Saturday June 23
10:00pm
Starting tomorrow, I’m homeless. What’s even crazier is that I’ll be homeless voluntarily. In April, Craig and I began sensing God calling us to spend 7 days and 7 nights on the streets of Canada’s poorest neighborhood, Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside. At first, I wrestled to discern if I was being motivated by radicalism or love. But after months of prayer, reading the gospels’ accounts of how Jesus modeled mission, and seeking the counsel of the rest of the Servants Vancouver team, Craig and I are convinced.
We are quite excited about what we’ll learn firsthand about the lives of our homeless friends. We’re pretty sure there is no greater way to learn than to experience it ourselves. And of course it will be a fantastic way to make more friends down here, on an equal footing – rather than as service providers.
In essence this next week will be a spiritual retreat. No work! Nothing to do all day except figure out where our next meal is coming from (We’ve decided not to take any money with us).
We also want to do this as a gesture of solidarity with the growing number of people becoming homeless as the city moves with tunnel-vision towards the 2010 Olympics. Basically, inner city low income housing, such as rooming houses, are rapidly being turned into high end condos by speculators and developers, despite written promises by the government that they would protect this low income housing stock and build more. Instead, the number of homeless here has doubled to over 2000 people in the past 3 years and is expected to triple by the Olympics.
Father, teach me to love as You have loved me. I can do nothing apart from You. I am Your child, not a professional missionary. To be honest, I often don’t know how to love my homeless neighbors. Speak to Craig and I this next week. Fill our hearts with Your compassion. A soldier does not ask for ease; to suffer should be expected. I do not anticipate that this next week will be easy; be our Sustainer. Come what may, uphold our joy in You. Your name be praised, Your kingdom come, Your will be done…in our lives…in Vancouver…in Indonesia…on all the earth…as it is in heaven. Amen.
Sunday June 24
11:30pm
Today has been one long, exhausting day. After attending church, we packed up the house, loaded the truck, and moved everything to the new house. Craig and I said goodbye to the rest of the community, and ventured downtown.
At 8:30pm our time being homeless began.
Walking down Hastings St., I spotted people waving a sign on top of a yellow school bus. “Free Food from the Sikh Community” it read. Craig and I snagged a bag comprised of cookies, a wrap, and a bottled water.
We kept walking as we wanted to see more of what nightlife is like in the DTES. Outside the police station we saw a line of people. “Let’s go see what they are getting.” Soup, pastries, and coffee…compliments of the Salvation Army’s mobile kitchen. The volunteers didn’t really talk to any of us; but I’m just happy for something warm on a cold night. Manna from heaven! Two unexpected meals in just two hours.
As I write, we are settling down for the night. We found some clean cardboard on top of a dumpster in Chinatown. It took awhile to decide on a place to sleep for the night. We finally chose a nice park on the edge of Chinatown. I spread out my cardboard under a park light (for safety) on some terraced grass. The park is only two blocks from the hustling nightlife of the DTES, still it seems like an entirely different world. I’m surrounded by high-rise luxury lofts. These residential skyscrapers seem like giants ready to trample on us homeless.
As a young boy, my image of poverty came from that man on TV in the early 1990s who asked for money while being surrounded by orphans in Africa. Poverty happened somewhere far away. Now I know that’s not true. Poverty and wealth typically live right next to each other. For example, the poorest and wealthiest zip code regions in the United States neighbor each other in Birmingham, Alabama. In Los Angeles, multi-million dollar condos border Skid Row, home to thousands of homeless. The same is true here in Vancouver. Two of the city’s most popular tourist destinations (Gastown and Chinatown) hug the Downtown Eastside.
**Mental Note: If a park has lush green grass, assume that’s because there is a sprinkler system! That was a close call! All of a sudden sprinklers started going off. I had enough time to grab my bag, Bible, and journal (Thanks God!)…but the cardboard did not escape the sprinkler’s wrath. That could have been a lot worse. Now we are on benches.
Father, according to Your will, keep us safe, warm, and joyous tonight.
