Homeless Outreach: A Volunteer's Perspective

BY ANDIE KINCAID, DRR VOLUNTEER...FOLLOWING THE NOVEMBER 14TH HOMELESS OUTREACH

Saturday was, for me, the best yet. I feel like I'm getting more and more comfortable every week. After talking to Jay when we'd first arrived this week, I made the personal resolution that it would be better to offend someone by saying something ignorant in my conversation with them then insult them by not attempting to talk to them at all and, thus, ignoring them. After that, I had the opportunity to talk with three different people.

- Nacy, 23 from Mississippi who has a 2 year daughter Jeanay who lives with her grandma. She was sitting behind us on the bench with the pink winnie the pooh jacket. I've seen her before, but I can't wait until next week to go back and remember her name and ask about her daughter.

- I also spent a long time speaking with Colleen. I think she was the woman that Jen Manhart said she'd been speaking with. It was a blessing to play with her precious children who were very much just typical kids who happen to not have a home.

- And thirdly was a man who couldn't speak or respond to us. We decided to call him brother, which he nodded to in approval. He had the coolest bible that I've ever had the privilege of holding and reading from; well warn from travel and study, water warped pages and crinkled covers, but you could just tell it was a dearly cherished possession. We read him scripture that he pointed to, several which were about God providing for/protecting the poor, homeless, and rejected. It was so powerful, a conversation a won't ever forget. He was so desperate for someone to just talk with him, and be close to him...

Prophet Antoine, Teaching Me to Pray (Part Two)

Antoine told me he thought of the DRR in the middle of the night one night the week prior. He woke up and prayed for us. I told him, and I meant it, that for all I knew, the DRR may have been in extreme need for prayer for some reason right then. And I’m glad and comforted that Prophet Antoine was there for us and was receptive to whatever calling he was feeling.

As I mentioned in a previous post…Prophet Antoine is just “off” enough to make him quite a character. But he’s not all the way “off”. And in many, many really odd ways, he’s taught me a LOT about prayer and faith.

Here was my lesson on November 28th:

Antoine asked if I’d lift him up in prayer, asking special blessings for his finances and “keeping his house in order”. I did.

And then he prayed. And he immediately and very passionately started praying for the abandoned buildings that you can see from almost any point in the City of St. Louis:

“Father, I look all around and I see these buildings…and I want ‘em, God. We NEED these buildings, Lord. Give ‘em to me, God! WE NEED THESE BUILDINGS! I want ‘em!!!”

To be very honest, I sort of sniggered at first. And then I thought….WHY NOT???

Antoine knows what he needs. He needs a home. He needs a building. He knows that his brothers and sisters that live on the street with him need shelter. And he knows these buildings are empty and vacant. He knows they could be put to a better use.

So, instead of praying like I do…”Dear God, please take care of my homeless friends as you see fit”, Antoine prayed for what he knew he needed: “Lord, I see these buildings – we need them – give them to us!!!”

And I ask WHY NOT?

Is it a bit outlandish? Maybe? But then again…not really.

Prayer is our time in the throne room of God. Enter the throne room boldly. Ask what you need.

Antoine needs shelter. Why not ask for it?

Then he asked me for prayer cloths, anointing oils, and tracts.

I told him that I didn’t know that I would ever have access to those things…but if I ever see them, I’ll get them for him.

And you bet yer bippy I will.

The following week, Prophet Antoine asked my wife for a walkman that he can use to listen to gospel music. That one we can definitely hook him up with.

We prayed together that week, too. He told me when he opened his eyes after, he saw angels. Yeah, he’s a little “off”. But maybe he did see some angels.

Maybe they hang around the park to keep an eye on our homeless brothers and sisters.

A Beautiful Day...

BY RYAN MIFFLIN

During our November 21st Homeless Outreach, one of our homeless brothers named Will – who’s a new grandfather, by the way – told me his buddy Jimmy needed me. We’ve known Jimmy for several weeks. He’s a very lively young man with a great smile and warm attitude.

But as I approached him, it wasn’t the same Jimmy as I knew before.

I pulled Will aside and asked what was up. Jimmy’s mom had died a few nights before and Jimmy was in bad shape. He’d been crying since she died and a little before we showed up, he started talking to his friends about “doing something crazy, so the cops will have to shoot me”.

My wife used to be a substance abuse counselor and worked in crisis situations. I knew that when someone had a plan it was more serious than just when someone said “I’d like to kill myself”.

