Wrecked in NYC

It was the first of three mission trips Momentum (the gap-year program through my church that I’m currently enrolled in) would take part in, but it was my first mission trip ever. Naturally, I was a little bit afraid. Then I received our NYSUM (New York School of Urban Ministry) outreach itinerary and went from afraid to terrified. I had been afraid to minister to the homeless – I was terrified of evangelizing to random strangers in Central Park.

But even more than I was afraid of aforementioned random strangers, I was terrified of missing out on what God had called me to do in this city because of my fears. So for a solid two weeks before we left for New York City, I would invite God to feel free to challenge and change me on this trip. I told Him that I wanted to leave the city different than I entered it. I wanted to see the brokenness of the city; I wanted to feel the depravity of the homeless people we’d be ministering to. I said that I wanted Him to mess me up, to “wreck” me, so to speak.

A word to the wise: Be careful what you wish for.

Fast forward to our very first outreach.

We had been taught the homeless ministry basics earlier that day: Always pray in groups of two – never leave a team member alone. If the homeless are on the ground, you kneel down with them and ask permission before invading their portion of sidewalk, which to them is their “home.” Really listen to them – they hardly get to talk to anyone. Never give them money. Late that night, we were stationed outside of a homeless men’s shelter with food, clothes, Bibles and bottled water.

I contentedly stood towards the back, passing out water and searching for the right size coats, while the rest of my team talked and prayed with the homeless men. Then, our NYSUM outreach leader, Luke waved me over to join his side as he was beginning to pray for a homeless man named Nelson. And just like that, I was thrown into homeless ministry. There’s no easing your way into it – either you’re totally in or you’re totally out.

After we had finished praying for Nelson, in the bustle of all the homeless, I caught sight of a tall, African American homeless gentleman leaning against a sign and smoking a cigarette. I approached him and began to ask if he needed various items. He had dinner already, he had a coat and already owned a Bible. It began to look as though I could offer him nothing, but I asked if he was thirsty and he did say I could grab him a bottled water. Before I walked away to grab him a bottled water, I told him my name was Chelsea.

He responded, “I’m Tim.”

TIM?! Here’s the significance to that name: Every single time I would pray about this New York City trip, I would always hear the Lord give me the name Tim. Over and over. Tim. Tim. Tim. Tim. Tim. Every time I brought up New York City in prayer, it was met with the name Tim. And now here was Tim, in the very flesh.

On the inside, I was freaking out but on the outside I remained calm. “I’ll go get you that water, Tim.”

When I came back with the water, Hannah (best friend/fellow Momentum student) joined me and Tim. It didn’t take much small talk for Tim to begin opening up and sharing his story with us.

Tim told me and Hannah how he was once a millionaire who mismanaged his money and made bad investments. He never married or had kids and his mother died recently – he has two siblings, but one is in Florida and the other lives in New Jersey. Tim got a job in New York City, but was laid off mere weeks after moving there. He hit rock-bottom when he became homeless.

Hannah and I began to question if Tim knew the Lord and he told us that he grew up in the church and that he still prays, but I could sense a hesitancy within him. Tim then admitted that he’s seen such evil that he has begun to question goodness.

In one instance, Tim was climbing up the stairs to the shelter he stays at and saw ten men in a circle, just watching as one homeless man beat another one to a bloody pulp. Tim couldn’t believe that everyone was just standing there watching, so he broke up the fight and dragged the bloody man out of the circle.

Another injustice Tim was particularly disturbed by occurred when local hospital employees dropped off an elderly lady at the doors of Tim’s shelter and left. The elderly lady was then turned away by the workers of the shelter because this was a men’s shelter. The workers told her to walk to the women’s shelter twenty blocks away…Late at night…In a rough neighborhood. So Tim took it upon himself to walk her all the way to her shelter and all the way back. (This man is a man after my own heart, let me tell you what.)

Tim told us that the shelter was just so bad and this world was just so evil that he didn’t know how God could allow it. Hannah explained to Tim that God gave us free will, always hoping that with it we could choose Him. She went on to say that Tim is being used as a light in this shelter and by consistently choosing what’s right and good that he’s showing God’s goodness – Tim himself is the living proof!

