It's been two weeks now since I spent a night at a local rescue mission in cognito. I wanted to write about it before the experience is too far past.
I chose to go there because I hoped to come away from the experience with a little more understanding and sympathy for those living life on the streets. I also hoped to get a better grip on the stratification that exists in our society between the haves and the have-nots. I defintely got both.
The whole idea was sparked by the girl who presented at the orientation I attended for those interested in volunteering at the mission. At one point she noted that prior to them hiring a new person, they used to ask him or her to actually spend a night living with the men or women at the mission. They no longer require this, but the idea stuck with me.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized how far from that lifestyle I really am--not that I couldn't end up there in a heartbeat--but all of us so insulate ourselves from the struggles of the thousands of homeless and millions of poverty-stricken people in our society that we cannot fathom what their lives must be like. Consequently we often lack any real compassion for them.
After this experience, I don't profess to "understand" homelessness and its many causes. Nor do I have any real answers to propose. Instead, I believe I simply grasp a little better what it is to spend a night there and the lives of the individuals who call it home.
Check in was at 7:00. After dressing in some fairly normal, perhaps slightly worn-looking clothes and a baseball cap, Barb and the kids dropped me off at 6:30, 6 blocks from the mission.
I got there early and, like the others, I loitered around the front of the building until the doors opened. A lot of cars traveled that street and would stop at the intersection in front of the mission. For the first time in my life, I felt the humiliation of being eyed with contempt or completely ignored by passersby simply for being homeless--judged and labeled, even though they didn't know me at all.
Once we got inside the building, we all stood in a waiting area. In the corner was a man lying half-dressed on a dirty sleeping bag. Another man in a Reds baseball cap sat nearby rocking and mumbling to himself. There were your typical homeless-looking men, bearded, disheveled, hardened, but there were also many others who, had they not been standing in line with me, you wouldn't be able to identify them as anything but ordinary citizens with homes in the 'burbs. And that was one of the things that stood out so starkly to me--many of these men are simply there because they need a place of transition between their former life and their new, and hopefully different, one.
During check in I observed how the staff treated the men. It was obvious that they were professionals as they proceeded in the difficult task with ease. At one point, after having his bag checked through, a man was told to leave and not return until he had gotten rid of the liquer and pornography he'd hidden in his bag. The staff person was firm and straight faced, but he remained friendly throughout. Never once did I witness anyone being treated poorly or with disrespect.
As my turn came to check in, they patted me down for weapons, checked my bag, took my name, and sent me in to find my way around. If there was any apprehension on my part that night, it was then. I didn't really know where to go or what to do. As I was wondering the halls, one of those "homeless-looking" men came up and gave me some direction as to what I should do. When I said thanks, he responded, "Hey, we've all had our first time here before." I'm not saying that the mission is a place you'd want to spend the rest of your life it, or that it's heaven on earth, but inspite of their living conditions and the daily grind of life on the street, kindness still existed in the hearts of some of these men.
Following his advice, I found my way to where they kept the sleeping mats. Since it was my first night, I got to spend the night on the floor. I entered a large room containing about 25 bunk beds. Each one had a fairly clean looking mattress which the men covered with the clean sheets the staff gave to each of us. I found a place on the floor that was as out of the way as I could get and made my bed. I pretty much spent the rest of the evening from 7:45 until midnight lying there listening to the conversations around me.
Many of the men there were just out of prison and trying to get back on their feet. It surpised me how many of them had cell phones and spent a lot of time talking on them. The banter was friendly and you could tell many of them knew each other pretty well. Certain men seemed to have more authority in the place that others. There was some friendly bickering over which direction the large industrial fan in the corner would face as it was hot in there. Gradually the men continued to file in until most of the beds were full.
Sleep was hard to come by. Like I said, it was nearly midnight before I could fall asleep. Part of it was because my mind was processing the experience, but part of it was the discomfort of the floor, the heat, the noise, the talking, and the turning on and off of lights (to much protest) as someone had to look for something. I had slept for a couple of hours when loud sirens passed by and woke many of us up again. This happened again at about 4:30 a.m. I'd finally gotten back to sleep when at 5:30, the lights came on and we all received the morning wake up call. It was back to the streets.
