The Cross We Bear...

His name was Richard.

We first met a couple weeks ago.
He'd just been kicked out of one of the local shelters and made his way to Trinity.

I had been gone most of the morning, but he waited for me at the church. For hours. When I arrived, we talked about some options of other places he could go. I learned that he had burned bridges at one of the shelters big time. He could not return.

I quickly learned why...

Richard was surly. He was tired, and grouchy. He was loud and impatient. He also had some clear health problems and it was apparent he hadn't been able to take good care of himself or keep himself clean and healthy. In a word, Richard was a pain.

But, being a pain doesn't negate one's need of help. So, I gave him some numbers to call (other churches and agencies) and I made some calls on his behalf. I even found a lead for a place to stay for the night for him and gave him what help I could. He'd wanted more. I had no more to give. After he'd lingered at the church for several hours, I told him it was time for him to go. Which he did, reluctantly. Complaining about his mobility, about the bus system in town, and about how no one will help him in this city...

I wasn't sure if I'd see or hear back from him again. 


But I did.

Richard called back several days later from a motel that he was staying at. Some pastor from a local church had helped him secure a couple of nights. The day he left us, he'd ended up in the hospital for a day. Then one night on the floor at one of the shelters and he went searching for money for a motel so that he could get some good sleep. I couldn't blame him. Clearly with his physical and health conditions as they were-- it had to be hard to be on the streets and not be able to rest per doctor's orders.

So he called looking for some help, again. This time for food (he's diabetic and the only food at the continental breakfast at the hotel was sugary, unhealthy stuff) and for help getting his bags which were being stored at the shelter he was no longer allowed to return to. So, I made a couple calls and found a Trinity member who was willing to bring him his bags from the shelter to the motel. These bags had some personal care items and his insulin-- he was VERY grateful to have them back. He told me then that his county case worker had secured a place for him, and that he was hoping to get in the apartment come the end of the week. We were both happy to hear this news.

I didn't expect to hear from Richard again.


 But, I did...

Wednesday I got another call from Richard. He was in the hospital. Again. This time, he had collapsed at the [different] motel he was staying at. Nearly had a stroke the paramedics said. He was banged up pretty badly from the fall. He said everything had fallen apart. The apartment fell through (didn't pass the background check). His motel room was only paid up through Friday morning and then he'd have to be out of there, with no where to go. His mother who manages his social security and disability was refusing to send him any money. And to make matters worse, she never even checked in on him upon hearing that he was in the hospital.

Richard was even more angry. And loud. And bitter. He lashed out at me and at everyone. Some of the time (perhaps most of the times) I knew he didn't mean it. But, nevertheless, it was hard to take his calls, to listen to his rants, and to keep working on his behalf.

I told him that I didn't think I could get in to visit him, but that I would call him at the hospital the next day. But when I called yesterday, he had been discharged and was back at the motel. Back to angry Richard. He was panicked-- what was he going to do? He had to be out of the motel in one day. And had no resources, no options left.

Every idea I had, he shot down. He belittled my suggestions and questioned whether I really was helping him or not. Finally, I let him have it. I told him I was offended by his tone and by his ungrateful attitude. That I was doing everything I could but he wasn't making it any easier for me. Eventually I said I needed to go, but that I would make one last phone call for him. He wanted me to come up with the $250 he needed to stay an extra week in the motel. That wasn't going to happen. But, I knew there HAD to be some place that could help.

So I called a friend at one of the shelters, the shelter that had banned him. She listened as I explained how frustrated both Richard and I were. I told her that I was extremely concerned about his health, that if he didn't find time and space to calm down and rest, that he would have a stroke and would likely end up dead. There had to be a place for even surly, grouchy, angry, impatient, disabled homeless men like Richard. And my friend agreed, though she didn't know if they could let him back in. She agreed to talk with her staff and to get back to me in the morning.

Today, I arrived at church to about a dozen missed messages from Richard. My friend from the shelter had contacted him, but it didn't go well. He was not going to be able to return. He was again frantic. He had just a couple hours til he had to be out. Miles and miles away from any services and without any money. And, to be frank, with no hope and not a friend in the world.

When I called back, I could tell he was angry with me. I had failed him. He accused me and the church of not being Christian, because Christians help people in need. I told him we did help. Lots of churches helped. But that he needed to take responsibility too. I told him I had done all I could, that I had even wrangled a possible second chance with the shelter, but he wasted the opportunity. What was I to do?

What was he to do?

He was at a loss. And he felt let down. So he told me he'd never call again.

It's hard to do what I do some days. How do I reach out with compassion and kindness and generosity, while at the same time advocating for personal responsibility and respect for myself and for others? I know that I gave more time to Richard than anyone else I've seen in the last four months. Yet nothing was good enough.

Because the system is not going to work for a guy like Richard. All avenues were closed, if not permanently than at least for the time being. His anger and frustration are understandable, but they make encounters difficult. Hard to go out on a limb for someone who you don't really like or trust or believe is grateful. And yet, as those feelings welled up in me, I pushed myself to stay with him. I wouldn't be one of the many who abandoned him.

On this Good Friday, I am struck by the irony of this day. Good... what's good about today? Richard would tell you, not a darn thing! The cross, the messy, painful, dark cross... Where all our frustrations, abandonment, anger, selfishness, and fear dwell... today, this week, with Richard, I felt the disappointment of the cross. Of human shame, guilt, and inadequacy.

And today, I will sit with that. I will cling to the cross. Today, hope seems at a loss.

Richard knows that this is true.

But, I dare to believe in hope. I dare to trust that there can be resurrection-- new life and new chances. I pray it for Richard, as I pray it for us all. May the hope of the resurrection find us always in the darkness of the crosses we bear.