Then Tim dropped the bombshell. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Here in the shelter?” I asked sympathetically.

Tim replied, “Here in the shelter, here in this city, here on Earth.”

I paused, trying to process if he really was saying what I worried he was saying. Hannah, who clearly catches on quicker than I do, insisted, “No Tim, you can’t do that. Don’t think like that.”

Tim insisted that he had thought it over and had already decided to kill himself. The sooner the better. This man, who somehow stayed good amidst all this bad…This man, whose name God had been speaking to my heart…This man, who I spoke with for hours and had grown to love…This man was going to take his own life. I couldn’t hold in my tears.

“Oh, don’t cry honey,” Tim comforted me, even though he was the one who was clearly suffering.

“Stay right here,” I told him. “I’ll be right back. Do not go anywhere!”

I hurried over to my pastor/mentor Greg frantically, asking how much a bus ticket would cost because I just had to get Tim out of here. As it turns out, all that I had still wasn’t enough. I cried tears of desperation and began to tell Greg about how God had been speaking the name Tim to me and that I had to somehow intercede and save this man’s life tonight. I told him that I just knew I was supposed to give Tim everything I had in my wallet. Although it was against NYSUM rules, Greg encouraged me to obey God and tell Tim about how I’d heard his name.

“Tim, there’s something I have to tell you,” I said as I rejoined Han’s side. “I’ve been praying about this trip for a little while now and for the people we would be meeting. And for the past week, every time I would pray for this trip, God kept telling me the name Tim.”

Tears began to flow down his face as he asked incredulously, “This was before tonight?”

“Yes, about a week ago. God spoke your name to me and I just need to tell you that God has been seeing you in your hardship. He sees you right where you’re at and He wants me to be a blessing to you. So I’m going to give you everything I have in my wallet and I want you to put this in your savings. I want you to use it to help you get out of this shelter.”

I extended the fifty dollars towards him and Tim, crying, shook his head, “No, no, no, I don’t want you to do that.”

“She wants to,” Hannah insisted.

“No,” Tim cried.

I put the money in his coat pocket and zipped it. “God told me to, Tim, and I’m not one to disobey God.”

Tim wiped at his tears and insisted, “But there are so many more deserving people.”

“Not to God – He sees just you when He looks at you, Tim and He’s had you on His heart. He loves you and wants to bless you.” Tim broke down at this realization and asked us for prayer.

Hannah and I then prayed for Tim – for strength, for his family, for his financial and home situation. Afterwards, Tim looked me in the eye and said, “What you have done for me..is so kind..I don’t understand it. No one has ever done something like that for me. Your faith has made me stronger. The love you have shown me has made me stronger.”

I pulled him in for a hug and whispered with a lump in my throat, “You can’t hurt yourself, Tim.”

“No,” Tim whispered back, “No, I won’t. I have hope now.”

After we hugged goodbye, to say I was “wrecked” would be a major understatement. I sobbed relentlessly. God used me in such an amazing way – a man’s life was saved that night and God used me to do it. Terrified and unqualified me. But then I remembered a quote I’d seen on Pinterest several times: “God doesn’t call the qualified. He qualifies the called.” I may be weak and cowardly, but regardless, I am called and that alone qualifies me to do great and mighty (and seemingly impossible) works through Christ Jesus.

I prayed for God to wreck me. I prayed for Him to show me the depravity of the homeless and the brokenness of the city. And clearly, He is a faithful God who answers prayers. He sent me the most amazing person I’ve ever met, trapped in the most heartbreaking situation I’ve ever seen. And in a single instant, I saw God change everything – Tim’s heart, his circumstances and even his beliefs. I still haven’t completely recovered emotionally, but I am so glad that I asked to be wrecked. That willingness to be used (and wrecked by extension) for God’s purposes opened me up to the most amazing experience of my life.

With all that I am, I want to pursue being used by God like that. Not just on trips. Not just occasionally. But every day, I want God to know that I’m available and willing to be wrecked for His kingdom’s cause. I was merely wrecked in New York City on a trip, but my prayer as I write this is that my fellow Christians will join me in inviting God to wreck them daily in their own hometowns.