I folded my bed and made my way back out the front door. By now, the floors were crowded with men lying all around. I could tell that the men I had come in with at 7:00 the night before were probably some of the onse who had some hope of getting out of this cycle. But the men I saw on the floors, meaning they were first-timers like me or they were too late to get a bed, looked much harder, much more abused and wasted. I guess many were probably drug addicts who stumbled in after their stash or their money ran out and the high started to wear off. To see human beings in such a state left me deeply saddened.
Once outside, it was strange how the men simply faded into the background of the city. Like grains of sand they sifted along the streets, between the buildings, until they came to their resting place for the day. Some certainly went to jobs, but many others would sink to the sewers of society until evening came once again.
The message of the mission is this: "Rescuing the downtrodden. Restoring hope to the hopeless. Releasing God's greatness to our communities." In some sense, I witnessed that first hand as men found food, shelter, and a sense of dignity in that building and through the staff. At the same time, I left feeling discouraged because homelessness and its deeper causes will, as Jesus said, always be among us. What keeps driving us, and even more, the staff of the mission, to continue to care for these men when there's little outward sign of appreciation and perhaps even contempt? I concluded that it could only be the work of Christ in our hearts and the understanding that when we serve the least of these, we are serving Jesus himself. God, help me never to forget it.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Happy Birthday and the Problem of Evil
So I turn 34 today (I've outlived Jesus--I don't know if that's good or bad), and I spent the morning (well, 6:30-8:00) unlike any birthday I can remember--walking, jogging, and praying.
I say I was praying, but it was a bit of a one-way conversation with me doing most of the talking . . . er, complaining. I get that way sometimes, and I've found that long walks in places of solitude and silence lend themselves better to really getting at the heart of the issue. If we're truly honest, a lot of our praying closely resembles someone feeding a dog table scraps: We're occupied with whatever it is we're doing, not wanting to be bothered, but we feel guilty enough to toss a bone or two God's way every now and then. That's where I started off this morning, but with time (and the opportunity to pray aloud) what's gnawing at my gut usually makes it's way into the dialogue (or is it diatribe?).
I usually pray for my family at some point, for physical safety and spiritual protection, and that's when the "Problem of Evil" reared it's head again. I may pray that my children and wife will never have to experience some horrific act of violence and evil, and, although God may indeed protect my family, what about the thousands, perhaps millions of others who do suffer such atrocities? What about those who suffered in the genocide in Rwanda, or who languish in North Korean prison camps, or the children and women in brothels like those in Svey Pak, Cambodia that I read about recently in Christianity Today or even in those right here in Toledo? Why do they have to suffer when we pray for an end to evil? As a parent who loves my children immensely, and would never knowingly allow them to experience something so terrible, how can God, who is supposed to be "Love" itself, let people suffer the way they do?
The answer usually given is that in order for real love to exist, humans must have free will; we need the freedom to chose to love or not to love God. Well, this morning I said a big fat "Screw You!" to free will. Why not just give us limited free will--I think we could still love God just as much if the only things we weren't free to do were those sickening acts of violence toward others, particularly children, which we too often hear about. I mean, if you think about it, we already have limited free will anyway. I may wish to, but I can't just jump out of my window and fly away. There are physical laws in place that limit my freedom. More to the point, according to the Bible, I don't even have the freedom to reject God and ever truly be happy. So what would be the dectraction to free will if we added one more limiting factor: No violence toward others, or at least children?
So then, I began to question God's existence, as I think all of us must do from time to time if we're to be honest with ourselves and our experience of life. The "Problem of Evil" summed up states the following: We say God is all loving and all powerful. Yet if evil continues to exist, then God must either not be all loving--else how could He allow it to continue--or He's not all powerful, because if He were all loving and all powerful then He certainly would do something about it.
