"Where is God?"

Arturo lives in a tent on Skid Row. He avoids the missions because there are too many "locos" there. He keeps a big metal pipe by his side at night for protection. Just the other day he had to threaten someone who wanted to take his belongings. He was exhausted during our conversation - fear of early morning street sweeps, theft, or criminals keep the homeless from truly resting. Also like the other thousands of homeless men in Los Angeles, Arturo hungers for intimacy, paying for the companionship of women to ease the pangs of loneliness.

I was on coffee duty, passing out steaming styrofoam cups, doctoring them up with powdered non-dairy creamer and sugar, when I noticed someone was staring at me from across the sidewalk. He wasn’t staring in a creepy way, but in a "I want to talk to you" way so I walked over and started a conversation. He told me he had some questions: “I wonder...can you tell me... where is God?" I can see his face - it’s tired, discouraged, but earnest.

Putting on my Christian hat, I told him that God was right there with him, next to him, inside him, all around him. “God is here on Skid Row.” He shook his head, "No, no, no... Look around you. God isn't here." I did look around. If I lived on Skid Row, if I woke up every morning to heroin, urine-stained sidewalks, mental disability, litter, police harassment, would I be able to see God when I looked around me? That’s a difficult question. I've never even come close to poverty in my lifetime, much less homelessness, much less Skid Row. I don’t think it would be too much of a stretch to say that my reaction might be pretty similar to Arturo’s: frustration, anger, and resentment towards God - I’d probably throw in some entitlement too.

Although I like to believe (and have even seen) that God is very present on Skid Row, I knew that my experience on 6th and Gladys was very different from Arturo’s. Maybe I’ve been reading too much Henri Nouwen, but I felt God wanted me to enter in, to displace myself in this man’s pain and suffering rather than give him a sermon on Christian faith before driving back to my cozy apartment and PhD program in Westwood.

He recounted quite candidly that other Christians had told him God was his friend, but from his experience, he couldn’t see God as anything but his enemy. After attending AA and NA meetings and cleaning up his life for a few years, he recognizes that there is still a struggle in his mind: “I feel like there’s a wall there.” He's still on Skid Row, without a job, without money, and lonely. He showed me a pin on his bag he got at an AA meeting with the serenity prayer: "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." Arturo struggles with that first phrase - why does he have to accept the things that he can't change first? Why does he have to accept his life on Skid Row and trust that God is good? Unfortunately, I didn’t have a very clear answer for him.

I asked him if he ever told God how he felt, if he ever asked God why he was on Skid Row. He sounded very tired "I don't want to talk to God." Even when I offered to pray for him throughout the week, he asked that I do not use his name while talking to God.

I told Arturo that God loved him. He didn’t want him to be alone, depressed, and distant. That he longed to hear from Arturo, his beloved son. I said I'd be back next week to check up on how he's doing, and that I'd be praying for him.

But Arturo's tired, dejected face is still fixed on my mind.

Life without Facebook

So this past Sunday I decided I needed to do something about my unhealthy relationship with facebook. That's right. I'll admit it. I'm addicted. Therefore, I have resolved to only check my account on a weekly basis until Easter (I got a little head start on Lent.)

My break from facebook has given me time to reflect - well, "forced me to reflect" may be more honest. When I can't distract myself by checking my friends' statuses, learning how many mutual friends I have with a classmate, or investigating the love interest of a confidante - I am left with just myself. Not some imaginary social network I can just tap into when I am alone and too lazy to actually engage with real people. And when I am left alone - without wall posts to answer, friend requests to confirm, events to respond to - I can see more clearly the empty places in my life. I can see that I'm probably more lonely than I thought.

Don't get me wrong: I'm not a hermit here at UCLA. I have been blessed by close friends who know me well and love me regardless; likewise I am often meeting new and interesting people on this big university campus; I even find myself striking up random conversations in coffee shops, the library, the grocery store. So it's not necessarily that I have a shortage of human beings in my life.

I guess it's a different kind of lonely. A different kind of longing. I desire deeper intimacy and communion with people. I long for the challenge, the support, the constancy of sharing life with others on a day-to-day basis. I am eager for the companionship and partnership that comes when we commit our lives to the same goal. I want more.

My mom thinks I'm "ready for a life partner."

Who knows? Well, God does I guess. So that helps. G.K. Chesterton said that following Jesus is like being homesick at home. We are ever-yearning for something greater, something deeper, something more intimate. Will I experience only a taste of that in this life?

The funny thing is this all came about because I'm no longer on facebook. And by funny I mean embarrassing. Who knew that a “social networking site” could have such power over me? That's really pretty silly.

Love Deeply

For some of us, Valentine's Day is a special day to spend with people we care about, for others of us it is a day of pain and loneliness. I'm grateful, once again, for the words of Henri Nouwen. He acknowledges that human love is often accompanied by human suffering. But this doesn't have to be the end of our story. This passage is dedicated to anyone out there who's experienced heartache (all of us I hope):

Henri Nouwen "Love Deeply"

"Do not hesitate to love and to love deeply.

You might be afraid of the pain that deep love can cause. When those you love deeply reject you, leave you, or die, your heart will be broken. But that should not hold you back from loving deeply. The pain that comes from deep love makes your love ever more fruitful. It is like a plow that breaks the ground to allow the seed to take root and grow into a strong plant. Every time you experience the pain of rejection, absence, or death, you are faced with a choice. You can become bitter and decide not to love again, or you can stand straight in your pain and let the soil on which you stand become richer and more able to give life to new seeds.

The more you have loved and have allowed yourself to suffer because of your love, the more you will be able to let your heart grow wider and deeper. When your love is truly giving and receiving, those whom you love will not leave your heart even when they depart from you. They will become part of your self and thus gradually build a community within you.

Those you have deeply loved become part of you. The longer you live, there will always be more people to be loved by you and to become part of your inner community. The wider your inner community becomes, the more easily you will recognize your own brothers and sisters in the strangers around you. Those who are alive within you will recognize those who are alive around you. The wider the community of your heart, the wider the community around you. Thus the pain of rejection, absence, and death can become fruitful. Yes, as you love deeply the ground of your heart will be broken more and more, but you will rejoice in the abundance of the fruit it will bear."