Life should be a prayer walk

Have you ever been on a prayer walk? Do you know what you’re supposed to do? I was asked these questions while venturing out of Potters to the streets of downtown Hastings. My answers: I really don’t know.

It is definitely a process of fumbling. I remember the first one I went out on; me and four girls, bible in hand. A man from the alleyway asks what we are doing. I respond, I don’t know. He says you must know something, you’re carrying a bible. I say I’m just kind of walking and waiting for God to show me the way. Maybe that would have been a good time to stop and chat but I wasn’t ready yet. Presenting the gospel cold makes me feel like a sales man. It makes me feel like I’m treating everyone like a customer rather than a person. I don’t think Jesus ever did that.

Prayer – especially intercessory prayer - is something I’ve been searching to understand and I think God has been teaching me a lot about it lately. Prayer is basically plugging into God; it is aligning our will with His will. When Paul tells us to pray to God at all times with all supplication I really don’t think it is meant to be a shopping list. While we are to ask for all things I believe there is a hierarchy of what we ask for according to our spiritual maturity. As children our paramount prayer may be to ask God for the newest Transformer for Christmas. As spiritual adults our prayer can only be, how may I glorify you more today oh Lord. I may wish that this be my only prayer but I am not that mature and while I know that to be a sign of maturity I am still praying that he calms my fearful heart and lowers my anxiety level.

A prayer walk feels absolutely useless. What is the difference between a prayer walk and a walk? Are we miraculously painting the streets with a spiritual holy paint that no one can see? Are lives being changed in the buildings around us as we walk from block to block? Does God need us to bless this community? I would say no. So what am I doing? I don’t know, but I think that’s exactly where God wants me.

So I head out for our prayer walk, waiting on God. The lies of the world assault me. It tells me my plight is hopeless and that danger lurks around every dark corner – spring loaded knives and needles are an arms length away. I’m waiting for his leading. I’m listening for the Spirit which is inside me and all around me to make his will known. I’m reciting the words of Paul, ‘if God is for us who can be against us’. I am asking for the faith to believe that I will be taken care of and that there is nothing to fear. I’m trusting that God has a plan for what I’m doing and that this is more than a foolish walk around the neighbourhood. And then it dawns on me that this intense spiritual listening, this stretching of faith, this faith to trust, this fearless trusting should be practiced at all times. Life should be a prayer walk.

This is why I go to the east side to do ministry. It helps me to see how much I need to be plugged into God. The persecution that my culture faces is that of affluence, complacency, and boredom. These are motivators or symptoms of a belief that I do not need Jesus. I do not feel these cultural afflictions amongst the rigors of eastside culture. It is there that I am more prone to cry out and say I need you for safety. I need you for direction. I need you for peace. I need you for life.

The next awkward step

One of the boys from youth showed up at Potters and it was a good opportunity to disciple him in his first time coming downtown to serve. Overall he was very good at serving. He didn't question too much and he didn't mind doing manual labour such as sweeping and mopping. There were a number of people from the community whom I have formed a friendship with who called me out to talk to me. I kept the conversations short because I wanted to keep my focus on the young man. At the same time I struggled with pride. I could sense this pleasure in me for appearing so well known in the community. Especially in front of the young man who I had mentored in youth group and at times felt hadn't given me the respect I deserved. Hah!

Upon reflection of the night I am aware of some awkward moments. I set out to befriend the people of this community and get to know them and their way of life. Too a point I have done that. I have made that first contact. After two years at Potters I know most of the regulars. I don't know what daily life is like down there though. I probably never will unless I live down there. The question now is what is the next step. If I don't move forward I will only become more susceptible to the pride and self righteousness that comes from appearing to be in the know among the poor in front of the rich urban class.

This came to a point as I talked with a man whom I have put the most time into befriending. We had our regular conversation and he said he had to leave and I said simply okay, but my response was way too quickly, like I was trying to get out of the conversation because I didn't know where to take it. I have to know my mission and where to take it.

A closed fist and an open hand

On July 7^th I had the opportunity to speak at Potters. I borrowed all my material from Tim Keller and his book ‘Prodigal God’. While I was a little short and a little unsure of my final point and conclusion I was met with favorable response. I really feel that the Lord has gifted me in teaching. It is a passion of mine to study theology. Speaking is a means of teaching but I am relatively inexperienced and often have anxiety over it being a complete flop. Currently I am in fear of my next speaking opportunity because I don’t have a topic in mind. None the less I would be a fool not to exercise a gift that God has given me.

