I may have found a new spot to work at night. I'm locked out of my house right now, because I left my keys in my other coat, after walking the dog. I was going to drive to Starbucks (an impressive Starbucks). That's where I normally end up, if I've got time and I've got to write. But today, as I said, I'm locked out of my house. So I walked. In Lakewood, where we live now, there's essentially a coffee house of some sort on every single corner. I ended up in what sounds like and is a hotbed of 21st century Hippy culture- the Root. It's terribly crowded in here. Because I'm reading Les Miserables right now, I'm reminded that this is the sort of place where the French Revolution started.
No one here is starting the French Revolution. I can only hope, in some way, I'll get to be a part of what I envision as something of a Cleveland revolution.
But we're here, in a nice, alternative, sort of town on the west side of Cleveland. Lakewood's the closest thing to a college town lacking a college as I've ever been. It feels more like a college town than most towns I've ever visited. But it's still Llakewood. It's still, at its core, a nice-ish sort of place.
I can't speak for anyone else in here anyway. At best, most people are just hanging out or doing homework. I like the vibe in this place, and the coffee's pretty good. If it's always this crowded, I don't think I'll ever really be able to work here. But I can hang out here- it's like George House North, but far more granola.
This afternoon, I was on the East side. I missed my exit going to a Bible study to which no one showed up. I needed gas, so I stopped at a Marathon on E. 55th. That's in the heart of Hough- very much one of Clevelands formerly organized and now de facto ghettos. In this part of town, there's a gas station on every corner. As such, I wasn't surprised when someone asked me, the moment I got out of my car, if I could help him get something to eat. I wanted to. I always want to. I'm a remarkable sucker for anyone asking for anything on the street. But I had to get going, so I told him I'd talk to him after I pumped my gas. He waited for me, didn't get too close. I didn't have much cash on me, but he let me get him a corned beef sandwich (in Cleveland, more places sell those than don't). As we waited, I talked to him a bit. His name is Bruce. He's in the homeless donut hole, so to speak. He is waiting to get his birth certificate so he can get his i.d. and move into a shelter. As he put it, he's living on the streets right now, just him and God.
I don't know if I could have done more. I don't know if he would have let me anyway. I hope and pray he found somewhere to sleep tonight, even while I noticed, myself stuck outside for a bit this evening, that it's getting colder by the minute in Cleveland tonight. I probably won't see him again. But I'll pray for him, as often as I remember, as often as I can.
I left Bruce, as he walked across the street, toward Burger King, for whatever reason, I don't know. I left knowing that I had no idea what could be done for him. I don't know anything about the process to get the birth certificate and the id. I can't do much to anything to help with that, and I don't have any strings I could pull. I'm glad he got a meal, but what else and how, will his needs be met? He's not even allowed into the shelter right now.
I missed my exit. No one came to Bible study. And yet, today, in a completely accidental, some would say coincidental sort of way, I think I was glad for what I experienced, for where God placed me, more than I've been at all since leaving Wooster. I'm probably given to hyperbole, I know I often overstate. But no matter what I've done in my IV staff career, or what I've yet to do, I know my calling is to Cleveland, to the homeless, to the disenfranchised, to those in the midst of a struggle tied to legal red tape. And that's why I have to go to law school. It doesn't take a law degree to buy someone a corned beef sandwich, but I've been thinking, all day, about how I would at least have had the opportunity to do something more for Bruce today, and could do more for people like him in the future, if I had more knowledge, more resources. I was more excited to talk to Bruce today, to buy him a corned beef sandwich, than I've ever been for coffee with even the most stellar student. InterVarsity does great work, but I'm so sure, right now, that the rest of my life has to be directly tied and devoted to whatever "the least of these" means in Cleveland. InterVarsity fights for justice and raises all sorts of awareness. But all of that only matters when it is actually spurring students, upon graduation, into fields that do the same. Art, law, business, medicine, all require the hope and love of Christ if we're actually going to see the world changed. I'm glad for InterVarsity staff. I'm hopeful more and more will come on. But I know it's not for me. It's not how I'm wired, not anymore at least.
We're all made differently. At Urbana '06, it was all about "the calling you have received." It was there that I decided I was going into law for the wrong reasons, and that's the starting point of the journey that took me onto staff. But, in its own way, that's the starting point that got me back to a law career. I couldn't admit that I was doing the right thing, had I never abandoned it then. Now, I know, deeper than almost all else, that I'm doing the wrong thing to do anything else. Bruce needs people to fight for him. Legally, I'm not even sure he exists right now. Even so, even farther than that, he's one of the realest people I've ever met in Cleveland.
I don't want to sound like there's a dichotomy between staff/law/anything else as right/wrong/anything. It's not that. But we are who we are because that's the person God made us to be. It's a great thing to be on InterVarsity staff and say yes to God, saying yes to the field of vocational ministry. It's a dangerous and foolish thing though, to say yes to vocational ministry and say no to God at the same time. I said yes to God last fall, fully and finally. Today, in the person of Bruce, God answered a resounding "Welcome to reality" right back.
Pray for Bruce. Pray for Cleveland.
-Zack
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