I didn’t know if Jimmy’s statements constituted a “plan”, but they constituted enough that I wasn’t going to leave him until I had talked to someone who knew way more than me.

We prayed with Jimmy for a while, and I asked some of our college volunteers to hang with him while I found help. I walked with another volunteer to a nearby church that also doubled as a “drop-in center” for homeless folks. They were closed on Saturday, but we found a few people around the building. They were aware of Jimmy’s situation and even though they weren’t open, they heated up some food and sent one of their hospitality volunteers back with me. They took Jimmy in and hung out with him for the day.

I was touched at how supportive Jimmy’s friends were. They came to get us to pray for him. When the volunteer came back, he didn’t want to go, but his buddies encouraged him to. He did go with them.

I’m not sure how the situation ended. I’ve seen Jimmy’s friends briefly on subsequent trips, but I haven’t seen him. Which isn’t really unusual, so I’m not alarmed by it. And I’m sure Will would tell me if anything exceptional had happened, be it good or bad.

What I do know about the situation is that Jimmy’s mom was not homeless. And they didn’t have the best of relationships. No one offered much specific, but I’m inclined to think he lived on the streets by choice and she didn’t approve. Will told me he didn’t think Jimmy was able to make amends with mom before she passed.

There was a lot of talking about Jimmy needing to go home and be with family, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it.

This, again, brings up the extremely complicated issues that accompany homelessness. Yes, some folks are homeless 100% by choice. And no, not all who choose to be homeless are drug addicts or alcoholics or crazy. Only they know why they choose it.

Please keep Jimmy in your prayers.

After we left Jimmy with the hospitality volunteer from church and said our goodbyes to his friends, Alisha (a college volunteer) and I headed back to the library. She, to study and me to find the rest of our group. A homeless man asked Alisha to have lunch with him on the library steps. She agreed. Not comfortable leaving Alisha alone with someone I didn’t know, I asked if I could join.

The man’s name was Mojo. Which is maybe the coolest name ever. And he was white. Which isn’t a big deal, but you gotta admit – a brotha could carry off the name better than a while guy could :-)

So we hung out with Mojo and had lunch. We talked about technology and how it’s making the world smaller. I’m still not sure why, but my conversation with Mojo remains one of my favorite encounters I’ve had on a Homeless Outreach trip.

One thing I do specifically remember is that he asked about the Dirty Roots Revolution. I told him the mission of the organization – to empower individuals with the knowledge that one person CAN make a difference – and that all pooled our resources, talents, time, etc., to make big things happen. He noted that college students were a big part of it. And he said I was “truly a professor and a student of life”.

That’s one of the best compliments anyone has ever given me. And I’m not sharing it to be prideful. I’m sharing it because I feel like it’s a challenge now. now that I’ve heard that phrase, I need to live up to it.

It’s my job as a father, a husband, a Sunday School teacher, a revolution leader, etc., to be a professor of life.

At the same time, it’s also my job to never, ever stop being a student of life, no matter what.

My homeless brothers and sisters generally serve as professors for me in this endeavor and help me continue to learn.

After we said our goodbyes with Mojo (whom I have unfortunately never met again), I encountered one of the most beautiful things I have ever witnessed with my two eyes.

Lucas Park is on the north side of the library – that’s where we’re not allowed to hand out our care packs, etc., so the residents in the loft apartments don’t have to see homeless folks in groups. They can not, however, legally stop us from gathering in the park and visiting with our friends.

So, that has become custom. Hand out packs on the south side…then head to the north side for visiting.

Since the south side was clear, I figured our group must be in the park.

As I walked around the library, my breath was taken away. I’m not being dramatic – it was actually staggering to me.

Lucas Park is a “depressed section” of land, meaning it’s lower than the sidewalk. So, I was looking down into it.

It was a beautiful, warm day that Saturday and the sun was shining bright.

As I looked into the park, I saw probably 12 different groups of folks. Each group had at least one college student in it. (Our volunteers that day consisted 100% of college students).

Two guys had brought guitars and were playing for one group. One group was standing in a circle, praying, holding hands. One group was reading the Bible. Many groups were just visiting.

I remember consciously thinking to myself, “Stay and watch this. Get a good look. You’re not going to see it again, and this is a BIG deal”. I burned that image into my memory. I don’t ever want to forget what that looked like. It was just that beautiful.

We stayed a long time that day. Eventually, the groups merged into one bigger group and everyone who wanted to listened to music. Some sang. A few even shared songs they’d written – performed for the first time with musical accompaniment. How beautiful do you think it would feel to write a song for your own enjoyment and then teach it to a college student who has a guitar, so you can sing your song with music?

