Those who use bleach have white dogs

Dec 2^nd ‘08

Cam finishes his sermon and there’s a really good response. The guy beside me says something like, “he’s going somewhere” and the guy in front of me says something like, “who is this guy?” I tell them he’s going to be a youth pastor and that two years ago he didn’t even have a faith. I’m never sure how people will respond to younger speakers. Are people only going to respect you once you’ve proven your faithfulness or will you gain respect for adherence to the Word? Or does it come down to a flashy presentation? It seems that adherence to the Word is most profitable. This is what I would hope but not what I would expect.

The guy in front starts talking. He says he’s a Christian and always has been. He turns to me to make a statement and then faces back to the front after each sentence as if he is fearful that I will not be interested in conversation and reject him. I want to ask him why he is down here, as if being Christian should make you immune to poverty. I hold my tongue with enough awareness of the absurdity of the question. I still partially believe that our God is a God of health and wealth. It would be sad if someone finds the Lord but have yet to gain material wealth and health and I will feel like something is still missing.

Sometimes it is very difficult for me to strike up a conversation. This night I had two guys who were both looking to talk and then the guy who was watching the door asked if I could talk with someone else. There was a large man sitting on the floor with a white dog. He wasn’t fat, he was just big. He wanted to know where he should go in the bible if he was having a faith crisis. I had to think about that one. I really should have asked him why he is having a faith crisis but I didn’t. I directed him to psalms and said that David often worked out his faith in song. We ended up talking for the rest of the night. This was a man who was sober and straight. He conversed clearly and had thoughtful insights. I wondered for the second time, why is he down here?

He said he carved masks out of wood and sold the last one for five dollars so that he could buy his dog some food. I asked him why he couldn’t get a job. He certainly appeared capable. He said one reason was that he couldn’t be apart from his dog. He started to tear up because he had put his other dog down five month ago. He even showed me a picture of the two dogs together.

He then told me a story about how sewage lines were crossed with water lines in his last apartment. He said he had been drinking waste water for two years and that his body was filled with poison. He said his body is ruined and ready to die. He continued to explain how it had worked it’s way into his teeth and skin and that he brushed his teeth and had baths with bleach. At that I expressed shock. He said he knew it was bad and that it burned, but it was the only way to clean it out properly. I looked at his teeth and they appeared to be some of the nicest teeth I had seen of all the community. It didn’t click in until driving home that this might be paranoia. I began to be skeptical of the story.

I would hate for this good man to read this and learn that I called him a lier behind his back so I will reserve my prognosis until I have a followed up a little. It’s hard. You want to believe them but you don’t want to be nieve. We live in a world where criminals fane injury so that they can take advantage of the good Samaritan. Jesus says to be wise as serpents and gentle as doves. Once again the bible proclaims another paradox that is difficult to embody.

It is not good that the man should be alone

As you can see I’m not keeping this weekly. I worked Tuesday night four weeks in a row between Oct. and Nov. and I’ve simply not been disciplined to write down other nights I’ve been at Potters. The following is from Nov. 25th

I spoke tonight on suffering in response to a lady who I had spoken to months ago. She couldn’t see the point of prayer as she believed that God didn’t really care. In my introduction I spoke of our first meeting. I don’t always see this lady, but tonight she was front and centre. I didn’t know if I should talk about her when she was right there. I decided to anyway and it seemed she didn’t remember the situation. Near the end of the night I saw her rummaging around in her wheel chair. I decided to approach her. I told her that what I spoke about was as a result of our first conversation. She asked me what I meant and I recited our first meeting months earlier. I asked her if she heard anything I said, and if it made sense at all. At this she broke down crying. I couldn’t help myself but reach out to her and grab a hold of her hand.

She said that she was so alone. She grew up in an orphanage and had lost two children to the streets. She lifted her scarf to cover her face and the tears just began to pour. Her hands were rough. She said it was because of the time she spends out in the cold. In disgust she spit out, “There’s mice all over my apartment. They shit everywhere; on the counter, on my bed, in my pillow, in the pockets of this jacket. That’s why I spend all my time outside.” She said she just wanted it all to be done. She just wanted to die. Many times she repeated that she was so alone. I found it interesting that above the addiction, the poverty, hunger, and dilapidated shelter that it was the loneliness that she appeared to lament the most.

