The schedule said: 'Roll call, 5:00 a.m. Meet at vehicles, leave for Union Rescue Mission.' I'm not a morning person. It's widely known (at least among family) that it's best to let dad have an hour and a half of quiet with coffee and the Scripture before he should be allowed to speak to anyone, or be spoken to. O.K.-I'm grumpy in the morning. I admit it. I'm not 'that guy' who wakes up each morning greeting the sun and embracing the created order with joy, and barring a miracle, probably will never be that guy-and I've accepted that.
So 5:00 a.m. roll call meant more than just showing up first at the vehicle. It meant being up by 4:00 so I could shower and do something to get my blood flowing, spend some time with God, ask for help I would obviously need. It meant that somehow I would need to get down to the vehicles early and be at least a moderately alert and pleasant voice of calmness as well as provide a measure of somewhat coherent leadership to a large group of students who, I assumed, would likewise be fairly sleepy and groggy. I was excited to go to Union, but must admit, I would have preferred the lunch shift, but this was our assignment.
I tried to be strategic about the whole thing, knowing myself on little sleep. Somehow I would also need to have coffee, but no place was open at that hour. I know-my lack of spirituality is showing-I shouldn't need caffeine. There, it's out of the way. But the night before, at the local grocery store I found a bag of chocolate covered espresso beans. One serving equaled one cup of espresso. There were three servings in the bag. I wondered if that would be enough...seriously, I'm that bad in the morning.
To add to it, there was this element of being tested for the first time. Two and a half weeks earlier I was in the hospital for something called neuro syncope, which is a fancy way of saying I have this really low blood pressure and an enlarged lower chamber in my heart (ironically due to a lot of exercising) and the combination of the two can sometimes cause this wonderful reaction called passing out. Four days in that hospital and a week of hanging loose and resting at home. My heart is in great condition, it's just that I have this weird thing and there are certain things that can trigger it: Dehydration (so I get to drink at least one Gatorade a day), and lack of sleep are two big triggers. So, here I am my little fridge stockpiled with Gatorades, Smart Water and this bag of chocolate espresso beans. I'm really not interested in finding out what it might be like to go 'lights out' at Union.
So I fell asleep around 12:30 a.m., thinking that I would wake up around 4:00, drink my ginormous G 2 Grape Gatorade and crunch that bag of espresso beans, shower (cold shower) spend some time with God and hopefully be moderately alert.
Turns out, God decided it would be good for me to wake up at 3:23. I remember looking at my watch and thinking, 'honestly, why try to go back to sleep?' (Oh, did I mention I also have insomnia-and if I ever wake up in the middle of the night I can't fall back asleep? Yeah, that too). So, I sat up, turned on the light in my little dorm room and started drinking purple Gatorade and eating chocolate espresso beans-the breakfast of champions. I did get to spend more time with God than I previously planned (and frankly, there was a lot of asking Him to just let me stay upright while there) and after that, had a marvelously cold shower and made my way down to the vehicles.
Everyone was tired, and there was a collective sense of "what are we getting in to?" that was almost palpable. But the students, to their credit, were soon alert, at least I know the ones in my vehicle were. I am guessing part of their alertness was related to this learned fear they had of me getting lost and us missing our appointment. But we arrived, all together, no one lost-and our adventure began.
Skid Row in the morning is not like Santa Monica beach in the morning. We saw people asleep on the pavement, some others slowly milling around, starting their day. We entered the underground parking at Union. We took the elevator up and from there, we were introduced to a new world.
We checked in at the security station and were told to go to the kitchen. We shuffled down the hallway, some residents were already up and moving around. Once in the kitchen, we were assigned our duties and the work began.
We were broken into groups. We did everything from chop food to butter bread. We were making both breakfast as well as starting lunch. It was a whirlwind of activity. The crew chief ran a tight ship. One of the assistants, Brian, also a resident, was 'that guy' -one of those individuals who was energized and simply glad to be alive on this morning. His enthusiasm was contagious. While the crew chief kept people moving and things rolling (and honestly, he was a big man and a bit gruff-he scared most of us into staying focused and moving quickly), but Brian joyfully, enthusiastically and energetically did his work and somehow found time to make the rounds to tell jokes. He had this epic Pirate joke that was exceptionally funny at 6:45 a.m. but I can't remember it, just his pirate voice, which was in and of itself hilarious.