I went to sit down with a man that I have enjoyed conversing with but it was the other man at the table that I would spend the remainder of the night speaking with. He was from the Czech Republic. He told me that he was both the younger and the older son from the parable in the sermon and that he exhibited the worst traits from both. I assume he meant he lived wildly and judged harshly. He said that he believed in Jesus and that he knew that he died on the cross for his sins. The man had a lot to say.

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He began to tell me his history in the Czech Republic. He used to be part of the black market and he and three close friends were very profitable at it. Eventually an agent in the government came and saw him with a large file on all that he was doing. He was told to shut it all down or his parents would be killed. That was his fall. He eventually had to leave the country and had been living in Canada for approximately 5yrs. This is at least what I could piece together.

What really interested me were his comments about east side Vancouver. He said this would not go on in Czech Republic. The streets were owned by organized crime (organized crime is not the word he used but by his description I think that is what he was talking about). Drug dealers were beaten for open dealing. In fact it sounded like drugs in general were frowned upon by the people he was in league with in the Czech Republic. He said that people were too afraid to walk around high or drunk or dealing. They knew what was coming to them if they did. He said that if his crew were in Vancouver they would have people at each corner and when problems arose they would come together and handle the problem as a brotherhood. I remember thinking once myself that it would be cool to have guys on each corner who would stand guard and stop the violence that happens in that area of town.

He told me that he used to feed on fear and that he could sense the fear in me. Boy am I tired of being told that. I wonder if I really appear that fearful. I don’t feel that fearful but I am aware that I put myself at risk.

He had said that it was because of me that he had refrained from doing bad things. I think he meant acting violently. As he was leaving he said again that it was because of me that this whole neighborhood hadn’t gone completely to hell. I asked him what he meant by me and he said he meant the Christian presence. He said that in the Czech Republic people behaved out of fear but here it is only the Christian presence that has any effect and that that does not exist in the Czech Republic. I was asked him how we had effect because at times I feel like we are only enablers. He simply said that we made a difference but didn’t specify. I found this very encouraging and really enjoyed our conversation.

I pondered the two ways of action for a while afterward. Should you rule with an iron closed fist or an open compassionate hand? I thought of Saddam Hussein and how he kept all the different tribes in line with threats of terror and death and how the US led occupation of Iraq has resulted in much chaos as they try and bring freedom and democracy into the country. (I realize this statement is arguable but follow my thought process). I think of the UFC and how the fighters are being short changed and bullied around in their contracts but if they were to start many competitive organizations it would be very difficult to get the best fights because fighters would only be fighting for the biggest pay check. Do I follow a Jesus with blazing eyes, a sword in his mouth and robes dipped in blood or do I follow a Jesus with a broken body, hung on a cross and covered in his own blood? The answer is both. The question is how do I apply that to my ministry in the east side of Vancouver?

Are you a God fearing man?

We have had a great increase in numbers to our Potter's crew lately. We see between 15-20 volunteers each Tuesday. This resurgence has left us with an excess of helping hands. In order to keep the kitchen from becoming a zoo we have been going on prayer walks. I'm really not sure what a prayer walk is. I mean I've heard of them. I know Christian leaders who do this sort of thing. I believe the elders and staff at our home church do these together from time to time. But theologically, I don't really understand it. I don't really understand prayer theologically beyond the usefulness it has for me and my relationship with God.

So me and 8 girls/woman head out to the street and walk the neighborhood after praying for the Lord's guidance. At times I am in solemn prayer for the neighborhood and community, asking God to redeem the people. At times I am just observing the gentrification process that is occurring in the community. And at other times I am discussing with my friends the recent attacks of cougars on humans when their habitat is shrinking. We are not having conversations with people and we are not interacting with the community very much. I feel kind of ineffective. I do this in faith. It stretches me.

