested in following Jesus, but still wants to stay in contact with the church because of their financial help. My friend mentioned that he believed that they were being faithful to God's call in giving the money away, and had spent much time in prayer, seeking God's direction. It was simply a reminder that a simple giving of money away to the poor is not as easy as it sounds. I also shared a story of Jackie Pullinger, who is a missionary to the slums of Hong Kong. An aquaintance of hers, a prostitute came to her in desperation because she was being sold into sex slavery due to her large debt she owed, and needed a large sum of money to pay off her debt. Jackie prayed about it, and believed God was asking her to give up her most prized possession, her violin (or clarinet, I can't remember what instrument) that she used to play in the Hong Kong symphony. Although it was a very difficult sacrifice for her (she had long lived by faith, trusting God for her daily needs, and the instrument was the only thing of value left that she owned), she was obedient to God's leading in her life, and sold the instrument to buy back the girl from her "owner." The gang boss told her that it was a futile thing for her to do, because the girl would eventually go back to her old ways sometime down the road. Although Jackie knew this could happen, she also knew that just like Jesus died for the world, knowing not all would accept His sacrifice for them, so also would she sacrifice her prized possession for the girl without knowing whether the girl would truly change or not. Similarly, I have come to the belief that giving and love should not be based on our limited knowledge of the worthiness or unworthiness of the person recieving or love or gift. We all are so much in need of grace. I close with a quote from Kahlil Gibran from his poem The Prophet in a section called "Giving."
You often say, "I would give, but only to the deserving."

"The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pasture.

They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish.

Surely he who is worthy to receive his days and his nights is worthy of all else from you.

And he who has deserved to drink from the ocean of life deserves to fill his cup from your little stream."