Life in Nashville, part 3

One thing I noticed about the staff at the mission, is that while sometimes they appeared just as rude as the transients staying there, there were those times when talking to them would just brighten up my day. Granted, at one time many of them were homeless themselves and at some decided to make the choice to get clean, from drugs I mean, and work towards changing their life around. I guess those characteristics that they brought from their past life helped them deal with the transients better than most people. It’s a kind of tough love that one shouldn’t be so quick to judge but realize and remember what Paul said to the Corinthian church, “I have become all things to all people, so that I may by all means save some.” (I Cor. 9:2). As I made my way into the front offices, I was excited to tell the staff that I had decided to join the rehabilitation program. One of the chaplains sitting down was named Tom. He was a very cheerful elderly man. When I told him that I was from California he became very excited and told me that he grew up there and that he was in fact moving back there in a month. He told me that there were no more applications to sign up for the program so I would have to come back later that evening before chapel and talk to one of the other chaplains. He gave me a Bible and I went to go sit back outside and find some way to hopefully pass the time. I tried to read a little scripture but it was too difficult with everything going on around me. Everywhere, there was smoke from cigarettes. I got used to this fairly quickly and made sure that no one would see me coughing.

A young guy named Jake came up to me and we started talking. He was in the program and had arrived at the mission about four days before me. He seemed very happy and it was very nice talking to him. He told me about how he was glad to be there and how he had started to read the Bible and pray. I could easily picture him at some young adults group at any church, or even leading one. Meeting people like this made me want to join the program even more so I could be around these guys more and hopefully build some friendships. Right now, I had no clue how strict it would be or the rules I would have to live by. Jake asked where I was from and I told him Los Angeles. He was surprised I was so far away from home and asked how I ended up in Nashville. I guess I could have pretended to be more of a local but there’s no way I was able to pull off a Tennessean accent; at least not yet. I had to be careful not to expose too much of myself, especially about the real reason why I was there. I decided that I would tell no one about how I was on a road trip seeking to do ministry with homeless people across America. Unless asked, I would not tell people that I’ve never struggled with drug abuse and most importantly, NO ONE would know that I was only there to learn and observe with the intention of only staying a couple of weeks. My story to Jake was simple. I had been traveling for a while living in different places. The last place I was staying at was in Texas and since I was with a friend, I came along to Tennessee. However, that friend was able to find a place to stay in East TN so I decided to stay in Nashville since it was a bigger city with more opportunities. I also wanted to change my life around and was nearly broke financially. Now I ask you to find a lie in all that.

Afterwards, I continued to sit around just watching and observing people; the way they walked about, talked to others, talked to themselves, who associated with whom, who was the lonely outcast. One older man who caught my attention was an individual I would later learn was named Leroy. He never talked to anyone except sometimes himself. He always had a straight face and never smiled or looked angry. Every once in a awhile in random places he would start jerking his whole body and swing his arm up and down very quickly as if he was stabbing some invisible enemy. The sad thing I found out is that Leroy was once a university professor who later spent time in prison for killing his wife and the man he found her cheating on him with. Everyone here had a story… Along with that I noticed that everyone at the mission was either African American or white; nothing in between. I had heard about the racism in the south even before I had set out on the trip but here it didn’t seem to have much of an impact on the people. I could faintly trace any dividing racial line among the transients. I guess when you’re down at the bottom of society with few people to acknowledge and respect you, you can’t afford to hate others; except maybe yourself.

Red was an interesting kid; probably about 24. He told me his real name was Mike but since he was the only redhead at the mission, everyone just called him Red. When I first talked to him he appeared to have rather well to do clothing on that was pretty clean and spiked hair. He always hung around an older middle-aged man named Clark. Not once in the mission did I not see Red at Clark’s side. Red told me that he use to be in the program for a couple months but quit because it was too hard for him. He began telling me all the rules of living under the Anchor House, which was the name of my potential new home. Members could not leave the Mission grounds until about three months when they would receive their first 3 hour pass to the city. Also, if you were under the program, you could not have any interaction with the other transients living there other than a simple “Hello.” I knew I was going to break that rule. Also, he told me a little bit about how structured your schedule was every day and any form of disobedience to that would be punished. He told me how he was tired of all the Bible stuff you had to do. I had already heard though about all the Bible studies, chapels, and spiritual tasks you had to do but it didn’t really bother me. In fact I looked forward to things like that finally coming my way.