Time flew. Before we knew it, our shift was over-9:15...I went to meet Mindy, this remarkable young woman who coordinates the volunteers at Union. She would give us our tour. While I went by her office, the students stuck around and had breakfast with some of the residents. I was so blessed by their willingness to jump in and not only work with the residents of Union, but also spend casual time with them, talking about God, life, and listening to stories. Our students are simply amazing.
Mindy was out of the office when I first arrived. I was told she would return in about 20 minutes. At that moment, I had this compelling urge to go outside, to be on the streets, to talk with someone, to listen. I can't explain it-I just knew I needed to go by myself. I found a Union security officer and asked if I could go outside to talk to people, or just listen to people. He gave me this strange look, the kind of look that said, 'Now why would you want to go out there?" But I assured him I would be smart and he eventually decided to let me go. We walked down a hallway where some of the male residents were showering and another hallway where some male residents were just hanging around. I am extremely aware at this point that I don't look like I belong here. Nonetheless, I have to go outside.
He opens a door and shows me the inner courtyard. "It's safer in here. You can talk to people in here. Outside, don't really want you going outside." And he left.
And there I am.
In the male part of the courtyard I see... I don't know how many men, of various ages and ethnic backgrounds. Some are asleep. Some are sitting still, as if the life had been sucked out of them, some are talking (talking to others, a few to themselves). At that point I figured the only thing to do was to just ask God to show me who to go to, who to talk to. Part of me wondered, 'did I really think this through? What am I supposed to say, 'It's going to be O.K.?" or "I understand?'"
I made the rounds so to speak. Some did not want to talk. Some did. Some of the conversations I did not understand because some I spoke to were living in this alternative reality. But there was one, his name was William. William is a black man in his 50's. He saw me and asked me "Are you a preacher?" I told him 'no...I'm a minister, but really I'm just here to see how you are doing." Our conversation didn't last long-but he was polite and asked me to pray for his situation. I checked my watch and examined the growing crowd outside the courtyard. Again, something compelled....
I wasn't supposed to do this, but again, I just had to know what it was like, what might be out there, who might be out there...and the walk on the street from the male courtyard to the other entrance at the female courtyard (and back into the building) wasn't that long, so I took my first solo steps out on Skid Row.
To say I could identify with the people milling around would be disingenuous. But God gave a sense of peace and I started walking down the section of the street to the other entrance. I said hello to a few people, anyone who would look me in the eye, and some returned the greeting. One man in particular asked me if I could get him food inside. I asked him if he wanted to come in. He said, 'No...don't want to check in there." I knew I couldn't bring him food outside. I tried to encourage him to check in, but he started to walk away.
The smell of marijuana wafted by.
I asked him if I could pray for him. He said, 'sure.' So we prayed for a moment and soon after the prayer he wandered off, disappearing into the crowds. I wonder what happened to him. I stood there for a brief moment soaking in what I was seeing. Hopelessness and Despair were tangible. Like a dark cloud hanging over the streets. It was etched on so many faces. Tired, beaten down, worn out, disillusioned...the forgotten, the left behind, the least of these.
My need for caffeine and Gatorade seemed really trivial in that moment. I had a new perspective on my sense of 'feeling tired and wiped out.' There were people all over who had long ago given up or been given up on. My problems are small.
I went back to Mindy's office and she was there to greet me. She is an amazing young woman. She has a degree from a great university and she yet she has chosen to serve on Skid Row, to work at Union, to make a difference. I'm sure she has many peers who are 'carving out their names' and 'climbing the corporate ladder'-but Mindy has chosen a different path towards 'greatness'-she's descended into it. Reminds me of Philippians 2.
She's been there almost four years. Beautiful heart, and an old soul for someone in her 20's. She's seen more and experienced more than most people her age, or older for that matter. Still, the love of Christ is evident in her, and tired or not, she radiates grace.
She gathers the group and we tour the facility. Union is an amazing place with programs and housing and treatment and training for individuals and families. Mindy explains all that Union does as we follow her down each hallway, up each floor.