I said God does love her and that as long as she lives he has a purpose for her life. No, she would not believe that. I said his people have been called to love and care for those in need. She said that we don’t really love. We say we love but than we don’t do anything. This was a sore spot with me because sometimes I feel like I am of no practical service. I lend an ear, I pray some words (which are much more powerful than I tend to believe) and I give a bit of my time, but at the end of the day they go back to the street and I go home to my warm clean bed.

I know I can’t change anyone’s life. God does that and they have to accept that. I have to be careful not to be guilted into pity either. I just want to make sure that my love and faith have hands a feet and that I’m not saying no, when the Lord’s asking me to do something.

Fish, Bread and a Family

Two weeks in a row I split with the main group and brought some people to a new location. It is under full renovation and we spent most of the time just cleaning and sweeping up. The electrical had not been done nor was the plumbing properly installed. We worked under low light and had to bring water from Potters. A lot of missional work requires bringing order out of chaos. I think whether you are on a foreign mission, or renovating a DTES loft with little money you have to find creative ways of working with what you have. It’s very easy to say this can’t be done because I don’t have essential tools, or manpower. What is hard, and what must be done to succeed some times, is to ask what do I have, and how am I going to get it done with that? Jesus once asked that question as he prepared to feed 4000. Never the less, I left discouraged the second time and I haven’t had the chance to return. The blessing of this work is the relationships, whether that is fellow volunteers or the people of the community. While it is good work we are doing, I certainly missed some of the relational aspect.

On Oct 14^th I spent some time in the back of Potters cutting onions with friends. It was kind of cute looking around and seeing everyone all teary eyed and sniffing. It kind of made me think that that is how we should be, lamenting over the broken situation we see all around us.

The service was good. Solid music a la Brett, Mike, and Kyle and Cam was our speaker. He was so comfortable delivering the word. Cam never ceases to preach the gospel. Every time he speaks he never misses that core of our faith - Jesus Crucified.

While the food was being brought out a native man with long gray hair down to his shoulders named Lorain stumbled up to the serving table. It seemed to follow the alter call so I asked him if he wanted me to pray for him and he said yes. We headed near the back of Potters to sit down and I asked what he would like me to pray for. He said his legs were very bad, something about his muscles tightening up. He was very difficult to understand and I couldn’t be sure what the cause was. He said he was taking medication but he thought the doctors were testing things on him. It was funny because as he said this as thick drop of drool fell from his lower lip like one who is drugged to the gills. He also said that many of his family members had died recently.

It’s so hard to know what to say? I wonder if some of the poverty stricken in the community are so used to running into evangelizing Christians that they spit out all their suffering as procedure. I asked if his heart is heavy because of all those who died who were close to him. I told you it’s really hard to know what to say! I decided to just pray for him. I prayed for healing, proper medical care, and protection of the heart. When I finished, Lorain said that prayer got him thinking. If God really cared why would he not heal him? That’s what he asked me. I was wise enough just to nod at his good question.

I have seen Loraine many times before. He usually appears under the influence of something. He has many friends. I remember one his friends, Tim, combing his hair and preening over Loraine like a mother. As people begin to leave Loraine is acknowledged by many of them and most strike up a conversation. Apparently Loraine has seizures and had one in the park recently and had to be taken to the hospital after banging his head off the pavement. Through Loraine I was able to meet a lot of people I had never talked to before. Many of them appeared to be kind and loving. Maybe God isn’t going to heal Lorain’s leg but he’s going to provide a community that loves and cares for him?

Never underestimate the community here. I imagine living in the DTES is a lot like living with a big family. You’re all exposed to each other and it’s very hard to hide your “issues”. A lot of time you’re just frustrated with the family because they are such a mess. You wish you could have your own place so you wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore. On the other side, you know them intimately; you know what they want, what they are striving for. You know their history and you know when they are really hurting. When you know that much about someone it’s easier to be compassionate toward them.