Dinner seemed to come at the perfect time. I felt like I was starving even though I had had a huge breakfast and lunch. As I was sitting in the waiting room lobby I was kept entertained by a man who kept complaining that people were stealing his seat, which was wasn’t true. He was a very interesting character who approached me earlier outside. He was a young black man probably in his late twenties, a little chubby with dyed bright red hair, and walked around in cowboy boots with shorts on. When I was talking with him outside I asked him why he wasn’t in the program. He said he tried it once but didn’t like it. Apparently they tried to “change” him and force him to be a different person. That’s when he admitted to me that he was a homosexual. As my row was called up, I was greeted by a wonderful surprise for dinner. Tonight’s meal was Popeye’s Fried Chicken. Back home I always ate here despite the memorable experience of once getting food poisoned there but that’s a whole different story. I ate every piece of chicken on my plate besides being tempted by the allure of trading it for a biscuit, which seemed to be the popular item of trade for the marching barters strolling around. As I sat down with a group of middle aged men, I listened in on their conversation about homeless abuse in the city. I learned that it was against the law to sit along almost any building let alone have a sign up hoping to panhandle. I knew that must have been true because when I was taking my stroll around downtown I found virtually no homeless men or women begging for money or resting anywhere. Most were just chilling in the Public library; drinking fountains everywhere, bathrooms on every floor and even free access to the internet. You can’t beat that. All it needed was Popeye’s chicken and a place to crash for the night and the mission would be closed for good.

A Whole New World

Maybe most of you could relate to this. I’m sure there have been certain nights when you’ve received little sleep because you were just too darn excited about something or anxious and were thus deprived of rest. Well, that’s how I was the first night at the mission. I woke up super early ready to experience my first full day there. It would definitely be an interesting one.

As I got up while most of the others were still sound asleep, I quietly gathered my blanket and sheet and made my way over to laundry to drop it off. Since my bag and clothes were still in the 72 hour lock I decided to wear the same clothes from the previous day but this time take a shower. The sweat from the clothes was still there but at least I’d be clean. Luckily I was able to snag a towel from the laundry room and found a bar of soap so in my eyes I was fully prepared; unfortunately not for what I was about to see.

As I made my way inside the bathroom I could hear some yelling which I wasn’t able to decipher. I turned a corner to try and get closer and for a split second I was just staring at something I’ve never seen before. A man was laying on the floor obviously having a very bad seizure. The yelling I heard was from a man standing next to him shouting “Seizure!” At the same time he was yelling he was going through the man’s pocket and searching his wallet for money. The only thing I could think of at the time was to go get help. I ran to the front office and told the staff what was happening. Other than that, I felt pretty much useless to help the man which gave me more feelings of uneasiness. Later that day I would find out that the man passed away when the ambulance came.

After I finished my shower I made my way around the mission since breakfast wouldn’t be served for another two hours. I noticed some men were sleeping in the main waiting room; I figured that these were the men who were not so lucky to get a bed from the previous night. I was glad that at least they didn’t have to sleep on the streets. One thing that I noticed during my stay was that the mission hardly ever kicked people out nor were they strict on who they let in. It didn’t matter your story; whether you were homeless, starving, just a little short on luck, or just traveling like I was, you were welcome at the mission; no questions asked. That made it easier for me.

When breakfast time came we again gathered in the waiting room. This time I sat in the first row. As we were called I noticed a new group of young people serving us our meal. There would be a new group of volunteers for each meal of the day. I said a quick thank you and made my way into the cafeteria. I wasn’t too crazy about the meal though; orange juice, some sweet bread, but mostly grits. But I was hungry so I made myself enjoy it. An entertaining thing you’ll notice about mealtime is that people walk around the room playing a little barter game. During meals, men would march around the tables shouting, “A breast for a thigh!” or “Biscuit for a waffle!”, and if anyone was interested, they’d make the trade. After breakfast I sat down in the courtyard for a bit to try and get a better feel for the place, and especially the people. A couple of curious men came up to me and asked who I was. Most of them had been living there for years. A number of them told me that I should join the “Program.” I wasn’t sure what that was but I told them that I’d check into it. One thing that caught my attention was a group of younger guys gathered and hanging together in a certain part of the courtyard. They were separate from the rest and were all about my age or a little older. Since I was feeling a bit uncomfortable in the spot I was at I made my way over there to sit down. I began talking with a man named Lawrence who was about 30ish years old. He began telling me more about the program. What I learned was that at the Mission they had a “Life Recovery Program.” He was telling me how it had changed him as a person and how he got right with the Lord again. Another guy joined in and borrowed a cigarette from Lawrence. He seemed curious to see me there so I introduced myself. They had both been in the program a couple of months and kept trying to convince me to join. They said that it was better than to live at the mission as a transient. I’d be housed in a smaller dorm with the same guys every night, I could keep my stuff there without worrying about it be stolen, they had TV and video games, and I’d be assigned a chaplain who would be my personal counselor at the mission. After our conversation, I told them I was happy to meet them and I decided to check out a little more of downtown Nashville for a bit before lunch. I also wanted some time to think about whether it would be a good idea to join the program knowing that I was not intending to finish it.

