Reality and Restoration and Stuff on the Streets

He usually wears a smile and he has a different earring every time I see him. Every finger wears a ring, contrasting the dirt under his nails and worn hands. I don't think we've ever had a conversation, he's usually muttering to himself as he pours a cup of coffee, stirs in creamer, and dumps way too much sugar into the cup.

Michael Marshall.

Just another homeless guy. Likely judged by most who see him on the streets and assume he's a drug addicted alcoholic who shouldn't be helped or humanized because he deserves what he gets.

Michael Marshall.

A friend. A regular. A favorite. Known by those at Network, staff and clients. In fact, when you go to the Network website, his smiling face, filled with laughter, is first to greet you. You'll see him in the Network video, sunglasses on, earbuds in, head shaking to the music we can't hear.

Michael Marshall.

A brother. Someone with family who cares.

Michael Marshall.

Not a nameless face with a cardboard sign on the street corner. He has a name, he has family, he has friends.

Tonight I received this text,

"Hey friends, sorry to interuupt your Friday evening... Something ugly has happened to one of our regulars and favorites..."

From one of the directors over at Network, linking us to a news story telling us of Mike's arrest and violent encounter with Denver police, resulting in him having a "massive heart attack." He is now on life support in intensive care at Denver Health.

I could say so many things. I could talk about how horrible it is that our system is not set up to care for the mentally ill. "According to the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, 20 to 25% of the homelesspopulation in the United States suffers from some form of severe mental illness. In comparison, only 6% of Americans are severely mentally ill."

We could talk about police brutality. Folks whose job is to protect and serve, and yet often are the broken people in this deeply broken system acting out the violence rather than protecting from it. And I could go on because this incident ties all my worlds together, with this police violence against a black man being exactly what the Black Lives Matter movement is talking about, and the lack of care for the poor and marginalized.

Oh I could talk about these issues, these deep injustices and violences against humanity (against all of humanity, the oppressor and the oppressed are both suffering violence). My heart is so broken and so longing for the healing of this world.

But tonight, I'm just overwhelmed by sadness.

We often live in multiple worlds, say our work world from 8am to 5pm and then our "lives" with family, friends, hobbies, and such. We can bounce back and forth, leaving work at work and not letting it affect our lives.

But relationships don't work that way. You can't turn them off and stop caring, because there's something so deep in your soul connected with the people you care about, you can't compartmentalize them, separate the worlds.

And I'm tired of being expected to turn it off. To turn off the sorrow at injustice, the worry for my homeless friends, the heartbreak at the racism plaguing our world.

I cannot compartmentalize the tragedies.

I know it's hard to understand, because for me, my time spent with the homeless isn't just volunteering. It's not me doing a good thing so I can feel good about myself because I helped someone. It's time spent with friends, it's the place I want to be.

When I get to see Alan or Jerry at church on Sunday, I'm overjoyed. When I see a friend pitching their tent outside or flying a sign on the street corner, I struggle to hide the tears welling in my eyes.

Sometimes, I don't know how to just go on living, to not be constantly affected by the tragedies. There are weeks where I'm filled with hope, there are weeks where the heaviness of the stories I hear weigh me down.

And it's like I'm expected sometimes to just turn it off. As if I don't know the things I know, haven't seen the things I've seen, don't care in the ways I care. Like I can choose moments to exist in a world that isn't deeply affected by the brokenness all around, the brokeness that so many do choose to simply never see.

Like it's so hard for me to go downtown at night to just hangout or have fun. I see folks on the streets, in the cold, trying to find a place to sleep. And I'm out to drink a little and laugh a lot with friends and go back to my warm bed and privileged home. And often people don't even see them, and they're all I can see.


Seared in my mind, people and their things strewn across the sidewalk outside Samaritan House.

How do I just go on with my life when my heart is breaking and I can't just turn off all the tragedies?

I remember going downtown once with a friend. We were wandering around and found a bar to check out. There was a man with a cardboard sign sitting on the sidewalk outside the place. We got to the bouncer, pull out our IDs. All I could think about was how I was going to spend $5-7 on a drink, when this guy is hungry and in need. So I walked away from the bouncer and gave the guy the cash I had, then went back to get my ID checked. I think the young guy's name was Roger, he's all I could think about.

And so tonight, when I get that text. When I learn a friend is on life support. That his mental illness, not understood or cared about, likely affected the cops interactions with him, ending in the police enacting violence and Mike having a heart attack. When I learn this, how do I just go on with my Friday evening plans like nothing has happened? There's nothing I can do, except sit beside Jesus and give Him my burdens. But the heartbreak is still so real.

Some days, the world just feels so heavy.

That doesn't mean I cry myself to sleep every night and fight back tears every moment of the day. There is hope for this broken, wounded world.

But the world still feels heavy, and the work is finding the balance between reality and restoration.

- - - - -

"[Network] is the living room of Christ. It is a place where we communicate dignity to those who don't experience much dignity in the city."

