Randy (Lurch)

Last Thursday, I was hanging out in Pasadena after being dropped off at Trader Joes so I could buy some cereal (thankfully, I'm gonna be able to store cereal and milk at the after school program I volunteer at so that I don't have to spend as much money on food), and I decided to see whether a certain 3$ theatre trully existed. I got off of the gold line train at the Lake station, had dinner at a teryaki place, and waltzed down Lake, until I hit Colorado. I knew it was somewhere along Colorado, and found it a while later. I was shocked how cheap it was, but also how old the movies were--about 2 months old or so most of them, but it was still a great deal--only two dollars for matinee, and three for evening tickets. I was waiting for the showing of Iron Man, (though I had seen it before, I was quite bored) and a guy walked up to me and sat down on the bench next to me. I asked him how he was doing, as he looked a little dirty, and tired. He told me not so well, and that he was hungry. I told him I could help him out with a meal, so we walked over to the other side of the street, rather dangerously, as he boldly crossed without the signal of the little walking white man. He wanted to get Mexican food, so asked (more like told me) to go inside and order something for him while he would meet me outside across the street. I went in and found out the cheapest thing was seven dollars (and I only had five) so I met up with him and told him that I could instead buy him something from the Chinese place I had seen a couple blocks away. He waved his hand, motioning for me to let him think, and he asked whether I could use a credit card, and I told him yes, if they'd let me. Then, knowing I only had five dollars cash on me, he asked whether I would let him hold on to the five dollars while I went and used my credit card to get him some shrimp fried rice. Apparently, he distrusted that I would actually come back with the food. "Alright, I'll let you hold onto it as a promise that I will be back, but I expect you to give it back to me when I come back." (I knew that there was a very good chance that the five dollars wouldn't be there when I got back, but I wanted to show him that I trusted him). Sure enough, when I came back fifteen minutes later with the fried rice, and asked for the five dollars, he apologized and told me that he had given the money to another guy to whom he owed money. (I had seen him with another guy before I came back.) "I'm pretty upset--you promised that you would give me back the five dollars. I don't really care about the money itself, but you broke my trust." We talked it over, and although I had a pretty good feeling that he still had the five dollars on him, and was lying to me, I decided not to ask the man who he was talking to earlier whether Randy had truly given him the five dollars. I wanted to convey to him my disappointment, but at the same time, I knew I wasn't really talking to Randy, but to the need for crack in his system. So I let it go and he asked me what I wanted to do. I suggested we go see a movie at the theatre, and he visibly got excited. We were about twenty minutes late to the movie, and we found out that they didn't accept credit cards, so I asked the lady behind the counter whether she would let Randy in without pay and I would come back with enough money for the two of us--and she allowed it! The movie was an experience--Randy kept on talking out loud and laughing uproariously, until he calmed down a bit when another moviegoer asked him kindly to keep the noise level down. Two thirds through the showing, he was asleep, and I woke him up to leave the theatre. I hung out with him for a while outside, and he shared how he saw his father shoot his mother in front of him when he was only 7. He still hasn't forgiven his dead father for what he did and who he was. By the end of the conversation, Randy had confided to me that he didn't really have anyone else that he considered a true friend--they were all other crack addicts or prostitutes. I gave him my number, and he promised to call me the next day. He did finally call about a week later--and I asked him how I could pray for him. He asked for prayer that God would save his soul! The conversation was quick because he was borrowing a phone from someone else, but I'm hoping and praying that God will save his soul, and more.

To End All Wars

I was reminded of one of my favorite movies "To End All Wars" as I was reading Philip Yancey's book "Rumors of Another World." It's about a British officer named Ernest Gordon, who was captured by Japanese soldiers during World War 2 ("the war to end all wars," hence the name of the movie) and forced to do manual work in a prisoner of war camp to help build a railroad line. Over 80,000 men died during the construction of the track, of sickness, starvation, and being shot. Naturally, the bloody realities of the camp led to a spirit of competition and every man for himself. Yet God's spirit was moving beyond the understanding of any of them--for a singular event happened which catalyzed a movement of unity that is practically unmatched in the history of human struggle. During roll call one day it was discovered that a shovel was missing, and the guards asked who had stolen the shovel. When no one answered, the guards threatened to kill them all, until one man from the line of men stood forward, claiming, "I did it." The angry guard quickly fell on him with blows all over his body, but he still stood to attention. Enraged, the guard crashed his rifle butt down on his skull, and he fell down, dead. This event had an unexpected result among the prisoners--one of them remembered the words of Jesus--"Greater love has no one than this that he lay down his life for his friends," and the whole direction of the camp changed. Instead of fighting and stealing, the men began to live sacrificially for one another. Gordon felt the direct effects of this as his comrades helped revive him when he had become so sick he was on the verge of death. One exchanged his personal watch for some medicine to help him with his fever. The men were now living in spiritual community that no ruthless guard could take away from them. By the end, when they were finally freed, the men treated the sadistic guards with love and kindness instead of revenge. I like the way Yancey uses the miracle of this POW camp to illustrate the way the church is in the world--
"In the soil of this violent, disordered world, an alternate community may take root. It lives in hope of a day of liberation. In the meantime, it aligns itself with another world, not just spreading rumors but planting settlements-in-advance of that coming reign."

