My first mission trip ever was to New York back in 2011-- one story from that trip really stands out.
Mark the addict
We met Mark in a park next to NYU. It was already pretty late in the day, and we were winding down to get ready to grab a bite and talk about what happened that day.
Mark is 26, and has been on and off the streets for almost 9 years. His first trip to rehab was when he was still in his teens. We hit it off pretty quick when I gave him some socks and didn’t try to impress him with how perfect I was. He asked me if it would offend me if he drank (as he poured half a bottle of vodka into a large plastic cup and topped it off with some fruit punch). I let him know that I drank (not that much!) and he said I was the first Christian that actually admitted to drinking.
This is where it gets weird and exciting. He excused himself and wished that he could continue our conversation, but he had to go earn some money. “I hate it (begging) but what can I do?” I figured out about how much money he makes in a half-an-hour, and offered to pay him to chat-- he was happy to take me up on it-- but he had to meet his girlfriend a few blocks away in 40 minutes. I offered to walk with him when he had to leave, and he was cool with it.
Mark is a human hurricane, leaving chaos and destruction in his wake. He beats up his girlfriend (who is the admitted breadwinner), and can’t believe that he is capable of such anger (which I was able to witness later). He has devastated his family, impoverishing them and breaking their hearts; he is remorseful, and completely incapable of doing anything about his situation. He hates his life, fears for the future, and is completely without hope.
What’s weird is that I really liked him. I was open and honest with him, and shared the Good News with him (yes, even the parts about Hell, judgement, and the wrath of Almighty God). He believes in God (in a works kind of way) and is quite sure that he is destined for Hell, a place I told him he would earn very soon if he keeps living the way he is.
Mark walks really fast and was amazingly lucid for as drunk as he was. As we were walking really fast, he was becoming more and more agitated-- and when he arrived where he was to meet his girlfriend, he became volcanic when he didn’t find her (and her money) there. You see, Mark is a heroin addict, and was in the early pains of withdrawal.
In the midst of his cursing and threatening, it dawned on me that I wasn’t afraid (this realization really hit me later). I let him borrow my cell phone (later I got an interesting call-back from Tito, the drug dealer) and that helped to calm him down.
I was able to spend about 2 hours with Mark, much longer than I had originally thought. In the midst of the storm surrounding Mark, I remained calm, and he responded by calming down as well. He couldn’t believe that I was treating him so kindly, without a hint of judgement or condemnation (his thoughts). It dawned on me later that I was overwhelmed with Jesus’ love for Mark, and He ministered through me in ways that I am not capable of. He communicated things to Mark that I couldn’t duplicate in a million years. Mark asked me towards the end of our conversation if I did this for a living, to which I responded “Nah, I’m just a peon.” Then he said something that really struck me-- he said that I could really help a lot of people in this city-- people like Mark. I told him that I was leaving in a couple of days, but that God is able to deliver (Mark) from this pit of his own making and turn his life completely around, and that he (Mark) could really help a lot of people, because there is nothing more powerful than a transformed life in the hands of an Almighty Savior!
We parted with two big bear-hugs. I left him my phone number, and I hope (and pray) that I will meet Mark again. I know that Mark is in God’s hands. I wish that I had more time, and more faith. I know I’ll go back.
Fast forward: this is the 6th or 7th time (lost count) to go on this trip...
Mark the addict
We met Mark in a park next to NYU. It was already pretty late in the day, and we were winding down to get ready to grab a bite and talk about what happened that day.
Mark is 26, and has been on and off the streets for almost 9 years. His first trip to rehab was when he was still in his teens. We hit it off pretty quick when I gave him some socks and didn’t try to impress him with how perfect I was. He asked me if it would offend me if he drank (as he poured half a bottle of vodka into a large plastic cup and topped it off with some fruit punch). I let him know that I drank (not that much!) and he said I was the first Christian that actually admitted to drinking.
This is where it gets weird and exciting. He excused himself and wished that he could continue our conversation, but he had to go earn some money. “I hate it (begging) but what can I do?” I figured out about how much money he makes in a half-an-hour, and offered to pay him to chat-- he was happy to take me up on it-- but he had to meet his girlfriend a few blocks away in 40 minutes. I offered to walk with him when he had to leave, and he was cool with it.
Mark is a human hurricane, leaving chaos and destruction in his wake. He beats up his girlfriend (who is the admitted breadwinner), and can’t believe that he is capable of such anger (which I was able to witness later). He has devastated his family, impoverishing them and breaking their hearts; he is remorseful, and completely incapable of doing anything about his situation. He hates his life, fears for the future, and is completely without hope.
What’s weird is that I really liked him. I was open and honest with him, and shared the Good News with him (yes, even the parts about Hell, judgement, and the wrath of Almighty God). He believes in God (in a works kind of way) and is quite sure that he is destined for Hell, a place I told him he would earn very soon if he keeps living the way he is.
Mark walks really fast and was amazingly lucid for as drunk as he was. As we were walking really fast, he was becoming more and more agitated-- and when he arrived where he was to meet his girlfriend, he became volcanic when he didn’t find her (and her money) there. You see, Mark is a heroin addict, and was in the early pains of withdrawal.
In the midst of his cursing and threatening, it dawned on me that I wasn’t afraid (this realization really hit me later). I let him borrow my cell phone (later I got an interesting call-back from Tito, the drug dealer) and that helped to calm him down.
I was able to spend about 2 hours with Mark, much longer than I had originally thought. In the midst of the storm surrounding Mark, I remained calm, and he responded by calming down as well. He couldn’t believe that I was treating him so kindly, without a hint of judgement or condemnation (his thoughts). It dawned on me later that I was overwhelmed with Jesus’ love for Mark, and He ministered through me in ways that I am not capable of. He communicated things to Mark that I couldn’t duplicate in a million years. Mark asked me towards the end of our conversation if I did this for a living, to which I responded “Nah, I’m just a peon.” Then he said something that really struck me-- he said that I could really help a lot of people in this city-- people like Mark. I told him that I was leaving in a couple of days, but that God is able to deliver (Mark) from this pit of his own making and turn his life completely around, and that he (Mark) could really help a lot of people, because there is nothing more powerful than a transformed life in the hands of an Almighty Savior!
We parted with two big bear-hugs. I left him my phone number, and I hope (and pray) that I will meet Mark again. I know that Mark is in God’s hands. I wish that I had more time, and more faith. I know I’ll go back.
Fast forward: this is the 6th or 7th time (lost count) to go on this trip...