On my way to the library, which was where I planned to go, I took a different route to see if I could save some time. After about four blocks of walking, I found a Christian bookstore which made me really excited. Back home, I always liked browsing through those stores. Unfortunately, back home in CA they seem to be going out of business more and more. It was refreshing to see this one and see it so close to the mission. As I walked in I began checking out their bibles and chose one that I would read for awhile. Mine was still kept from me in the locker. I wanted to find a verse that would cheer me up and help me not feel so lonely. I began scanning the psalms and then jumped to the second book of Corinthians. I read the sixth chapter about being satisfied in all circumstances of life. I kept thinking about all the hardships and persecution the Apostle Paul went through in his ministry and how he could still proclaim “as grieving yet always rejoicing; as poor yet enriching many; as having nothing yet possessing everything.” That definitely gave me inspiration for the day.

As I began to watch the customers walking in and out of the store I could tell they were not from the area. This part of the city was very run-down with many abandoned buildings and few businesses. This store was like a world within a whole new world. Across the street was a prostitute leaning against a fence, a man passed out with all his earthly belongings surrounding him, and a woman whose face had aged prematurely sitting in the sun. At that point, yet another uneasiness crept up on me. I kept thinking about how happy the customers were at picking up the latest Beth Moore book or buying a new study Bible for their book collection; all a bit out of tune with the sad world sitting right outside. This made me think of the famous line in the New Testament where believers are said to be “In the world but not of it.” This scene taking place before me looked more like they were of the world but not willing to accept that they were actually in it, at least not with certain people. I shortly left the store and quickly made my way back into that other world across the street; not because it seemed so much more attractive to me, but hey, it was serving lunch soon!

Finding My Place

When I first arrived at the Mission I was pretty nervous and scared about how it would all unfold. On entering, I was first searched, along with all of my stuff. At that point I became very nervous because I couldn’t remember if I brought my knife in my bags or left it behind. If any type of weapon or pornographic material is found on you, you’re asked to leave. Thank God I forgot to bring it with me. As I made my way inside the inner courtyard I was shocked to see so many people crowded inside. I had never seen so many homeless people before. On the streets you usually see them alone or hanging out in very small groups. I was scared that they would all of a sudden turn and stare at me, the obvious outsider. Luckily everyone was busy doing their own thing. Some were sitting in the shade playing chess, some sleeping under the trees, others moving from group to group seeing what the new word was while the rest were standing in line waiting for a bed ticket. I made my way to the main offices and was greeted by a very kind looking older man. He told me that he was one of the chaplains at the mission and quickly started me on the process of living there. I had to fill out some forms and have my picture taken. My things were then taken from me to be stored in a 72 hour lock of which I could only access once a day. Now it was just me and the clothes on my back in this strange new place.

Since it would be a couple of hours before dinner would be served, I made my way out of the mission to do a little exploring of downtown Nashville. It was truly a fascinating city; much bigger than I expected. This allowed me to have a good walk around town. But being from California, I didn’t expect the humidity to be so high. So I went from building to building trying to stay cool and even stood next to outside vents that blew out their AC from inside. As I was getting thirsty too I realized that I couldn’t find a drinking fountain anywhere. Granted, there were public fountains everywhere and I did become a little tempted but realized that I wasn’t that desperate….yet.

I finally found the Nashville Public Library on my little adventure and upon entering discovered a row of drinking fountains that literally looked like they were shining in the lobby. I thanked God that he lead me here and began to drink liberally. I must admit, I don’t spend much time in libraries but this one was one of the nicest I’ve ever seen. On my way back to the mission I sat down on some steps next to a huge Methodist church to enjoy the shade. A couple minutes later, what looked like maybe a cop or local guard, rode up to the curb on his bicycle and told me I couldn’t hang out there. I quickly got up and continued my walk back. Later that night as I was remembering my day, I couldn’t help but wonder how someone living on the streets does it day by day. Just finding those things necessary to survive was a challenge to me and to think that this was just a typical day in the lives of many men and women brought an uneasiness to me.