Now, sorry to disappoint you here, but I don't claim to have an answer to this--I don't think anyone does. Still, as I was having it out with God this morning, a thought occured to me which is helping me make some peace with it--at least for now.
I began to realize that rather than turn me away from God, the problem of evil actually ought to strengthen my belief in Him. Evil in the world does at least one thing well--it proves how truly messed up we human beings are when left to our own devices, when we do what we want to do instead of what God desires for us. Evil highlights our deep, infinite need for God. It demonstrates in visceral ways our utter lostness apart from Him and His laws.
Even more, as my former philosophy professor, Dr. Truesdale once wrote, "The Christian faith has no adequate rational "justification" or "solution" for the problem of evil. But it does have a more-than-adequate response." (If God is God, Then Why?, p. 107).
He goes on:
What sort of God do we meet in the Cross? None other than the God who suffers with us. The Cross guarantees that God is present with us. He doesn't stand safely aloof. In Christ we meet the eternal God, who so radically identifies with a suffering world that He takes the world's evil upon himself. Not just the sins of the world, but the unfathomable abyss of evil. In Christ, God radically identifies with human brokenness. He suffers the heinous death of His only begotten Son (p. 108).
I think I understand how the problem of evil could turn people away from God, but I think it only can when people fail to recognize that evil results from people choosing to do whatever it is they want to do and fail to yeild to the will of God.
Like I said, it still doesn't explain how evil can exist when we believe that God is all loving and all powerful, but it does at least point us to the One who ultimately has the answer to that question.
Well, here's to my 34th.
I say I was praying, but it was a bit of a one-way conversation with me doing most of the talking . . . er, complaining. I get that way sometimes, and I've found that long walks in places of solitude and silence lend themselves better to really getting at the heart of the issue. If we're truly honest, a lot of our praying closely resembles someone feeding a dog table scraps: We're occupied with whatever it is we're doing, not wanting to be bothered, but we feel guilty enough to toss a bone or two God's way every now and then. That's where I started off this morning, but with time (and the opportunity to pray aloud) what's gnawing at my gut usually makes it's way into the dialogue (or is it diatribe?).
I usually pray for my family at some point, for physical safety and spiritual protection, and that's when the "Problem of Evil" reared it's head again. I may pray that my children and wife will never have to experience some horrific act of violence and evil, and, although God may indeed protect my family, what about the thousands, perhaps millions of others who do suffer such atrocities? What about those who suffered in the genocide in Rwanda, or who languish in North Korean prison camps, or the children and women in brothels like those in Svey Pak, Cambodia that I read about recently in Christianity Today or even in those right here in Toledo? Why do they have to suffer when we pray for an end to evil? As a parent who loves my children immensely, and would never knowingly allow them to experience something so terrible, how can God, who is supposed to be "Love" itself, let people suffer the way they do?
The answer usually given is that in order for real love to exist, humans must have free will; we need the freedom to chose to love or not to love God. Well, this morning I said a big fat "Screw You!" to free will. Why not just give us limited free will--I think we could still love God just as much if the only things we weren't free to do were those sickening acts of violence toward others, particularly children, which we too often hear about. I mean, if you think about it, we already have limited free will anyway. I may wish to, but I can't just jump out of my window and fly away. There are physical laws in place that limit my freedom. More to the point, according to the Bible, I don't even have the freedom to reject God and ever truly be happy. So what would be the dectraction to free will if we added one more limiting factor: No violence toward others, or at least children?
So then, I began to question God's existence, as I think all of us must do from time to time if we're to be honest with ourselves and our experience of life. The "Problem of Evil" summed up states the following: We say God is all loving and all powerful. Yet if evil continues to exist, then God must either not be all loving--else how could He allow it to continue--or He's not all powerful, because if He were all loving and all powerful then He certainly would do something about it.
Now, sorry to disappoint you here, but I don't claim to have an answer to this--I don't think anyone does. Still, as I was having it out with God this morning, a thought occured to me which is helping me make some peace with it--at least for now.