When we return the worship is wrapping up. Jon begins speaking and its not even ten minutes when someone starts having an argument. I move from the back door and sit near the front to get a better sense of whats going on. I listen to Jon a bit, read through psalm 73 a bit, pray a bit. There is one guy who is making threatening gestures to others in the service. I get up and sit down beside him on the bench and ask him to be quiet. He leans over and asks me if I'm a pastor. I say no. He asks me if I'm Jon's bodyguard. I say no. He asks me if I fear the Lord. I say yes. He's says well I don't. Someone beside me says, than why are you here? His attention is now off the other people and on me. With a steely eyed, jail hardened stare he tries to intimidate me. He begins to make threats about how he will hurt he. After a minute of him grumbling out threats I turn and say to him, because I fear the Lord I fear no man. He continues to stare and I stare back. Then he says, I can see the fear in your eyes. Yes for sure he could. My heart was racing and I was probably going flush. The words were more bold than my faith. None the less I stayed seated in prayer as he told me how he was going to end me with a pipe pole. He played with roles of newspaper of which could have concealed this pipe pole he was talking of. He pulled a stringed necklace out from under his shirt of which sharp scissors hung at the end of. It was a well rehearsed jailhouse baring of teeth.

He had won the stare down so I ignored him mostly. His threats were quite and were not disturbing anyone so I let him ramble on. A few times when he got louder or put his finger in my face I would tell him to be at peace or to just keep it down. There were others who talked to him and told him he had to be quiet but he was unresponsive. I spent a lot of time in prayer. I prayed for safety but I also prayer that any demonic presence that would interfere with his salvation would be taken from us so that the gospel could be heard. I did sense their oppressive presence and poured myself into pleading with the Lord to cast them out in his might.

When the service was done I stayed with him and said a few words. I only remember saying I wish I could give you hope. He railed about his girlfriend that had been murdered by the cops and thrown in his back yard and an Asian guy that had been hung. He said where is the God in that triumphantly as if he had won a verbal spar by sheer shock. Obviously he had suffered a lot of pain by his thick protective exterior and I prayed for a word that could pierce it. Alas none came and maybe it was better to remain silent. Garvin came by and said it would probably be better if he left once he got his food. I let Garvin sit down beside him and talk to him and Jon came to talk to him as well. I don't know what happened after that. I remember seeing him leave and I wanted to say something but when he saw me he turned in a manner that suggested he did not want any more words. I wonder if there is a little bit of shame underneath all that rough exterior that he would utter such violent threats to someone who obviously meant him no harm.

Intercessory prayer

I have had difficulty with prayer, especially intercessory prayer. It just doesn't make sense that a 'created heart' could feel more than the 'creators heart' and have a compassion that our God lacks. I'm sure I don't need to bring Gods attention to something that he missed. Yet we here stories of Abraham, Moses, Daniel where the Lord changes his will at their request. Therefor the practice of intercessory prayer is legitimate though it does not make sense.

I went down to Potters for an Alpha course that they are doing. I see it as a good opportunity for discussion with the community. I have never taken alpha before but I ended up going on a day where they were discussing prayer. The video was good but I didn't really feel like there was anything new for me. None the less it spurned me in the right direction. While I have always seen prayer as a way of developing a relationship with our Father I began to see that intercessory prayer was a way of developing a heart for others. Prayer is about aligning our will with our Fathers. We should have a loving compassion for those around us and one way to break through our hard hearts and cultivate a selfless heart is through the intercessory prayer process.

There were three Hispanic men sitting at our table. One of them didn't talk for most of the discussion but near the end he spoke but in his foreign tongue and his friend translated. He said so many great things about the state of the church and it's shepherds, the conflicts in Mexico, our self serving culture. I felt like a prophet was speaking. One thing he said that really stuck out was that we have to stop praying only for ourselves. This was my confirmation and I now pray in an intercessory fashion with more confidence of it's purpose.

Just to cover myself, I know this perspective on prayer takes away the power that some would ascribe to it. I don't claim to have a systematic understanding of prayer according to the bible. I do think there is great power in changing a heart. Changing hearts can sometimes be harder than moving mountains. The power is the Lords and the only power we have is the Spirit that is with in us.

I know, I know

There is this old man down at Potters who I have never spoken to but I know others who I volunteer with give a lot of respect. He was sitting with this girl and talking with her when another, younger man interrupted the conversation. The younger man could easily have been forty or older but he was younger than this old man. The younger man seemed to have some sort of mental disorder because he had no respect for the conversation that was going on and just interrupted with random comments like, “I saw you at the bus stop yesterday but you didn’t come over to talk to me,” or, “I have really bad teeth you know. I can’t chew much, really bad teeth."