Monday June 25
9:27am
Granting two out of three prayer requests aint too bad. Thank You for keeping us safe and at least longing for joy last night. We were quite cold. I only had one blanket, which could not cover my face and feet at the same time. We were awake most of the night, shivering. We slept in three different parks, all on benches with cold air coming up from below. We had to walk around every few hours to heat our bodies up.
I shivered in Crab Park (by the water) from 5am to 7am when we then went to the Dugout for free coffee and soup. From 7:45-8:30am, we sat on the steps outside the Carnegie Hall community center. I was repeatedly offered rock (cocaine). We went to see if the Listening Post was open (it wasn’t) but two guys invited us into the Aboriginal Front Door for a pastry. Someone there mentioned First United Methodist Church had free blankets, so we went there. They only had three, and there were three of us asking for blankets. Thanks Lord for providing!
Lord I don’t have the strength to last all week in this cold. Uphold us. Continue to keep us safe. Fill my heart with compassion. Help me focus on You and not on the struggles. Anoint me with joy. May I speak of Your goodness with every breath.
10:30am
Lord, I’m so exhausted, sleepy, and cold. I can’t get warm. I can’t last a week on my own strength. What a beautiful position to be in! I know that only You can sustain me through this week. You promised Gideon victory, yet at one point in the battle he and his men were on the verge of fainting due to exhaustion and dehydration. They asked for water, and people refused to give them any. Father, I know following You involves suffering at times. I do not ask for You to pamper us with warm weather and no trials. But please, be our strength.
2:00pm
I’m at the main library. At 11:25, Craig and I had lunch at Harbor Light, a Salvation Army shelter. Then I read/rested in the “T.V.” room at Evelyn’s Center. Everyone in that room just listened to the radio (the TV was not on) while staring at the wall. They don’t let you fall asleep there. You must remain awake.
I’m reading The Perfect Joy of St. Francis. I figure it will be quite applicable this week. I’m realizing that my physical body cannot survive this level of voluntary poverty.
May my joy not dwindle and may I be attentive to where You are at work around me.
6:30pm
Just had dinner. It was the same as lunch. Soup. Come to think of it, that’s what I had for breakfast too. Soup. That was dinner last night also. Four straight meals of soup. The initial joy of “manna” has diminished.
Tuesday June 26
11:14am
Last night, Craig and I played bingo at Evelyn’s Center. What a mind-numbing game! With each of us having nine boards to play on, there was little time for talking. Lord, bring purpose into people’s lives!
We then sat in the TV room until 10:45pm (closing time). We watched CSI and Sopranos. Both shows had graphic drug usage, violence, and prostitution. Lord, these shows glamorize my neighborhood’s addictions and neglect to show the consequences. These are not the shows they need to be showing down here!
At 11pm we went searching for cardboard. In Chinatown we found an unlocked “cardboard only” dumpster. Other than a strong fish smell, the boxes were a good find!
Craig and I made our beds outside an unrented store front. Within ten minutes we were kicked out by a private security guard. You see their patrol cars everywhere. I tried sleeping on the steps of a church, but another hired patrol guard came and said, “Hey buddy, you can’t sleep there!” I bit my tongue because I really wanted to reply, “If I can’t sleep on the steps of a building owned by people who worship a homeless Savior, then where can I sleep?” Instead, Craig and I moseyed back to the cold park benches south of Chinatown.
I was warm when I fell asleep, but I awoke at 1am freezing cold. I shivered and slept off and on until 3:30am. At that point, Craig and I decided it was time to walk around and get some blood circulating. We ended up sitting on the sidewalk outside the bank opposite Carnegie Center. We were too cold to sleep. So we watched the night scene at Carnegie.
Craig’s eyes were swollen from allergies and we both couldn’t take the cold any more. So we walked down Carnegie alley and discovered a 24 hour clinic. Warmth! There were about 40 people attempting to sleep on chairs. Others watched yet another violent, drug-using, prostitution-glamorizing movie. Seems like the wrong medicine for that clinic to be giving to my neighbors.
We stayed there until dawn and then returned to our “cozy” benches. I slept soundly until 9am, and awoke warm and rested! At 9:30am we met Nay, Amy, and the kids at our friend Peter’s café (in the heart of the DTES). It was great to see them.
