A Broken Surprise

I ran into something very strange last week as I was making a normal trip to Downtown Fullerton.  Having a few hours of work to accomplish, I decided to take my work home so I would not have to spend twelve hours in the same seat.  Sometimes I need a change of scenery.  I grabbed my bags and headed down to one of my favorite cafe's.  I had always wanted to do a bit of an Instagram photoshoot of the Downtown Fullerton area as well.  My friends had just announced that they were moving into an old apartment building in downtown, so I thought this would be a perfect opportunity to take a few shots and go explore the building.

I parked close to the cafe and began my walk.  Luckily for me the downtown area is only a few blocks long.  As I was walking past the boba shop there was a young guy who asked me for a dollar.  I thought nothing of it, told him I didn't have any change and kept walking.  I found my friends' new apartment building and took a few shots.  As I was walking around and shooting pictures, something kept eating away at me.  Something in my gut did not seem right. 

I've walked passed a number of people asking for money.  Some of them I try to help out, and some I don't.  There's really no formula.  I try my best to not give money, so those that I help out I'll buy them a meal.  This gives me the opportunity to start conversation with them and hear their story. 

"Who was that kid", I kept asking myself "And why is he out here begging for money".  After about 20 minutes I finished up shooting and thought that it was about time to head down to grab a drink and finish my work.  Just a block away from my destination I saw this kid again.  Our eyes met very briefly and then we both looked away.  I knew that he recognized me from half an hour ago as the guy who walked right past him.  I originally thought he was just looking for money for a bus ride home, but as I was able to examine him closer I could tell that he obviously had not been home for a long time.  It was at that point that I decided that I need to hear his story.

"Why are you asking for money?", I asked.  "Why are you living on the streets?"

My examination had amazed me because here stood before me a young Asian American male.  Though I don't have an exhaustive amount of experience in a compassion ministry, I've been in several different contexts and have met a number of homeless people of all situations.  This was the first time in my 32 years of life that I had come across a young, homeless Asian American.  One of my thoughts was, this guy must be doing some sort of social experiment.  But God kept nudging my heart to do something. 

He shared with me that his mom had kicked him out and he was on the streets because he did not apply himself and didn't work hard enough, so that's why he was homeless.  These words empathetically penetrated my heart.  I told him that I would not give him money, but I would buy him a meal if he'd like.  He took me up on my offer.

My goal, as is whenever I come across situations like these was to understand his story, show him love and compassion, and let him know that this love came from God.

He told me how he was studying graphic arts at a trade school in West LA, but his mom had kicked him out because she was a single mom looking for a new relationship and did not want to deal with him.  His family was around, but also did not want to help him.  He had been living on the streets for 3 or 4 months now and has not been able to receive any help.  He pulled out and showed me his GED certificate, birth certificate and Social Security card.  I asked him if he believed in God and if so, what did that mean to him.  His response was that God has a plan for everything.  I went on and shared how I've struggled in life in finding belonging, and have only been able to find it in God and in Jesus.  I shared that what I was doing for him was God reminding him that He loved him. 

As we walked back to my car so I could give him a ride to where he was sleeping, every word that came out of his mouth was full of cynicism.  At the end of the conversation before he got out of my car I told him that, yes, there are people in this world who only care about themselves.  I was sorry that it consumed and enslaved him.  I asked him if he thought I was "evil".  He said, "Of course not.". In response I encouraged him to not believe that everyone is evil.  What he needs to do is find people out there who care about more thank themselves and let those people be his role models.

As he left my car I couldn't help but feel broken and helpless.  A lot of our joy and success, I think, has to do with our perspective on the world.  Those of us that can only see the negatives of this world will never be able to find comfort and happiness.  Yet, those of us who understand that there are a lot of bad things in this world, but have a sense of hope and know that there are people out there that are different and that care about more than themselves, those are the people who will be able to find contentment.  I hope that my act of love and words to this young man told him a different story than what he currently knows to be true.