Back at the mission everyone was jam packed into a sort of waiting room for diner to be served. I was only in there for an hour but it felt like maybe two or three. I was fortunate to find a seat in the back; away from all those curious eyes that sooner or later I wouldn’t be able to escape. Then at 5:00 sharp a member of the staff walked in and shouted “Take off your hats!” Everyone listened to him and bowed down to listen to his dinner prayer. Right after that we were lead, one row at a time, to stand in line outside the cafeteria. Since I was in the back we were the last to be called and since my stomach was growling so much, I was afraid there wouldn’t be any more food. Boy was I wrong! Our plates consisted of soup, salad, bread, desert, soft drink, various meats, and mashed potatoes. It looked like the best thing I’ve ever eaten, and it tasted that way too. That gave me hope that I would be able to look forward to three satisfying square meals each day of my time here. When I was being served I tried to do it as quickly as possible. The young people volunteering in the kitchen were high school and college kids from churches in the area. It felt weird being on the other side of the counter this time since back home in Long Beach, I volunteered a number of times at the local mission. However, as time passed I would become more comfortable with the looks and glances that some of those volunteers gave me; obviously curious to know my story and how I ended up living at a mission. Once I got my plate I quickly scanned the huge cafeteria looking for a good table to sit at. I found one with only one man and made my way there. I purposefully tried not to make eye contact with anyone along the way for fear of what their reaction towards me might look like. On sitting down I looked around and noticed that no one was staring at me. They were all too busy eating; which I got down to do.

Chapel started at 7:00 every evening of the week and it was mandatory for everyone who was going to spend the night there. I was looking forward to the service since it would be my first church experience in awhile. Once again I arrived early and found a good seat towards the back. Soon, the whole chapel became jam packed and one of the chaplains stood up front to begin the opening worship. He opened with a very traditional Christian hymn that reminded me of the church I grew up in back home. After this the guest preacher was introduced. He was an ex-drug addict and use to live at the mission as a transient so many people in the audience knew him. I was amazed to hear someone with so much passion and energy talk about what God had done in his life. He was quite the comical character as well to the enjoyment of the audience. However, as I looked around, I noticed that a quarter of the men were sleeping and here and there you’d hear someone making fun of the speaker with jokes and profanity. This wasn’t the church service I grew up in.

After service they dismissed us by the dorms we were sleeping in. We would make our way through the laundry rooms and each man would be handed a blanket with a sheet wrapped inside of it. On entering the dorm your blanket and sheet were searched for dangerous materials. When I walked inside the A dorm, I couldn’t help noticed how big it was; a huge room filled with bunk beds. It reminded me of a mixture of jail and an army barracks; none of which I’ve been to but I had a pretty good idea it wasn’t much different. I found my bunk and set up my bed hoping that I’d be able to fall asleep on a rather hard mattress surrounded by heavy snorers. I just wanted to make sure that during my first night I’d get enough rest for a big next day. I set my cell phone alarm to wake me up at 3:00 am so that I would be able to take an early morning shower. At that point, I was still uncomfortable taking a shower with the other transients. However as time passed, many things about myself would change. So I said my prayers and went to bed.

The Plan, or Lack Thereof

As I put down, Under the Overpass, I couldn’t help to imagine a similar adventure in my life. For those of you who have never read this book, I highly recommend that you do. It followed the travels of two college guys who decided to set out on a six-month journey across the United States. They lived as homeless people in each of the big cities and experienced life as the lowest of the low. It took them to the mean streets of D.C., through the blistering heat of Phoenix, under the rainy overpasses of Portland, in the middle of gang infested San Francisco outskirts. The most amazing thing to realize is not only are these stories are true, they’re told by people just like us. The point is, with God, all things are possible. We can be one of those stories, one of the inspirations, as long as we set out with the purpose of finding God in all of it. When we desire to seek God, He doesn’t hold back from taking you in an adventure.