9:46pm
We had lunch at Union Gospel Mission. Manna again. I then read/slept in Oppenheimer park until 3pm. Before lying down on the park grass, one is wise to check for syringe needles and seagull crap. I was so tired I could barely read. I decided a new location might help, so I trekked to Vancouver’s main library. Read and checked emails. Told my Mom I’m alive, cold, but full of joy.
Craig and I met up for dinner, but our referral sheet had the wrong time. No dinner tonight. I wish I hadn’t thrown out that wrap from the Sikhs. I’m currently sitting in the Carnegie Center until they close at 11pm.
Help us to find a place to sleep tonight! As You see best, keep us warm, safe, dry, and rested. Give Nay and Amy energy to love on the kids. Only You will get us through this week. Teach me; may I be filled with compassion. I want to preach and model Your love like St. Francis.
Welfare Wednesday tomorrow. I’ve heard it will be like Mardi Gras in the DTES.
Wednesday June 27
3:45pm
Yesterday we heard it was going to rain at night, so Craig and I settled down under a bridge in a skatepark. The park’s sign said “everyone welcome” and that the park is always open. We figured no one would come skating at 11:30pm. We were wrong. No sooner had we dumpster dived at a construction site (found some great padded insulation) and made our beds than four skaters and a BMX biker appeared. We felt bad as we were sleeping under one of the best ramps.
After moving off to the side, we noticed a young man searching for half-used smokes. This is a common sight in the DTES, people scraping for drug residue in sidewalk cracks or picking up half-used cigarettes. The young man came over and asked if he could join us. Lex began to tell us his story. His body twitched as it fought its craving for crack. Lex had been clean for two days. Though, he shared with us that he didn’t think he would be strong enough to overcome the temptation to buy crack once he received his welfare check tomorrow. Lex also warned us to be careful in the DTES tomorrow (Welfare Wednesday). He said lots of people get mugged and have their money stolen.
We all talked until 1am when a private security guard told us to move. “But the sign says everyone is welcome, sir” I mentioned. “Everyone with a skateboard” he jeered back. “Where are we allowed to sleep?” asked Lex. Mocking the guard snickered, “In a house, duh!”
“In a house, duh!”? So being homeless is illegal. The amount welfare provides for housing is only enough to rent a tiny, one-room SRO (Single Room Occupancy hotel). There are no cooking facilities, and you share a bathroom with everyone else on the floor. It’s safer to sleep on the streets. Less violence, rape, cockroaches, and rats. The SROs are almost all run by slumlords who refuse to fix their dilapidated buildings.
“In a house, duh!”? With all the speculation surrounding Vancouver’s 2010 Olympics, the housing market is booming. The average house in Vancouver increased 24% in value last year. I don’t know of a single house in the Downtown Eastside that, despite its age, small size, and run-down state, is selling for less than a million dollars.
“In a house, duh!”? Just like in the States, people in Vancouver love to talk about minimum wage. Why not talk about a livable wage? A livable wage is the hourly amount required to have all your basic needs met when working a fulltime job. For example, in California minimum wage is set at $6.75 an hour. Yet, a livable wage for Los Angeles is estimated at $17 an hour. For Philadelphia, minimum wage is $6.25 yet a livable wage is estimated at $14.75 per hour. Any minimum wage that is below a livable wage is unjust. What’s more, as our friend Dave asks his students, where is all the talk about establishing a maximum wage?
Lex showed us a quiet spot on the dock by Science World. In three years, Olympic Village will be standing where we slept. But for last night, all was peaceful. I think the cold will be a permanent guest each night this week. Tonight it is suppose to rain again.
Rain. It’s a minor inconvenience for those with houses, but for those of us on the streets, it’s a catastrophe.
Had lunch at Union Gospel Mission (UGM). For once, no soup! Hallelujah. I lined up outside the building fairly early. There was only one other guy waiting. I struck up a conversation with him, and he quickly began to share his story:
Matt has been homeless for one week. He is not using any alcohol or drugs to dull the pain of having his dignity crushed. Though a Canadian citizen, Matt had been living in Alaska for the past three years. Unfortunately, he did not realize that his visa had expired. Matt was deported last Friday.