Prophet Antoine

BY RYAN MIFFLIN

Almost as soon as we set up our distribution on Saturday, November 21st, a boisterous and hefty man came right up to me. “Are you the preacher???” he asked.

“Well…I’m not officially a preacher…but I guess I’m probably the one you’re looking for.”

He said we needed to pray.

We held hands and prayed together in the park. He spoke in tongues a little bit and I couldn’t understand a lot of what he said.

But I do remember him talking about a miracle. He was asking for miracles for me and for the Dirty Roots Revolution because, he said, we were “doing God’s work”.

Except the man didn’t ask for a miracle, he “claimed a miracle”.

I found out the man’s name was Prophet Antoine. You gotta love a guy who refers to himself personally as a prophet. And it wasn’t just an adjective, it was part of his name! Prophet Antoine. He’s fond of saying “I’m a minister and a prophet!”

And he is. Because over the last few weeks, he’s taught me a lot. A lot about God and a lot about prayer.

I suppose, in the interest of full disclosure, I should add that Antoine is more than a little unstable. Not “scary” unstable, just a little….”off”.

BUT…

When Prophet Antoine prayed for me that first time, he didn’t ask God for a miracle, he claimed one. It was almost like the miracle had already happened and Antoine wanted to make sure the DRR got in on some of it.

Or, maybe it was as though he EXPECTED a miracle. Why bother asking God for a miracle, when you can tell Him you expect one for people doing His work?

I’ve not been that bold in my prayer, but we are instructed to be bold, right? Maybe Antoine’s onto something…

He asked me to keep him in my prayers and I promised to. I told him to pray for the DRR whenever he thought of us. He said he would.

What a Beautiful Thought

BY RYAN MIFFLIN

One of the biggest blessings I received on the November 14th Homeless Outreach was a reunion with Dewayne. Dewayne is an incredibly happy, youthful middle aged man who asked me a great deal of Biblical questions on Halloween. He asked deep questions about living as a Christian and shining Jesus.

This time when I met him, he immediately asked me if Jesus was hated and eventually killed for things like performing miracles, how come no one came after the people who received the miracles. He asked specifically about Lazarus. If that was one of the reasons people were nervous about Jesus, why didn’t they come after Lazarus, too?

I told him that in many cases people who witnessed miracles and maybe even those who received them WERE persecuted, stoned, and even killed. They were the martyrs.

He also asked why Jesus put so much emphasis on how hard it was for rich people to get to Heaven. We talked about the “easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to get into heaven” passage and the rich young ruler whom Jesus instructed to sell all of his possessions and give the money to the poor.

I told Dewayne that it could be tough, if you think you have all of your needs met, to feel the need to lean on God and rely on Him. This was a very odd conversation, because my two-year-old daughter was on the trip. She was running and I had to run after her every so often.

So, I’d talk to Dewayne a bit…then chase Kate.

“Being rich isn’t bad in and of itself.”
RUN
“When you have a lot, many times you want more”
RUN
“If you think you have what you need, what would you need God for”
RUN
“That’s part of what’s so beautiful about the entire God/Jesus story…”
RUN
“It’s all upside down…”
RUN
“Jesus was born to a poor family…who weren’t married yet…”
RUN
“…who came from a town no one thought highly of…to a poor carpenter…”
RUN
“The angels shared the good news with the shepherds first”
RUN
“If we wrote the story…we’d have the angels go to the media or well-known celebrities, so people would believe it…”
RUN
“People hated shepherds…they were poor and dirty…they were thought to have questionable character and weren’t allowed to give testimony in court…”
RUN
“And these are the people God chose first…then Jesus hung out with all kinds of ‘questionable’ characters…”

I was talking in circles and in bits and pieces. It was out of order and disjointed. I didn’t think it made any sense. I felt horrible, because I really wanted to talk to Dewayne about this. But I also didn’t want my kid to get hit by a car! :-)

One of the final times I returned to our conversation, you could almost literally see a light bulb go off over Dewayne’s head. His eyes got really big and he said one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard:

“So…wait…it’s like…If Jesus were to come back now…he’d maybe COME TO US because WE are the ones who need to hear good news! We need that! We’d believe Him!”

Can you picture for a moment how incredible that realization must have been? I saw it happen to him, so I have a pretty good idea. But I don’t know what it felt like inside his heart.

Dewayne is a recovering alcoholic and/or drug addict. He’s poor. He’s homeless.

