On Wednesday nights Daniel and I attend a Bible study affiliated with our church. We call them kinships. Each week we alternate which family provides dinner for the whole lot of us. Yesterday was my turn so I cooked up some yummy chili and pumpkin bread (what else?!). We piled all of the dinner fixings, Daniel's instruments and Liam (and his paraphernalia) into the car and off we went. We didn't get very far.
As we drove up our street we drove past a man and a woman who were clearly drugged out of their minds- she, barely able to stand up. She was leaning against the fence that divides my street from the golf course. Now, any of you who have seen my house know that I don't live in the greatest neighborhood. I've always known this about my neighborhood, but to see it up close was very difficult.
She was gaunt, wearing a wife beater and jeans. She had stringy brown hair and teeth that told me she probably smokes crack or does crystal meth. She looked like a ghost, or maybe a demon, but certainly not a person. She was completely vacant...there was not much human left inside her. She had been stolen away.
My first reaction was to be sickened. No, not in a "you disgust me" sort of way, but in a "the image of this extreme brokenness and hopelessness makes me physically nauseous" sort of way. I wondered, What in this woman's life could have been so awful that she now prefers living life in a semi-comatose haze. I imagine she may have been abused- physically, emotionally, sexually- I imagine she probably gets abused now...she can barely stand up, how could she possibly protect herself from other people? People who want to take advantage of others because of their own brokenness?
As we drove up the street, happily on our way to our cute little Bible study, I was racked with guilt. How could we drive to our cute little Bible study to eat our yummy pumpkin bread and sing nice songs, but leave these people in need? Jesus wouldn't do that, right? He would stop to serve them and help them. What's the point of going to Bible study if we're not living out the good news? We made it as far as the corner before I convinced Daniel that we should turn around to see if she was okay.
I could tell he was uncertain. "What will we do? What will we say?" "Just tell them she looks pretty messed up and do they need help?" We pull up to them and ask if they need help. They stumble over to our car and say they'd like a ride. --Now, here is the conundrum.-- {And this is why Daniel was initially concerned/hesitant about helping them.} Do we transport people extremely high on drugs to, what is probably, another drug house? Do we potentially endanger our infant son by allowing two drug addicts to sit next to him in the backseat of our car? I am thinking all of these things as the woman is idling next to our car, mouth gaping open. I am staring at her teeth, ruined by the addictive use of drugs. I am staring at the tattoo of my Jesus' cross on this man's arm and wonder what Jesus means to him.
Daniel makes the call that we shouldn't drive them anywhere, but perhaps they need an ambulance? She looks really messed up. The guy doesn't want to hear this. He's afraid we'll call the cops. He's afraid he'll get in trouble. He changes directions and says his cousin lives just over here, they'll go chill out there for a bit. Was he lying, just to get rid of us? However, I wouldn't be surprised if his cousin does live in the house he indicated...it is clearly a drug dealer's house, as there are constantly cars sidled up to the curb with their flashers on, apparently making a quick deal.
We drive off, having accomplished nothing. I feel powerless. How can we help these people? How can I protect that woman? If I call the police, what will happen? They will get locked up, come down, get out of jail and get high again. What happens to these people? Do they live life high on drugs and then just die, in a state of despair- or is it just a state of numbness? Does anyone care about them? Have their families tried to reach them? Have they given up?
I call my dad, who used to be a police officer. "Dad, what are our options?" Dad says to call the police because they are an endangerment to themselves and potentially others. I look up the police non-911 number on my Blackberry. The website indicates 3 different ways of notifying the police that we've witnessed the use of or dealing of narcotics. I've never lived in a place where the township provides 3 different means of notifying the police about drug use. It freaks me out that we are raising our son in such a place. It freaks me out because Jesus would live here, but what can I do? I am powerless.
I call the police and give them the tip. They say they'll drive over to our street to check it out. My dad tells me these people will either spend their lives on drugs and eventually die, or stay in jail, or get clean. I think the odds of them getting clean seem pretty slim.
When I think of the people I know who use drugs I wonder if they will end up like this. Why do some drug users end up in oblivion while others can manage it and stop using when they want to? My heart hurts for these people. I am angry at whoever has caused such deep hurt in their lives that they'd prefer to live this way than to feel. I hate Satan for having the power to destroy lives. I am scared for friends and family who use, for I don't want them to end up this way.
Daniel says he prays for our neighborhood and neighbors every day. He is the prayer warrior. I am the do-er, and I wonder, is praying enough? Will they know the love of Jesus and the hope we have in Him if we are just praying? Don't we need to express this love? But how do we do that without endangering ourselves and our son? But aren't we called to sacrifice our lives in order to love God and neighbor? But aren't I just called to minister to Greek students at an elite college? Doesn't that get me off the hook? Maybe this isn't my responsibility after all. But I know that it is. But what can I do?
I wake up today, still picturing this woman in my mind, still feeling sick about it.
Pray for this neighborhood. For that woman. For my family. For the brokenness you see in University City- in the homeless community, in the Greek community. Come, Lord Jesus, Come.
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