Loneliness

“Solitude is the profoundest fact of the human condition. Man is the only being who knows he is alone"
--Octavio Paz

I was lonely yesterday. In my sojourn among the homeless of skid row, I've spent alot of time alone--perhaps more time than I've ever spent in my life. I love people--love connecting with people, smiling and laughing with them. Yet, I've come to realize that my times with people are worthless unless I know what it means to be alone. So I'm grateful for God is teaching me through these days--that when I'm lonely, He is the only one who really can satisfy my hunger for appreciation and praise and company. I still remember towards the end of my time in the Servant Partners internship when my intern director, Kevin Blue, mentioned that loneliness was a common aspect of ministry in the city. And I also remember talking with Brad at a recent wedding that as he gets older, he finds increasingly fewer people who are walking a similar path--not getting caught up in the materialistic flow of western church culture. But last night I talked for a while with a brother who was running from God for three years--and now has seen God answer his prayers as he has given up all to follow. He is going to be teaching kids in Baltimore, starting Monday, and he doesn't even know where he's going to live! God is good :)

Praise of men

I was listening to a sermon by John Piper about fasting--he was sharing about the passage which says that we should not anounce our fasting to the world to prove that we are more spiritual. Fasting becomes a hypocritical act if it is done for the audience of others because it proves that we are hungering for acceptance from others rather than the praise of the One. This applies not only to fasting but to every good thing we do in the world.

Does God always satisfy the need of our souls?

One common danger that Larry Crabb points out in his book The Papa Prayer is a tendency to think that blessings from God satisfy our souls more deeply than God Himself. "The problem, of course, is that our relationship with God is so shallow that the pleasure it brings really is less than the pleasure we feel when life goes well."
The second reason Larry warns against the deceitfulness of things outwardly going well in our lives is because frankly, truly and sincerely living for God doesn't always produce a warm feeling of joy and meaning. "In the moment...giving priority to our relationship with God may not produce the maximum satisfaction in our souls that we legitimately desire."

Seen written on the sidewalk

Rebel and Revolt
And join UPACT
United People Against Crimal Tactics
Regarding homeless persons on the NICKEL 5th street


I talked with the guy who wrote this--he tried to get me to join in his campaign of chaos by upturning public trash cans and ganging up on solo cops as I wheeled him around on his wheelchair two weeks ago.

Lament

Weep, weep for those
Who do the work of the Lord
With a high look
And a proud heart.
Their voice is lifted up
In the streets, and their cry is heard.
The bruised reed they break
By their great strength, and the smoking flax
They trample.

Weep not for the quenched
(For their God will hear their cry
And the Lord will come to save them)
But weep, weep for the quenchers

For when the Day of the Lord
Is come, and the vales sing
And the hills clap their hands
And the light shines

Then their eyes shall be opened
On a waste place,
Smouldering,
The smoke of the flax bitter
In their nostrils,
Their feet pierced
By broken reed-stems . . .
Wood, hay, and stubble,
And no grass springing.
And all the birds flown.

Weep, weep for those
Who have made a desert
In the name of the Lord.

by Evangeline Paterson

David

The other day I was walking to the library, and I was hailed by a skinny man with a cardboard sign which had "Looking for a miracle" on it. He asked me for a miracle, followed by, "even a small one." I told him I didn't have any cash on me, and then whether or not he wanted something to eat, mentioning that I could buy him something from the Carl's Junior down the street. He was excited about that, and I came back with a Big hamburger, a banana milkshake, and a spicy chicken sandwhich (which I got for myself). As we ate, he told me a little more--he didn't have any family in the area because he was an orphan from Cuba, and he had been on the streets for ten years, but avoided skid row area because of the danger. He told me there were warehouse jobs that were hiring, and he was hoping to get one. I gave him my number, and he told me that he would give me a call later.