He seemed to repeat himself much like Dustin Hoffman in ‘Rainman’. He also had a very loud a grating voice. It was almost like he was whining or like he was forcing the words through his throat. These constant loud comments through out the service drew much disdain from those around him. He was shushed and told to be quiet numerous times in which he responded, “I know, I know.”

The more it happened the more comical it became. If he really knew that he was disturbing the service he would have stopped but it was obvious by his actions that he couldn’t care less or didn’t have the ability to hold his tongue.

It was later in the week as I fell to temptation that I saw myself acting the same way. I found myself tired and thinking only of myself and when the Spirit convicted me I said in my mind, ‘I know, I know’ as I reached out with my hand to sin. I see that, like this younger man, I either didn’t care enough to restrain myself or I didn’t have the ability. I find him comical and mentally damaged and now I see these labels can be applied to myself as well.

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I went down to Potters for an Alpha course they do on Mondays. I had just finished a golf game and had no time to go home to change. There was a pert of me that didn’t want to go because my attire didn’t feel appropriate. It was awkward to be seen in my clean white shorts and my preppy golf shirt. It was awkward for it to be known that I had just spent roughly $50 to hit a little white ball around a park for the last four hours while I was about to eat with people who may be having their first meal of the day. No one asked a question or made a comment other than the bright red sunburn on my forehead. I actually had a great time participating in the alpha course with some of the east side community. I know that Pastor Debra, the woman who pastors the mission, often wears very nice clothes. She does not dress down as I often do when I come to the east side community.

I began to wonder if some of the joy I experience in serving this community is not joy in the Lord but joy in the alleviation of the guilt I feel for having the wealth I have. I spend so much time idly playing games and watching videos. And for maybe one or two days a week I will go out for a couple of hours and do, ‘acts of service’. I know it’s good; I’m not really knocking it, I just know with what I have been given I should be doing so much more for the sake of the Lord.

The conveniences I can afford are damaging to my soul and spirit. They insulate me from experiencing trust and faith in the Lord. In Psalm 52 it says, ‘See the man who would not make God his refuge, but trusted in the abundance of his riches, and sought refuge in his own destruction!’ Trusting in my riches brings about my own destruction.

Hope of the Gospel

March 10th

I think it was March tenth when I met the man I am about to speak about. I got up to get someone a glass of water or a napkin and Patrick asked me point blank, ‘are you a Christian?’ When I said yes he told me I was lucky. I paused for a moment but had no words and eventually continued on with the current task. When I returned I asked him why he thought I was lucky. He said something like, I was saved, or I had everything sorted out. I asked him if he was a Christian and he said no. He said he had done too many bad things, he had been told that he was evil. I quickly told him that it wasn’t about what he did but what God had done for him. I delivered a God inspired, impassioned proclamation, of what the gospel was. I told him that I believed that God already had his heart and was drawing him in. You could see in his eyes he genuinely wanted to believe he could be a Christian but a lie was standing in the way. He then told me that he had asked Jesus to be in his heart a while ago.

It dawns on me now that while he stopped believing that he was living in Jesus that Jesus had not stopped living in him. This man, who likely slept on the cold ground and was about to have his first meal of the day, was not angry or argumentative. He was meek sincere, and attentive.

He told me that he had a problem with the pipe and that he wanted to stop. I told him there were places that would give him a place to stay, food to eat, addiction counseling, and biblical education. He began to have hope and he asked me to help him.

I was disheartened that I had forgotten my book of numbers and that I had not recorded the numbers in my phone (something I have rectified since). I was also disappointed at the lack of resources that Potters had for those seeking recovery. It made me feel that our purpose was more palliative then ever. Eventually I gave Patrick my personal number and the number to resurrection house. I told him he would have to keep calling every day to show that he was serious about recovery. He was concerned because he had done recovery before but when he relapsed they wouldn’t take him back. I believe relapse is part of the process of recovery just as sin and repentance are part of the process of sanctification. Jesus says we must forgive 77 times meaning if the sinner\relapsee is willing then we are to be forgiven and taken back into the fold. I have a hard time not praying for Patrick each day. My prayer is that he will find a recovery program that loves him a supports him and teaches him about the truth of the gospel.

I was overjoyed seeing the power of the gospel coming from my lips and seeing it have instant effect in the widening eyes of Patrick. I praised the Lord till my eyes closed for allowing me to participate in sharing his great love and glory to another brother.