And on Saturday, November 14th, he realized that if Jesus Christ walked the earth today, he would make his presence known to someone like Dewayne.

Because the rest of the world would probably not believe Him and the rest of the world would think they don’t need Him and the rest of the world would just keep doing it’s thing.

But folks like Dewayne – broken, poor, hungry, cold, homeless, down and out folks of “questionable character” – need Him. And they would believe Him.

What a beautiful thought.

And then a tougher-to-swallow thought comes next…

Aren’t WE – me and you – the “rest of the world”?

Ever wonder how you’d respond if some (as Kris Kristofferson said) “riddle-speakin’ prophet” showed up, claiming to be the true Son of God?

I’m pretty sure how Dewayne would respond. And Bill. And Antoine. And Jimmy. And Charles. And Bubbles. And Memphis. And Colleen. And Marie.

I’m not so sure about me, though.

My Friend Wayne

BY RYAN MIFFLIN

A few weeks prior to this trip – on our Halloween excursion – I met a man who very sheepishly asked for a food pack and a coat. We didn’t have a coat in his size, unfortunately. Before he left, he asked if he could have a couple of Tootsie Rolls from our candy bowl. We gladly obliged. I even commented in my blog that night that it must have been a nice blessing, something as simple and tasty as a Tootsie Roll.

I didn’t realize how much of a little blessing it might have been…

On November 14th, I met the man again. He asked if we had a coat. I thought we did, but it turns out another volunteer had just given the last big men’s coat away. I gave him some extra care packs, though.

I learned the man’s name was Wayne. I learned he’d been released from prison the day before Halloween. He was originally from St. Louis, but had no family at all and nowhere to go. He’d been in jail for a little over 20 years. He’d secured a room in the Salvation Army Harbor Light Shelter and said he liked it pretty well there.

I didn’t talk to Wayne long, but I enjoyed my visit with him. A lot.

Wayne told me that when he was younger, he’d tried to make some fast money. He traveled to Texas and picked up a kilo of cocaine to bring back to St. Louis and sell. He stopped in East St. Louis and got involved in some kind of tussle. He was shot. He shot someone else. And that someone else died. Wayne was sentenced to forty years in prison. He did half of that sentence and was paroled.

Wayne told me that there wasn’t a day that goes by that he doesn’t regret what he did. That’s a phrase you hear a lot of ex-cons say. But I looked this man in the face and I believe with my whole heart that he meant it. He said he was just a dumb kid that made a dumb mistake. And I believe that, too. I often wonder why we can’t be born old and get younger as we go. We need that wisdom that comes with age in the beginning. Seems like we’d progressively enjoy life more if we could be old first, then get young. Instead of dying, we’d just go back to being a helpless infant. Maybe if he’d been old first, Wayne might have missed this error in his life if he’d been old first.

Wayne told me he talked to God every day and that he’s trying to give his sin to Him. I reminded him that the Bible says if we just confess it and let go of it that God doesn’t even remember it.

We had a really nice talk. Wayne was a very, very respectful and nice man and I enjoyed meeting him. I haven’t seen him since that day. I sincerely hope he’s been able to catch some kind of break. Too many guys in his situation either fall back into old habits or feel forced to do something drastic to make some kind of lucky break for themselves. it doesn’t’ usually end well.

I think of Wayne often.

Interesting Lessons Learned: Nov. 7th

Well, here it is…another month past…another four Homeless Outreach trips under our belt. I must get better at posting weekly blog entries, after each Homeless Outreach trip.

As I work toward that…here’s the first of several blog posts regarding our November trips, for you to enjoy:

This was an absolutely beautiful day. As I offered our usual weekly prayer for the trip, I even said the words, “Father, beautiful days like this always make for amazing Homeless Outreach trips, and we pray for one of those today”. As the words were coming out of my mouth, my brain told me it wasn’t going to happen. I just knew it. It wasn’t any kind of Murphy’s Law expectation…I just realized it wasn’t my place to ask God for an amazing Homeless Outreach day. It was my place to ask Him to be with us, guide us, work through us, and to pray that He be glorified in what we did.