Walking away without a name

As I was walking back from the library to Little Tokyo, I noticed a lady walking out of the library who was leaning over to one side as she walked, burdened by the four bags she was carrying. Although my sense of smell is quite weak, I could smell her as she walked by, and wondered when the last time she had a shower was. I took out my earphones, wanting to help her out somehow, but not knowing how to do so. I paused, looking at her as she shuffled off, wondering how someone as young as she ended up on the streets (she looked to be about 35 or younger). Remembering I had three dollars of Mcdonalds coupons with me, I caught up to her and asked her if she wanted them, and she thanked me and took them, speaking with an accent that sounded European. I wanted the conversation to continue, but I had nothing else to say, and she shuffled off, and I rolled my bag past her. I continued walking slowly a couple more blocks, thinking and praying about her. I let her catch up, and foolishly said, "That looks heavy" because I could think of nothing else to say. She walked on without saying a word, and I wondered what I could have said to her to assure her that I meant no harm and that I simply wanted to help, perhaps with a meal, or something else. I have realized that it is much harder for me to have a good conversation with someone out on the streets if I approach them, than if they approach me.

Comparisons

I was looking through a list of old quotes about living amongst the poor, and I came across this one by David Brainerd--
"Such fatigues and hardship as these serve to wean me more from the earth; and, I trust, will make heaven the sweeter. Formerly, when I was thus exposed to cold, rain, etc., I was ready to please myself with the thoughts of enjoying a comfortable house, a warm fire, and other outward comforts; but now these have less place in my heart (through the grace of God) and my eye is more to God for comfort. In this world I expect tribulation; and it does not now, as formerly, appear strange to me; I don't in such seasons of difficulty flatter myself that it will be better hereafter; but rather think how much worse it might be; how much greater trials others of God's children have endured; and how much greater are yet perhaps reserved for me. Blessed be God that he makes (=is) the comfort to me, under my sharpest trials, and scarce ever lets these thoughts be attended with terror or melancholy; but they are attended frequently with great joy."
I realize that most of the time, I compare myself with those who have more than me, not with those who have less. I may lay asleep at night and think of being on a nice warm bed, or I may think of those who are married and wish I had someone laying next to me, or a myriad of things that I could wish were different about my life. But what if I compared myself rather to those who had less--perhaps remembering those who suffer tortures for their love of Jesus, or those who have no sleeping bag as they lay asleep under the stars in the mean streets, perhaps then I'd realize how rich I am in so many ways.

Reggie

I was on my way to my daily washing and breakfast at the local Subway on Broadway and listening to the book of James on my CD player when I was hailed down for some change by a short man sitting in a little alcove. As I pulled out my earphones and responded to him, I noticed he had a sore, bleeding spot on the top of his forehead. He told me he had Aids and was hungry, and continued to share more of his story as I sat down next to him. I asked him about why he had rolled up peices of toilet paper in his ears, and he calmly told me that it was to keep the evil voices out of his head--voices telling him to be angry and upset with the way people sometimes ignored him, denying him even a single penny for food. I remember the way I have felt a similar angst when I've gone door to door raising money for a shelter and was rejected after finally barganning down from $150 to a cent. He shared more, how he was rejected by his family after the AIDS became full blown--I asked him if it was because they were scared of him, and he acknowledged the fact, putting his head in his face as he cried about his mother abandoning him only seven months ago. He had grown up always wanting to be a good kid, he said, and tried to pray hard and go to church and do all the right things, but his feelings for other guys wouldn't go away. He was told by church people that he would go to hell for feeling that way, but he just couldn't change.

Including people

One of the purposes of this blog is to help me get out some of my frustrations with myself. Recently, I was talking with an old college buddy and he mentioned to me that one of his frustrations with me was that when we were in a group together, he felt left out by me. It was more complicated than that, and there were other issues involved, but I think this must be one of my weaknesses because the same thing happened this weekend when I went on a camping trip with my coworkers from the LA Homeless Services Coalition. I spent most of my time hanging out with a couple new friends I just made, and neglected to make an intentional effort to spend time with some of my old friends, especially one in particular, who felt hurt by my lack of attention given to her. I am a little surprised by these two examples, because I had always prided myself in my ability to include people. But I'm so glad that I have recieved these warnings so close to eachother, so that by God's mercy I won't let something like this happen again. Yet I know I will, most likely, so I must cling to the One who never leaves any of us behind.

Christianity a kind of cruelty?

"If Christianity is to be preached in truth to those who are happy, to those who enjoy life, then Christianity is a kind of cruelty. This is why it is far easier to proclaim the consolation of Christianity--to cripples."
--Soren Kierkegaard