Justice and Jesus

Someone asked me what "got me into social justice work."

I didn't really know how to respond.

I told him nothing really "got me into social justice work," that I honestly couldn't pinpoint a time when suddenly justice work began to matter to me.  I can't imagine not caring.

I told him that I've always seen brokenness and longed for restoration. From a young age I found myself wanting to help people, the earliest I remember is being eight and wanting to adopt kids when I grew up. It was never a question, for me, of if I would help people, but rather who I would help. Because the reality is my heart is constantly in a state of brokenness.

My heart was breaking.
My heart is break
ing.

For me, Jesus and justice have never been separate. Loving Jesus and living out that love in acts of justice, compassion, kindness and mercy are utterly inseparable concepts.

I got lucky. I was raised in the church and had the unique joy of being raised by a family and in a community that practiced what it preached, looked around and reaching out to those in need.

For example. I remember when I was little, maybe 7 or 8, I had a friend named Dimesha. I honestly don't know how we knew her, or where she lived, but I know she was at our house a lot. She was like a sister to me. I think she lived with her grandma, and somehow we kinda adopted her. My mom homeschooled her along with the rest of us kids for a bit. She was always over to play, for holidays, birthdays. She belonged. As a kid, that was completely normal. I never questioned why she was there, why my parents would add yet another child to the many they already had, why they would care for a kid not their own, why she would become one of their own. Looking back, I can see how unique that was. Parents so willing to lay down comfort and normalcy to care for someone who just needed someone.

Justice and Jesus were never separate concepts. I was raised hearing about Jesus' love and seeing it lived out in the way my parents and my community cared for those around them.

So when my friend explained to me that most people involved in activism or social justice work have experienced some great injustice or oppression to propel them into justice-work, I had to respond that I didn't have a trigger point or a defining moment. I've simply always cared.

I honestly hesitate to say that because I feel like it's just me tooting my horn. But here's the thing. It's not. Because the reality is that Jesus and justice absolutely cannot be separated, and I've just been incredibly lucky that those never got separated for me.

The tragedy is that so many people do separate Jesus from justice-work, as if social movements and "sharing the Gospel" are separate actions.

See I think we've done a terribly thing in the world of Christianity by acting as if there is a difference between a "social Gospel" and one that you share with people on street corners and on airplanes that tells people they're a sinner in need of a savior.

The Gospel was never about praying a prayer that would save your soul from hell.

The Gospel is the good news of a God who cares so deeply for the oppressed that He died, conquered death, and rose victorious. The Gospel is about the Kingdom of God and restoring a broken world. And at some point we forgot that the Kingdom of God is here and now and that restoration isn't to be saved for some time far away with golden streets and angels floating on clouds. Restoration is for today.

And restoration is justice, mercy, compassion and grace.

The reality is, I shouldn't have to tell someone I'm a follower of Christ. My life should look so much like Jesus people don't even have to ask. Our lives should look so much like Jesus that people want to know Him.

And what does it look like to live like Jesus?

Justice, mercy, love, compassion and grace.

We are missing so much when Jesus gets boiled down to a few points and a pretty painted picture hung on a wall. We forget that actions speak louder than words, and that Jesus modeled that by caring for the poor. He came to heal the brokenhearted, set the oppressed free.

We, as people who say we follow Christ, cannot continue separating justice from Jesus. Justice is not something some are called to. If you believe in Christ, then you believe in a God who is heartbroken over injustice, who cares deeply for the poor and oppressed, who tells His people that true religion is caring for the poor and needy, for the widow and orphan in their need. If you believe in Jesus, you believe in a God who is restoring this broken world and that means binding up the brokenhearted, setting the oppressed free, releasing the captive.

We must stop asking if we will engage in a life of justice, but rather where God is leading us to live and give and who He is leading us to serve.

Justice and Jesus are inseparable, and that is why I have no moment of choosing to care about justice, other than the moment I chose to surrender my life to Christ.

- - - - - - - - 

I spent the past few weeks in Ferguson, MO, participating in non-violent protests about Mike Brown's death, the non-indictment of Darren Wilson, the mass incarceration of black and brown men in the US, and other systemic injustices. This experience has truly changed my life. As I just said, I've always cared about justice, my passion runs even deeper now. I'm processing the many things I have seen, the ways I've been challenged, the places I've grown. My faith and relationship with the Lord have grown and my eyes have been opened to seeing God as so much bigger than ever before. Over the next few weeks and months, I will be writing about this experience. Some of these writings will be more about what I've seen and more in regards to the issues regarding Mike Brown and this movement that has sprung from his tragic death, my experience in Ferguson, giving more information than the mainstream media gives, and such. I will also be writing about how this has challenged me and grown me as a person and in my faith. I'll share photographs, potentially some poetry, and the random ramblings of my 2:00AM brain (aka this post). Please engage with me, with questions, comments, concerns. I have been changed, I hope you will be too.