I began to realize that rather than turn me away from God, the problem of evil actually ought to strengthen my belief in Him. Evil in the world does at least one thing well--it proves how truly messed up we human beings are when left to our own devices, when we do what we want to do instead of what God desires for us. Evil highlights our deep, infinite need for God. It demonstrates in visceral ways our utter lostness apart from Him and His laws.
Even more, as my former philosophy professor, Dr. Truesdale once wrote, "The Christian faith has no adequate rational "justification" or "solution" for the problem of evil. But it does have a more-than-adequate response." (If God is God, Then Why?, p. 107).
He goes on:
What sort of God do we meet in the Cross? None other than the God who suffers with us. The Cross guarantees that God is present with us. He doesn't stand safely aloof. In Christ we meet the eternal God, who so radically identifies with a suffering world that He takes the world's evil upon himself. Not just the sins of the world, but the unfathomable abyss of evil. In Christ, God radically identifies with human brokenness. He suffers the heinous death of His only begotten Son (p. 108).
I think I understand how the problem of evil could turn people away from God, but I think it only can when people fail to recognize that evil results from people choosing to do whatever it is they want to do and fail to yeild to the will of God.
Like I said, it still doesn't explain how evil can exist when we believe that God is all loving and all powerful, but it does at least point us to the One who ultimately has the answer to that question.
Well, here's to my 34th.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Getting Outside the Four Walls
Since Barb and I have been in Toledo (nearly 4 months now) we've had the great opportunity to visit a lot of different churches on Sunday mornings. As a pastor for the last 10 years, I've always been tied to a particular congregation on a Sunday morning, but since we don't have a congregation right now we have the freedom to check out other places to see what God's up to.
So far we've been to the following churches:
--Cedar Creek Church (non-denominational)
--First Alliance Church (Christian Missionary Alliance)
--Westgate Chapel (Christian Missionary Alliance)
--Hope Lutheran (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America)
--Hope Community (Nazarene)
--The Source (Nazarene)
--Upper Valley Community (Nazarene)
--Bedford Church of the Nazarene
--Vineyard Toledo (Vineyard)
--North Point Church (Church of the United Brethren in Christ, USA)
--Joshua Generation (non-denominational)
Each one has been surprisingly different, a fact that certainly points to the creative diversity of God's Spirit moving among His people. It also points to the diversity of human beings and the ways in which we connect with God. I can't recommend enough to you that you take opportunities to visit other churches in your area. It will expand your vision of God's kingdom in ways that few other things can. And it will either increase your love and understanding of your own church or your dissatisfaction with the current state of things. Either way, you'll grow.
In visiting all of these churches, it wasn't until this last week that I felt like I was really sitting amongst "the least of these". Without exception, every church we worshiped in was well organized, well behaved, fairly monochromatic (meaning: predominantly white), and comfortble. Joshua Generation could not have stood in sharper contrast to them all.
Joshua Generation is a new church whose nascency is in a local rescue mission. It began about 10 months or so ago at the building where they feed the homeless on Sunday mornings. Recently, the president of the mission asked the pastor if he'd consider taking the church to the streets in south Toledo, and he agreed.
My first meeting with pastor Chris both impressed and surprised me. Chris stands about 6'2" and is a big African American man. Looks like he played football or something. His arms sported tattoos and gold jewelry. The white baseball cap on his head was cocked slightly to the side. MC Hammer would have been proud of his sunglasses. He immediately welcomed me and said, "We just trying to get out the four walls. We takin' God's love to the streets!"
"To the streets" was right. They'd blocked off the old brick-paved road next to their building which stood next to a boarded up, weed-overgrown Rally's (btw, how does Rally's go out of business in the hood?). A dj blared Christian gangsta rap through the sound system. On a small platform sat three shiny, new bicycles and 3 microphones. I soon found out they were raffling the bikes off as well gift certificates to WalMart (free raffle, of course). 50 or so metal chairs sat in about 10 rows between the crumbling curbs.
The people gathered were a true cross section of the hood: black/white/latino; poor; homeless; drug addicts, prostitutes, old, young, and inbetween; clean/dirty; sober/hungover; and a few of us middleclass urban types sprinkled throughout. To be honest, we felt a bit out of our element.