After an hour of seeing this place and learning more about what Union is doing to address the homeless situation in Los Angeles, a city with a homeless population greater than New York City and Chicago combined, I am even more amazed by her and the other people who have willingly chosen to invest their lives in this ministry. These are not the 'rock stars' of Christianity-not a part of the 'cult of personality'-they aren't known by many for what they do, they are not 'famous' like some preachers or ministers, but their lives, and that includes Mindy's life, speaks volumes. Quietly going about this business of serving with no fanfare and little recognition.
Once our group is on the roof of Union, we are able to look down and see the masses wandering around the area. Some are seeking shelter, some seeking just to survive another day. As we took all of this in, I glanced at Mindy and I thought I picked up on something I can only call a sense of soul-weariness. I asked her, "Mindy, can we pray for you?" I didn't know how that came out, so I tried to qualify: 'I'm guessing you get tired sometimes. You see a lot. The people, they just keep coming and coming and coming. I would imagine it would be easy sometimes to just feel overwhelmed by it all."
She responds well. Yes, we can pray for her. And our students, with the fantastic hearts they have, immediately gathered around her and we prayed for her. She truly seemed to appreciate it.
I think we all need that. Whenever you are serving people, whether on Skid Row or in any other context, sometimes you just get worn out. We all need a bit of encouragement from time to time. I encourage you to pray for Mindy. To me-she's like an evangelical Mother Teresa. I'm sure she'd appreciate your prayers. She's doing remarkable work.
So our time is over, but again, I feel compelled to ask for something. I ask Mindy if our students can go out into the courtyards to pray for and listen and talk to some of the people 'out there.' We are given permission.
I don't remember if I asked the students if they wanted to do this. Maybe I did. I just wanted them to get out of the security of that building and see what I saw, and to see how God might use them.
So we went. Females to the female side. Males to the male side.
The crowds had grown since my little solo excursion. At this time I was more concerned with watching out for the safety of the group. I'm playing 'dad' now. I talk to some people, but I'm doing a lot of watching, checking to make sure our students are safe and fine.
They are amazing. I see some of our guys talking to men two to three times their age. I see some praying with a man. I see others sharing Christ. I see others simply sitting down next to a man and listening. I slip into the building and peep outside the female side of the courtyard. I see our young women doing the same. No fear. No hesitation. They are engaged. They are declaring and demonstrating Christ's love. It is beautiful.
Making my way down the street towards the male section I once again smell marijuana, and this time a large security officer from Union comes out and with a booming voice tells the men in the area, 'I told you guys to knock it off, there's gonna be trouble.' I soon learn what he means. Within five minutes a police car pulls up, siren blaring, and a young man in his late 20's is arrested. People start to scatter. The security officer gives me that 'get your people out of here before things get really ugly' look. I start gathering our males back into the courtyard (much like me, several of them wanted to talk to the people on the outside), and we start wrapping our time at Union up.
But before we leave, there are still students talking, listening, praying...just being there. And there are a few residents of Skid Row with smiles on their faces, glad that someone came down to where they were to talk with them, to spend a moment with them, to meet them where they are in life and to speak Hope, Truth, Love and Grace into their lives. It's what followers of Christ should be known for. I was blessed beyond measure as I watched them.
And as we left Union, I was reminded of One who left the Splendors of Heaven, took on flesh, lived in poverty, walked among us, identified with us, and ultimately laid His life down for us that we might live. The One who came to set the captives free. The One who, I am sure if He were physically walking around right now would be walking around Skid Row.
As you read this rather rambling story about our time at Union and our first experience with Skid Row, you need to know that there is no way I could tell every story. This is a very truncated version. There were so many people, so many stories...and as you read this story, it is easy to grasp the despair and hopelessness that is there on Skid Row-but it's not just the homeless wandering aimlessly on Skid Row that Jesus came to set free. It's people like you and me as well. All of us in bondage to sin and death. All of us in need of redemption. None of us able to deliver ourselves.
You see, Skid Row is a geographical location. It is also a spiritual condition-and the Good News is that He has come to Rescue us, and to me that is the Greatest Rescue Mission in Human History.
* Note: I would love to post pictures from Skid Row. However, none of the ministries we worked with allowed us to do so, for understandable reasons-these are people, real people, like you and me, not attractions. For more information on this aspect of a ministry we connected with, Google Union Rescue Mission, Los Angeles.
No comments:
Post a Comment