My Neighbor Doesn't Always Have An Address

This is my experience at the City Mission on Sunday. It was like I pulled into the parking lot, locked my car and stepped into a movie. The Holy Spirit didn’t whisper…He shouted… “Pay attention and listen for my leading!” The Lord provided an amazing team of ServErie folks that obviously came prepared to do whatever. We prayed and then it started. I began to meet my neighbors.

Matthew looked like a very drunk Ernest Hemingway. I liked him instantly. Life wasn’t bad for Matthew until Vietnam crashed into his story. He said it was “four years in the basement of Hell”. Never found himself again when he returned home but did hold a tight grip on a friend he had made in Southeast Asia….alcohol. He was so beat up in every way but was still able to maintain a pretty apparent amount of courtesy towards and interest in his fellow man. He loved Nancy Clark’s voice and rushed forward to thank her for soothing his pain. Just like that…he was gone.

I accidentally bumped shoulders with another guy as I tried to maneuver the crowd. It was a hard bump and I apologized to him. We locked eyes and it’s as if time raced backwards and I was in the crowded hallway of Cathedral Prep School again. It was Mark, a guy I hadn’t seen since we were both 17. He instantly averted his eyes and I paused to see how I should handle this awkward reunion. I waited for him to go through the meal line and take a seat before I attempted an re-introduction. We spent a half and hour catching up. This guy was one of those people who was Most Likely to Succeed In Everything! Life went really poorly for him at every turn and now he lives in the streets. Absolutely heartbreaking. We parted ways again and I pray he accepts my invitation to get together in the near future.

I had to go out to the car for something and nearly missed my opportunity to meet an incredible soul. A frail kid with a backpack that loomed over his shoulders named Jacob was standing by the curb with a tattered map. He asked for directions to hitch a ride to I-86. He was on his way to Maine. I showed him what I thought was his best shot as we both got wet standing in the steady rain. He was so thankful for the meal and the kindness that was extended to him. I said good-bye and headed to the car when I faintly heard him say… “I hope God blesses me again today.” Went back into the mission to help clean up and was inwardly and instantly reminded of the Spirits prompting to “Pay attention and listen.” “I hope God blesses me again today”. I missed it. I grabbed a couple of the ServErie team members and explained I needed to find a young guy and give him a ride. They instantly reminded me that earlier in the morning I gave the team strict instructions not to give out personal information, money or rides to anyone. I’m such a crappy leader. Anyway, I drove up and down State St. looking for Jacob but he had vanished. Just as I headed back toward the mission I spotted him trying to stay dry near Hamot Hospital. He eagerly accepted a ride and a discussion I will never forget began to unfold. He was hoping to make Jamestown NY by nightfall to camp there until morning and pick up a little work to continue his journey to Maine. Maine is where his sister lives and hopefully an opportunity to build a more stable life. Jacob is 25. He was arrested for drugs at 19 and spent 2 really nasty years in prison. For the past 4 years, he has been hitchhiking back and forth across America. He estimates he has logged 32,000 miles in the past 48 months. Everything he owns is in that backpack. He told me stories so incredible that I consistently charged him with writing a book. Why the dramatic wandering? Jacob said he was searching for something to quiet the screaming in his head. He wants peace and the only place he can find it is on the open highway during the day and lying on his tarp at night in the woods staring at the stars. At one point just outside of Jamestown, he told me that Mike’s talk really intrigued him. We talked about Someone who made the open road and star filled skies. Someone who could give him the peace he was after. We prayed together and shook hands knowing we will both live out our lives and never see each other again. On the drive back to Erie I thanked God for my neighbors. Men who are broken, tired and searching for something that life hasn’t provided thus far. This kind of stuff is out there waiting each and every day. I could have invested the same 7 hours on Sunday in a nap, a ballgame or just kicking around the house (all of which is good and often necessary) but what an adventure I would have missed.