OPINION: With Love From SFO
Kaley Partington, assistant editor
As I watched a drug deal unfold in front of me, never in a million years would I have guessed that I would spend my spring break surrounded by illegal substances, mental illness and homelessness. But it was one of the best experiences I have ever had.
Going to San Francisco with the San Francisco Outreach team was a unique way to see the city. Beneath a hub of tourist attractions, I observed some of the most hurt and lost people. As I walked from our hostel in the heart of the Tenderloin—the worst part of San Francisco—I witnessed drugged people yelling, prostitutes waiting to sell their bodies and helpless, lonely men and women trying to gather enough change to buy some food or support their habits.
Going into the trip I was uneasy about approaching homeless people because I didn’t know what to expect and I doubted my ability to say anything that would actually mean something to them.
On the first day I met Lee, he was special to me because he was the only homeless person I saw more than once. I first met him Sunday morning at church and then again on Thursday night. Immersed in a trip of new experiences and new faces, seeing Lee again brought comfort and a familiarity that I needed. A big smile stretched across my face as I saw this shorter man with a long beard, piercing blue eyes and a slight southern accent approach me. He was caring, and he eagerly wanted to meet each and every member of our team.
"I walked around a city full of hate, sadness and helplessness, and wondered, "God, where are you?"
One morning as we served coffee, I met a man named “OG.” I remember noticing that he had trendy Lacoste shoes and a particularly nice, clean outfit. A few minutes later, I watched as he had a short discussion with one of the homeless men, reached into his pocket and made an exchange. I just had a casual conversation with a drug dealer. This man was taking some of the only money these men and women have, just so they can continue their addiction and the downward cycle that comes with it. It broke my heart.
We primarily worked with The Homeless Church of San Francisco and their Pastor Evan, who reach out to the homeless community. They hold church services every Sunday in the park and on a street corner, serving morning coffee and weekly meals and doing night strikes—a late night ministry where hot soup and tea is distributed to the cold, sleepy men and women on the streets.
People living on the streets were often waiting in anticipation for a hot meal from the pastor and his helpers. We served food plate by plate to long lines of people or out of the trunk of the car to whoever stopped by.
That night, I stood in the cold, brisk night bundled up talking with my fellow teammates as we noticed a man sitting by himself. As we sat down I asked him how he was doing and with tears in his eyes, he kept repeating, “I’ve had a really bad day.” I felt helpless and inadequate as all I could say was “I’m so sorry.” We asked if we could pray for him, he agreed. We laid hands on him and began to lift up his day and his life up to the Lord. It was a powerful moment, and it saddened me to know we were sitting and praying with this man who owned very little, but felt like he was losing what he did have.
God sent me to San Francisco for a reason. I walked around a city full of hate, sadness, and helplessness and wondered: God where are you? But I have confidence that He has a plan, complete with hope for the hopeless and comfort for the lonely. I heard the song in my head: “Greater things have yet to come, and greater things are still to be done in this city.”
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