Dirty

Dirty, Filthy, Violent, Smelly, Disgusting, and Hopeless…these were the kind of descriptive words that were floating through my mind when I was first informed about our impending day of service at Skid Row. We started off at the chapel situated on the grounds of the dream center and Matt the leader of the under the bridge ministry, led the volunteers in prayer.

We gamely boarded the mini-van and set off to our destination, we were a real motley crew of: French, British, American…young and old. I silently listened to rest of the volunteer’s conversations while looking for the signs that we had finally arrived. It was totally unexpected to see the sunshine; I almost expected the sun to hide behind the clouds. The buildings showed signs of neglect and there was litter strewn across the streets but overall I almost started to feel slightly hopeful, since the images I first saw, did not match up with my initial imaginings.

On arrival, I helped the skid row volunteer veterans to set up by carrying in the cargo of hot food to the site…then I saw the people. In the beginning it was hard to look at the people of Skid Row, it was uncomfortable as I saw their needs too easily. After we set up the food tables I noticed a lady who looked anorexic, stumbling past with a plate of food given to her by one of our volunteers. Her eyes hardly registered anyone around her and I was painfully aware of the bandages that were barely covering the open sores on her body and the dirty IV drip that was hanging from her right arm.

I began to make myself look into the people’s eyes as they passed by with their carefully balanced plates. To really see the faces of the people that Jesus died for. As I looked around at the floor of the drop-in center and the many bodies that were crashed out on the ground from drugs or sleep deprivation, I began to realize how naive I was.

Not even my imagination could have prepared me for this amount of desperation. And I started to feel their hopelessness and sensed the spiritual battles being waged over their lives. When we first got there I stayed pretty close to the volunteers and eventually broke away to walk around the center to just pray quietly, looking for anyone who needed someone to talk to.

The few people that I was able to speak with were really precious to me. It was their stories that encouraged me. To hear their tentative responses for: a happier future, for renewed dreams and restored relationships. It was this delicate hopefulness they had that pointed out God’s grace at work in their lives, and I was able to hope with them.

-Chaka