We arrived at 10:15 for the 10:30 start which turned out to be more like 10:50. Preceding the worship time was JJ's Express Drill and Drum Corps, which, if you've ever been to a parade in an large urban environment, then you know what I'm talking about. It's about loud drums and booty shakin'. (But I think it's also about a lot more--the backs of their uniform/tshirts stated "We all we got!" For some of the kids that was probably true. I praise organizations like JJ's for that.) I doubt that it would have gone over in many other churches, mine included.
Then pastor Chris stood up and with all the aplomb of a ghetto MC began to tell us about himself--from the hood, grew up in church, made some bad decisions, got into gangs and drugs, God got a hold of his life, and now he's trying to help others find the Savior. Powerful.
After that, a couple of guys moseyed over to a drums set and keyboard sitting next to the curb while 4 women and a teen took the stage. Pastor Chris and the singers began to lead us in a few shouts-out to the neighborhood and then moved into the R&B edition of "This is the Day" and a few other songs I didn't know. When this was over it was 11:45. We'd been there and hour and a half and we'd just started.
I confess to you that we had to leave at that point. The loud music, blazing sun, and general bedlam had taken its toll on our 16 month old to the point that she was inconsolable. The other two were content playing in the dirt on the street (sorry mom) and pulling the leaves and flowers off the weeds, but we decided it was time to make our exit.
Since yesterday, I've been thinking about and praying for Joshua Generation and pastor Chris. I'm not trying to say one church is better than another just because it's out on the street, but I can't help but read the Bible and see what kinds of people it mentions as being around Jesus and wonder: Are we missing something?
In a moment both comical and lamentable, the catholic church, which sat on the corner opposite our little street scene, let out their services just at the time JJ's drummers were banging away and the dancers were shakin' it. To quote a popular syrupy Christian song: "I can only imagine" what those people thought. Were they disgusted, amused, dismayed, confused, angered, joyful?
Did they recognized God at work there? Did it make them grieve that they'd missed out on such a large segment of the population around them?
What about me? Did I really care for these people like pastor Chris did? Like those serving did? Like Jesus did? Were many of us there simply out of shame--like we should be doing something? Out of fear--"whatever you've done unto the least of these you've done unto me"? Out of guilt or sense of duty--I ought to do something because I'm white and privileged? Out of hubris and pride--I can fix these people? My guess is that it's a little bit of everything all mixed up together.
I don't know if we'll be back. I would guess we will, but I don't know. I can't guess what's going to happen to that little church, but I believe God's in it.
Still, I know two things: many of the people gathered there wouldn't have been in another church that day if it weren't for Joshua Generation, and, if He could have only chosen one church in Toledo to be, I doubt you would have found Jesus anyplace else either.
So far we've been to the following churches:
--Cedar Creek Church (non-denominational)
--First Alliance Church (Christian Missionary Alliance)
--Westgate Chapel (Christian Missionary Alliance)
--Hope Lutheran (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America)
--Hope Community (Nazarene)
--The Source (Nazarene)
--Upper Valley Community (Nazarene)
--Bedford Church of the Nazarene
--Vineyard Toledo (Vineyard)
--North Point Church (Church of the United Brethren in Christ, USA)
--Joshua Generation (non-denominational)
Each one has been surprisingly different, a fact that certainly points to the creative diversity of God's Spirit moving among His people. It also points to the diversity of human beings and the ways in which we connect with God. I can't recommend enough to you that you take opportunities to visit other churches in your area. It will expand your vision of God's kingdom in ways that few other things can. And it will either increase your love and understanding of your own church or your dissatisfaction with the current state of things. Either way, you'll grow.
In visiting all of these churches, it wasn't until this last week that I felt like I was really sitting amongst "the least of these". Without exception, every church we worshiped in was well organized, well behaved, fairly monochromatic (meaning: predominantly white), and comfortble. Joshua Generation could not have stood in sharper contrast to them all.