With $20 in his pocket, no identification, and no belongings, he somehow managed to hitchhike to Vancouver. He’s been sleeping at UGM, while working with the welfare office to get some money to rent an SRO room and have new identification cards made so that he can apply for work. Matt graduated from college with a degree in graphic arts. He confessed that six years ago he spent six months addicted to crack cocaine. I invited him to my birthday party tomorrow.
Father, help Matt to get back on his feet. May he get out of the DTES. Don’t allow him to be lured back to cocaine, like a dog to its own vomit (Pr. 26:11). Remind him of my party tomorrow so that he can experience the love of a Christian community.
Thursday June 28
3:16pm
Craig and I slept south of Science World last night. We had to walk over a mile to find a place out of the rain. Despite the precipitation, the temperature remained fairly warm through the night. I slept soundly until the sun woke us up at 5:30am. I hate to brag, but I had the most luxurious bed to sleep on last night! Craig and I spotted one-inch think sheets of Styrofoam yesterday evening. Padding and insulation all in one!
For my birthday breakfast I enjoyed a nice cup of burning hot soup, some liquid substance they called coffee, and stale bread.
At 9:30am I walked to First United Methodist Church for coffee and day-old pastries. I ended up having a great conversation with an adamant atheist. What started out as three older men (Loren, John, and William) trying to draw me in to their endless philosophical debates, transitioned to John venting his anger towards Christians on me. John had some very sound reasons for being frustrated by the Christianity he witnesses almost every day in the Downtown Eastside.
“I’m sick of seeing Christians come down here all smiley and happy, singing songs on street corners, handing out a few hotdogs, telling us we can be saved from an eternal hell, and then driving home. You Christians need to wake up to reality. My neighbors are dying down here, yet you all simply view my neighborhood as your next short-term missions project. Come for a week, feel good about yourselves, and go home. You’re nothing but monsters. Vampires who drain people of their life-giving dignity so that your pride can increase. You always have to be the providers…reminding us that we are helpless recipients. You never come to us as equals, as friends. But that’s probably because it takes time to build friendships, but my neighbors are only worth a day, or at most a week, of your time. You Christians don’t know what it means to love in practical ways until it hurts.”
Sometimes God chooses to color outside of the box. If He could use Jethro, a leader of another religion, to counsel Moses, then I suspect God can use an angry atheist to speak prophetically to the Western church. Will we have ears to hear?
After John and I finished chatting, I had one hour to get ready for my birthday party. I had heard a rumor that there were free showers and razors at Evelyn’s Center. I played a couple games of pool (lost both) while waiting my turn for a shower room. By the time my number was called, I had just enough time to wash my hair in the sink and scrape off a week’s worth of facial hair with a cheap disposable razor. Then I was off to meet up with Craig, Nay, Amy, and the kids at Peter’s café. As I walked to the café, I prayed that God would remind some of my neighbors I invited to come.
The party ended up being a great time. Amy and the kids baked a cake for me and put lots of thought into creating a birthday card. What made the party extra special is that Matt and Stan remembered to come. Stan even brought a card and gift. Matt arrived fairly depressed as he had his welfare money stolen from him while he slept yesterday. It was great to see him smiling and laughing by the end of the party.
Father, draw Matt to You; transform His life. Provide for Matt’s needs. Thank You for reminding me of how transformative it is when we welcome people into a loving Christian community as family.
Friday June 29
8:10 pm
Last night, Craig and I walked a good mile before we found cardboard. Still, You provided! During the night, it poured for a few hours. There is nothing like waking up to cold rain upon your face. Thankfully, we were able to get out of the rain before we were soaked. Still, I’m sure many of my homeless neighbors were not as lucky.
In the monotony of being homeless, food is the one thing I have looked forward to each day. It structures much of your day. To be honest, I have eaten so much this week. Free food is abundant in the Downtown Eastside.
• 7:30am Go to the Dugout for soup, coffee, and a stale bun.