So we headed to St. Louis. And encountered the set-up for the city-wide Veteran’s Day celebration. The downtown area was packed. With spectators, soldiers, military vehicles, etc. We made it to 14th Street and had just two blocks to go to our usual destination when a squad of about 400 troops marched out in front of us in formation. They weren’t moving. We couldn’t turn left because it was a one-way street. We couldn’t turn right because the road was barricaded. A soldier finally moved the barricades to let us through. We weaved through the tanks, jeeps, and whatnot, and received glares from other soldiers who weren’t aware why we were cutting through their area. They let us proceed and we found our usual parking spots blocked. We finally parked – three blocks away from our usual distribution point. Not a big deal, except for the fact that we had several cars full of coats and blankets that no one felt like lugging three blocks.

We walked the care packs over to our usual spot and handed them out. We asked our homeless brothers and sisters to accompany us to the cars after the distribution if they were interested in coats and blankets. We caused many traffic jams in the parking lot, which in turn caused a few irate drivers.

The Veteran’s Day parade was indeed beautiful and festive. And it went on forever. My mind kept returning to my homeless friend Pops. Pops (real name John) is an Army veteran. He retired in the early nineties after over twenty years of service. And is now homeless.

I know this is awful, and I don’t say it to push buttons. But, as that Veteran’s Day parade went by that Saturday, I kept wondering to myself if they had a section in it for homeless vets. I’m sure they didn’t. But, there sure are a lot of homeless men and women who served their country bravely for several years.

I didn’t see Pops this day. But the next week I learned that, just as I expected, he was dutifully perched on a street corner, enjoying the Veteran’s Day parade. I’ll bet he saluted when the flag went by, too. All those old-school guys do that. I love it.

Days that big events are held downtown are usually “off” days for the Homeless Outreach. Most of the homeless folks head toward the crowds to panhandle (which I don’t blame them at all for) and we don’t encounter many of them.

The whole day was off kilter, save for one encounter.

During our care pack distribution we met Lisa. As she walked up, I could tell that she was homeless and I could tell it was new. She had nice glasses. Like “Sarah Palin nice” glasses. She was very attractive and didn’t carry herself like the rest of the folks we met with on a regular basis.

I visited with her a bit and gave her one of our car packs. It was toiletry week. She was very appreciative. We spoke a little and her eyes welled up with tears several times. Whatever her experience had been, I could tell it was still raw.

This week was the start of our new Homeless Outreach schedule. We hand out our care packs on the south side of the public library and once they’re all gone, we now go over to Lucas Park on the north side of the library. Originally, we did the distribution in Lucas Park, but the tenants of the loft apartments around the park call the cops on us for attracting homeless folks.

So, at the request of city officials – who knew they couldn’t legally do anything about what we were doing – we moved the distribution to the south side of the library.

At any rate, as we went over to Lucas Park to visit with our homeless friends, we met up with Lisa and her friend Keyana. Keyana was about 8 months pregnant and we found out she’d secured a spot in a shelter for homeless pregnant women. We lovingly told her we hoped we didn’t see her the next week. And, praise God, we haven’t!

We all sat around, visiting with Lisa for a few hours. We learned that she was in fact newly homeless. We learned that prior to being homeless she was in outside sales for a paint company, selling paint to places like Home Depot and Lowes. We learned that less than a year ago she was making a six-figure salary and had a home beside the ocean.

We didn’t ask her what had led to her current situation. But it served as a reminder not to judge homeless folks based on what you THINK about them. They’re not all uneducated. They’re not all drug addicts or crazy. They’re not all lazy. Some are. But, lots of folks who have nice homes are uneducated, drug addicts, crazy, and/or lazy, too.

How far are you from being homeless? I’m probably a couple of house payments away from it. We’re a single income family with no savings account. We make it – but we just make it. Take my paycheck away and who knows what could happen. Now, in our case, my wife and I both have families and friends that we know we could count on to help us out. Lisa, for whatever reason, just didn’t have the same opportunities.

Lisa contacts us via email every so often. She moved to the northern part of the city, where she thought she could find more job opportunities. Yes, homeless folks have email. They use the internet at the public libraries throughout the city. Sometimes to keep in contact with people, but most often to look for jobs. And yes, they have cell phones, too. They save up money they acquire and purchase TracPhones and pre-paid calling cards from gas stations. Again, to help them with job situations, etc.

Homeless folks are NOT all lazy, uneducated, crazy, or drug addicted. Many of them are quite hard working. In fact, many of them have full time jobs. But they don’t make enough money to make ends meet. And it is NOT always just a matter of money mismanagement. They simply do not make enough.

This was one of the lessons learned on Saturday, November 7th.

The other lesson was not to selfishly pray for beautiful, awesome days. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. But sometimes…maybe God wants to bless you with a completely lopsided, off-kilter day that teaches you all kinds of lessons.