Joshua Generation is a new church whose nascency is in a local rescue mission. It began about 10 months or so ago at the building where they feed the homeless on Sunday mornings. Recently, the president of the mission asked the pastor if he'd consider taking the church to the streets in south Toledo, and he agreed.
My first meeting with pastor Chris both impressed and surprised me. Chris stands about 6'2" and is a big African American man. Looks like he played football or something. His arms sported tattoos and gold jewelry. The white baseball cap on his head was cocked slightly to the side. MC Hammer would have been proud of his sunglasses. He immediately welcomed me and said, "We just trying to get out the four walls. We takin' God's love to the streets!"
"To the streets" was right. They'd blocked off the old brick-paved road next to their building which stood next to a boarded up, weed-overgrown Rally's (btw, how does Rally's go out of business in the hood?). A dj blared Christian gangsta rap through the sound system. On a small platform sat three shiny, new bicycles and 3 microphones. I soon found out they were raffling the bikes off as well gift certificates to WalMart (free raffle, of course). 50 or so metal chairs sat in about 10 rows between the crumbling curbs.
The people gathered were a true cross section of the hood: black/white/latino; poor; homeless; drug addicts, prostitutes, old, young, and inbetween; clean/dirty; sober/hungover; and a few of us middleclass urban types sprinkled throughout. To be honest, we felt a bit out of our element.
We arrived at 10:15 for the 10:30 start which turned out to be more like 10:50. Preceding the worship time was JJ's Express Drill and Drum Corps, which, if you've ever been to a parade in an large urban environment, then you know what I'm talking about. It's about loud drums and booty shakin'. (But I think it's also about a lot more--the backs of their uniform/tshirts stated "We all we got!" For some of the kids that was probably true. I praise organizations like JJ's for that.) I doubt that it would have gone over in many other churches, mine included.
Then pastor Chris stood up and with all the aplomb of a ghetto MC began to tell us about himself--from the hood, grew up in church, made some bad decisions, got into gangs and drugs, God got a hold of his life, and now he's trying to help others find the Savior. Powerful.
After that, a couple of guys moseyed over to a drums set and keyboard sitting next to the curb while 4 women and a teen took the stage. Pastor Chris and the singers began to lead us in a few shouts-out to the neighborhood and then moved into the R&B edition of "This is the Day" and a few other songs I didn't know. When this was over it was 11:45. We'd been there and hour and a half and we'd just started.
I confess to you that we had to leave at that point. The loud music, blazing sun, and general bedlam had taken its toll on our 16 month old to the point that she was inconsolable. The other two were content playing in the dirt on the street (sorry mom) and pulling the leaves and flowers off the weeds, but we decided it was time to make our exit.
Since yesterday, I've been thinking about and praying for Joshua Generation and pastor Chris. I'm not trying to say one church is better than another just because it's out on the street, but I can't help but read the Bible and see what kinds of people it mentions as being around Jesus and wonder: Are we missing something?
In a moment both comical and lamentable, the catholic church, which sat on the corner opposite our little street scene, let out their services just at the time JJ's drummers were banging away and the dancers were shakin' it. To quote a popular syrupy Christian song: "I can only imagine" what those people thought. Were they disgusted, amused, dismayed, confused, angered, joyful?
Did they recognized God at work there? Did it make them grieve that they'd missed out on such a large segment of the population around them?
What about me? Did I really care for these people like pastor Chris did? Like those serving did? Like Jesus did? Were many of us there simply out of shame--like we should be doing something? Out of fear--"whatever you've done unto the least of these you've done unto me"? Out of guilt or sense of duty--I ought to do something because I'm white and privileged? Out of hubris and pride--I can fix these people? My guess is that it's a little bit of everything all mixed up together.
I don't know if we'll be back. I would guess we will, but I don't know. I can't guess what's going to happen to that little church, but I believe God's in it.
Still, I know two things: many of the people gathered there wouldn't have been in another church that day if it weren't for Joshua Generation, and, if He could have only chosen one church in Toledo to be, I doubt you would have found Jesus anyplace else either.
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