• 8:30am First United Methodist Church for soup and coffee.
• 9:30am First United Methodist Church for more coffee, sandwiches, and donuts.
• 11:00am Harbor Light for soup, bread, and cake. No drink provided.
• 12:00pm Union Gospel Mission. Sometimes soup, sometimes real food! Coffee, and cake.
• 12:30pm Oppenheimer Park staff provide a meal.
• 1:00pm Mission Possible for soup and dessert pastries.
• 3:00pm Franciscan Sisters for two sandwiches and soup.
• 5:00pm Harbor Light. Soup, bread, and cake. Again, no drink provided.
• 7:00pm Union Gospel Mission. Sermon followed by real food, coffee, and cake. Best food in the Downtown Eastside.
Of course, this doesn’t include the almost daily handouts from religious groups that drive in for a few hours. Their surprise arrival breaks up our monotonous daily schedule and provides relief from the never ending soup, bad coffee, and day-old donuts. Still, I wish these groups knew that my homeless neighbors are not starving for food; they are starving for friendships. The loneliness I see down here is the worst form of poverty.
Saturday June 30
7:46 am
We slept on the ramp of Evelyn’s Center last night. It’s a popular place amongst the homeless to sleep. Thankfully, there was room for Craig and I to join the regulars. I only slept an hour or two, as the cold kept me awake. It was a cold that makes your bones ache.
Although, by the time the sun dawned, my bladder was also aching. For some reason, the city of Vancouver does not open the public bathrooms on weekends. After searching over an hour for an open restroom, I ran into Matt who was attempting the same. We finally walked about a mile to the Pacific Center train station.
After emptying my bladder, I decided to stay here in the train station in hopes of getting warm. However, I just watched a security guard walk in to the train station’s McDonalds and tackle a homeless man to the ground who was standing in line to order. I better leave before I’m next.
Sunday 7-1-2007
8:00 am
We slept on the ramp at Evelyn’s Center again. Matt joined us, as you can only stay at Union Gospel Mission five nights in a row. He had no blanket, so we gave him one of ours. Again, it was quite a cold night. We all barely slept.
I awoke at 6:30 am to find Craig and Matt gone. Matt had placed his blanket over my feet. Since we finish up our time on the streets today I gave a blanket to some guys who had just arrived to sleep for a few hours. As I walked to find a bathroom, I passed Craig asleep on a bench. He had given both his blankets away, so I put my second blanket on him.
Father, thank You for guiding our time this week. Thank You for strengthening us to endure. I finish this week full of questions. Continue to be my master teacher. Oh how I long to see Your kingdom spread here in Vancouver, throughout Indonesia, and to the ends of the earth. Send forth more laborers!
12:00 pm
Before picking up our bikes and riding home, Craig and I went to a church in the Downtown Eastside. The congregation’s average age was probably sixty years old, and I saw no kids. Like most of the churches in the Downtown Eastside, as the neighborhood changed, the congregations moved elsewhere. Now, those that continue to attend commute in each week.
The vicar asked his congregation, “Since Jesus was homeless, what does that mean for us who seek to follow Him?” After the service, another vicar invited Craig and I to stay for some refreshments. As I got in line for the food, a lady turned to me and condescendingly remarked, “Young man, it is very rude to be dressed like that in church. You should have at least taken your hat off at the altar.”
I wanted to blurt back, “I’m sorry, I must have forgotten to remove my hat as I was too busy confessing my sins,” but I knew my reaction was not motivated by love. Instead, I forced a smile, apologized, picked up my bag and left.
As I descended the church’s steps, I laughed in order to hold back the tears. I am like this church. I hear the call to die to myself and love my neighbor as Jesus loved me. Yet, as much as I long to follow this homeless Jesus, my flesh is always beckoning me in a different direction. The vicar’s question and the woman’s comment; my longing to love the poor and my innate tendency to instead only love myself. Yes, this church reminds me of myself.
Thank You Lord for so patiently molding me into Your image. I mess up often, yet You continue to hold and shape me in Your caring hands. Thank You for not giving up on me. Thank You for not giving up on us, Your church.
