As recently as a month ago, I could have written you about an amazing staff at SYMin. I could have written about gracious homeless young adults, so appreciative of the ways we are helping them. I could have written about donors who have sent special gifts and ordered or driven by food and supplies to help us respond to the COVID-19 emergencies in the lives of our clients. Instead, I want to take you back just 10 days.
Social distancing was still new, and not everyone was observing it. The lockdown was still voluntary, but we at SYMin had already split ourselves into a “home team” and “drop-by team.” The home team was answering questions by phone and messaging. A slimmed down drop-by team inside our facility was busy for a second day serving clients in a new way outdoors.
It was noon on a pretty spring day and we were opening up to pass our clients plates of food through the gate. We planned afterward to meet and discuss how to respond to other client needs.It was at that moment I saw something that captured my attention.
A young man, I’ll call him Joey, was sitting against the wall, half-naked, dirty, scraped up and wearing a hospital band on his wrist. I walked outside to within six feet of him and asked, “What’s up?” I've known him for a while, but something was terribly different now.
The whole team knows Joey. He's a sweet kid. He loves to sing and dance, and he's very good at both. And he loves meth -- loves the high and the exhilaration it produces. Occasionally, he falls out of love with drugs, but those times are rare. For several months he had been telling me, "I'm OK. I'm happy with my drug use. Don't assume I can't handle things. I’m fine." I just agreed in the moments he asserted himself so strongly, focusing instead on how we could help.
I sat down, again keeping my distance, to learn more. Where were his clothes, and why the hospital bracelet? "Oh, I was in the hospital because I took too much drugs and freaked out last night,” he explained. “I got hurt. I just got out of the hospital with nothing but a gown this morning. I walked all over and found these clothes on the street. These are gross. I need clothes." So, I walked back inside the Drop-in, found him some, and resumed my perch to pick up the conversation.
"I have to stop using drugs,” he said. “I have to get housing. I can't keep living the way I have been. I thought I was handling it, but I wasn't." I agreed. "Can I get some socks and fresh shoes?” he asked. “I just found these behind a dumpster." I walked back inside to get him some shoes. When I returned, he had eaten and changed.
He thought for a minute and agreed. I continued, "You may not be sure about Christians. I know they've done some dumb things to you in your life." He nodded agreement. "You may not be sure about church. You haven't been welcomed or comfortable there." Again, he agreed. "But you know the truth. Capital T-R-U-T-H. God is real, and He's good. This truth is comforting. It's uplifting. And it gives you strength, all of which you could use right now. So, stop arguing with yourself and just enjoy what you already know."
Joey agreed to give it time. He's working out his salvation now. He's working on his relationship with God.
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We will likely have a new normal when the pandemic abates, but I believe we can also emerge stronger from this challenging time. Comfort one another. Uplift one another. Enjoy one another! Rejoice! For HE IS RISEN! And He is with us! Amen.
Terry Cole
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