My 5th night on the streets had a different look and feel about it. You hear a lot of profane language on the street, but this was the most I have heard so far, and it all came from one man Mr ‘S’.
As usual, we started at the Zion Apostolic Church at 6:30 with worship and Kevin led us in a devotion on Psalm 23. Kevin’s wife Jackie had brought several roses and suggested that we could bless the ladies on the street by giving them a rose. She advised us not to just hand them out, but to include a message of God’s love to each recipient. There were several teenage girls and they were eager to take roses to the street.
About 20 people arrived at Portage Place and while we were getting ready to form our teams, Shannon the colorful, Gospel singing, preaching lady from last week showed-up. She had a sad story about being robbed of 20 dollars and her bus pass. I asked her if she was hungry, and she said she was. One of the vendors fills styrofoam take-outs with rice, vegetables, and some meat, and sells them for $2.50 each. Kevin bought a couple and gave Shannon one. Lorraine also bought 2 and gave me one of them to give away to someone. Shannon had a prayer request for a sore shoulder, and some heart pain, and after prayer said the shoulder felt better. She then preached to us about repentance, and sang a hymn to us, before leaving to eat her meal.
We strolled around the food court, but it was fairly empty, the few people that were there were occupied by other prayer teams, so we decided to go to Central Park. Just outside of Portage Place was a group of 4 men who had the look of drug dealers. Very serious facial expressions, lots of negative tattoos and heavy jewelry of skulls and such. Kevin waded right into their circle and asked if any of them needed prayer. They just all stared at him – the silence made me uncomfortable. Kevin pressed-in. He asked if any of them had any pain, deafness or blindness. One guy said he had a bullet in his body. Kevin asked if it was causing him any pain, but he said no, and turned away from us. Another guy said his back hurt, and another one said he was almost deaf in one ear. Kevin then did his sleight of hand trick (they almost smiled when the serviette disappeared, but I guess it wasn’t cool to show any emotion or expression). Kevin then said that just as the serviette disappeared so would their pain and deafness. The guy tested his back by twisting his body and said it was better. The guy with the deaf ear said his hearing was no better. Kevin asked permission to put his hands on his ears and prayed for him in Jesus’ name. He said his hearing was a little better. After several prayers and testing his hearing, he could only say it was slightly improved.
We moved on. Lorraine and I still had our take-out meals, and we prayed the Lord would send us someone that was hungry. At the corner of Ellice and Edmonton, several First Nations men were sitting on an extended bench. One of our team members, Chris also had a take-out and the two of us approached the bench. As I did, one of the men extended his hand, as though he knew I was bringing him the food. I asked if he was hungry, and he assured me he was. He asked me what my name was. I said, Al, as I sat next to him. He thanked me for the food and began to eat. I asked him his name, he hesitated, mumbled something with a lot of expletives about why he should have to give me his name, and then answered ‘S’. I asked him where he was from, and he said North of Bloodvein, in the bush, and there was no point of saying whereas no one has ever heard of it. Based on his continuous bad language he seemed agitated and it occurred to me that he thought I had said my name was ‘L’ so I said again my name is Al – you know short for Allan. He then smiled and said his name was Stan, and he shook my hand. That seemed to break some of the ice I was feeling.
After he had eaten I asked Stan if he missed the bush. He said he was more comfortable with his surroundings in the bush than he was here in Winnipeg. I asked him if I could pray for him – did he have any pain. He said he really missed his wife, and that she was with another man in the city, and he hoped she was all right. I asked again if he would like me to pray for the pain in his heart. He ignored my question and went on a long tirade about ‘effing’ white people, and he called me all kinds of colorful profane names (I thought he was just testing my resolve to see how genuine I was so I didn’t react) He followed that up with a long discussion about religion, and how he tried the Catholic Church and the Anglican Church, and how he was whipped in residential school. He said they tried to turn us into Moses followers, but he was no #€£¥@&£ Moses follower. When he was finished I told him that following Jesus was the only way and that none of those negative experiences was Jesus’ way.
He then said something that I found very interesting. He said you and I are a lot alike. “In what way”, I asked. He said, “I, like you have a lot of people coming to me for advice” (he would have no way of knowing this about me). He said I don’t know what the #€£¥@&£ to tell them – what do I know about anything. “I should have been a Shaman, but I am too afraid of the power,” I asked him what he meant. He said, many years ago a man was hitting on his wife, and she said what was I going to do about it, and I said I was going to light his pants on fire, and instantly the man’s pants caught on fire – that s— scares me. I said maybe you should be a Shaman for Jesus. He ignored my suggestion and began to talk about being 70 years old. I pointed out that I too was seventy, and that was another way we were alike.
He then went on another tirade about how the white man thinks they (First Nations people) are all #€£¥@&£ stupid. After he finished I drew a picture of the cross in the air with my finger and said, “That’s what I love about the cross.” “What’s that?”, he asked. I said, drawing a horizontal line in the air with my finger, “The ground is level at the foot of the cross.” “At the cross you and I are equal – all of us are equal – because of the cross you and I are brothers.” At that he grabbed my hand and gripped it, and said thank you.
As we sat there in silence he asked if I would buy him a beer. I said sure, I haven’t bought a beer for 35 years, how much are they now (I was thinking 2 or 3 dollars)? He said with a big laugh, they are not 35 cents anymore. We then reminisced about being able to buy a draft beer for 15 cents fifty years ago. We had a big laugh together. He then told me that a beer was now about 5.50 to 6 dollars a bottle, depending on where he went. I gave him 10 dollars, and he tried to find change, but I told him to keep it all. I told him I would be back next Thursday, and he should think about how I can pray for him. He said I’ll remember you, and I assured him I would remember him.
That conversation took close to an hour, and this report is only some of the highlights. Not totally sure what it was all about. I recognized I am not a very experienced evangelist, and I probably missed several Gospel opportunities in the conversation. I also had mixed feelings about buying someone beer, but if he had asked for money I would have given him some without knowing what it was for. I was surprised about how calm (no fear) and how non-judgemental I was. I think the Lord is teaching me compassion (I had specifically prayed for that gift to be imparted to me several weeks ago). I also think He was teaching me that He is my strength and my guide as I step into these uncomfortable and potentially threatening situations.
I missed finding out about how the other teams were doing. On my way back to my car I met Pastor Tom and he told me many people in the park had been prayed for – hope to hear from some of the other team members.
Feel free to ask me questions.
Al Bayne