I would but I won't

I and two others explored another street mission that opens before Potters. The Pastor there started speaking\preaching to us as soon as we introduced ourselves. He did not stop for twenty-five minutes. I felt anxiety that all his attention was poured out on us when I perceived that there were many other things he should be administering to. One of his regular volunteers told him there were many other students who he should meet but he just paid no attention. He spoke of dying to self, preaching in the moment and not coming prepared. He was a jovial man, had a French accent and had a long greying moustache that drooped down to his chin. He was a rather large man with suspenders that wrapped around the side of his stomach. You can’t help feel honoured to have someone give you all this attention. We stood humbly silent in respect. I wonder? Is he a man who has set his sails to the Spirits breath and moves with it or is it his character to ramble and be oblivious of his duties. Faith vs. Reason – there is always a tension there. All and all, I would dispute a few things he said but I really liked him. By my perception he was a man who had given himself up for the Lord.

Back at Potters worship was in full swing. We learned that Brad serves both missions and we talked about that for a moment. I need to hear his full testimony sometime. I sat there pondering what I had just seen and heard. I pondered our mission and my motivations for being there. It’s very easy for it to turn from a worship of God to a “points game” of impressive acts. Who’s doing the most work? Who’s displaying the most love? These “works” can be for God or for other people. I have to constantly ask why I am I doing what I am doing and then realign to Jesus Christ. Know thyself.

I look out the back door to the open streets. That lady in the wheel chair who was asking for phone numbers for recovery places last week is initiating a sale. Moments later a man comes back and opens his hand so that she can take the rock of her choosing. I think about going out there and asking her if she made the call. I want to know if she tried, and if it just got too frustrating making all the phone calls. Phone calls frustrate the hell out of me. I think of how she will feel, rock melting in her hand, as she is faced with someone asking her if she sought out recovery as she said she wanted to. She’ll remember back to when she was convicted that she had to do something about this addiction. She will feel that rock melting in her hand and feel ashamed and guilty. ‘I’m too weak, I’m a failure. I just want to smoke this so that I won’t feel this way anymore’. I couldn’t bare to send her into the night that way. I’m afraid of things getting messy.

A guy comes in that I’ve seen a couple times before. He looks to be in his thirties, native descent, usually in high spirits. I’ve seen him stand up and give his testimony with passion and blessing while one of our guitar players replaces a broken string. I like him. I ask him, what’s going on. He tells me he’s looking for a friend, he needs a favour. This is so he can do a favour for another friend. What goes around comes around, I say and I don’t pursue the conversation anymore. I ask him later if there is someone specific he wants to speak to. He’s looking for one of the Pastors. He needs five bucks so that his friend can take the bus to work the next day. He says she’s living with him. When I ask where she works, he says he doesn’t know. I tell him that I would give him the money but I wouldn’t know where the money would really go. He says, I wasn’t asking you for the money. Nice. Now I feel like an ass. Maybe I shouldn’t be spewing around my easy answer to the money situation. Maybe I should be dealing with my guilt in having so much in comparison to this community and giving so little financially.