One of the most amazing things I’ve experienced in my walk with the Lord is finding other believers who share the same dreams and goals as I do. I don’t believe this was some amazing accident that Andi Shaw and I both have a heart for the homeless. However, for those of you who do hold that belief, I’d like to share an amusing quote, “Miracles don’t happen by some coincidence or chance. Instead, a coincidence happens by a creator who decides to remain anonymous.” God had put a desire in both of us to travel across the country and extend a hand of love to the homeless and other individuals that crossed our path. As you have probably read in Andi's blog, we had some amazing experiences in Phoenix, Austin, as well as in Tennessee. For the sake of time, I won’t retell the experiences that Andi has already written about; instead, I’d share with you some of my experiences in Nashville, TN.

“Hmm, I have no idea where I’m going to stay.”
These thoughts continued to run through my mind as we were driving from Texas to Tennessee. We already had an amazing time in Austin connecting with the local college ministries and spending time with some homeless people. Even in Phoenix, God allowed us to partner with the Dream Center and give some of our donations to their ministry. In each city we went, God provided a place for us to stay. In Phoenix, one of my friends from college offered his girlfriend’s house to stay for a couple of days, with her permission of course. In Austin, we stayed at a ministry leader’s (from AU) house, which opened many doors of potential ministry for us. The funny thing is, in each place we lodged, we were able to choose the place a day or two in advance – talk about last minute planning! However, we were not an inconvenience to anyone who helped us, and God literally provided shelter in the blink of an eye.

Tennessee, on the other hand, was a different story. This point of the trip came the end of Andi and I doing ministry together. From the beginning, we decided that she would stay with friends in east Tennessee, and as for myself, I don’t believe we ever made an exact decision on what I would do. Thinking back now, I don’t know why I left that up in the air. I guess I figured that God would reveal his plan at that point and the dots would magically connect. However, I soon realized that I knew NO ONE in the region much less the Nashville area where I was to spend the rest of the trip. To make matters worse, I possessed no form of credit or debit card but only cash that I had saved the previous months. That ruled out the possibility of me staying at a motel or any other places that required something other than cash. You may think I was stupid for doing this yet I did have a reason, whether or not it sounded legitimate, that’s up to the reader. On the outset of this trip I knew I was not going on some kind of vacation. When I think of vacation I imagine taking some of your comforts to a place of comfort to have a comfortable time doing virtually nothing uncomfortable. This can include such things as lots of money, plus more for emergencies, a full bag of luggage that won’t run out, a plan that consisted of nice places to stay and security in each of those spots, plus a purpose of getting away from the worries and troubles of this world.
No! We were doing the exact opposite. Not only were we setting out without a clear plan, we brought little for ourselves with the purpose of encountering other people’s problems and pain. We wanted to meet that head on and fully rely on God to provide and protect us…that’s why I didn’t bring a credit card. Mom and Dad wouldn’t be able to wire me any money in case I got into trouble. No, I tried my hardest to follow the example of the Seventy Jesus sent out who were not to ”carry a money-bag, traveling bag, or sandals,” but were to rely on the good graces of other people for provision. Of course we had a car to store stuff, lots of extra Trail Mix, cash, and not mention we both wore shoes on the trip (if you don’t know Andi Shaw, it was a shift from the norm for her). But we both knew that it was God’s will for her to wear shoes this summer so she couldn’t argue with that. All in all, we failed to model those brave men of the New Testament…good thing that wasn’t the point.

Back to the million dollar question, where on earth was I to stay?
“Hey, that motel kinda looks like one of those places where prostitutes go. Good thing it’s not” I remarked with cluelessness.“No, that is one of those places! Viktor, there’s no way I’m leaving you in a place like this.” As we were making our way around the city, we realized that even if I were to stay in a motel/hotel, the Country Music Awards were going on so every place was completely booked for the next few days. The only places open for business were the memorable places that Andi refused to drop me off at. Oh brother!...

As I remembered some of the stories from Under the Overpass, I recalled an experience in Colorado where one of the guys stayed at the Denver Rescue Mission for a month and became part of their drug rehabilitation program.
“Take me to the mission!” I exclaimed as the light bulb finally turned on in my head thanks to God pushing the switch.
As divine occurrence would have it, the Nashville Rescue Mission would be my home for the next few weeks.

Greetings

For anyone stumbling upon this blog i'd like to introduce myself to you. My name is Viktor Salazar. Hello! I hope that I might be able to introduce some fresh insight into your idea of Christianity. On my part, I will try my hardest not to bore you but just to be honest with my thoughts and share what's on my mind. These first bits of posts are a collection of writings on an experience I had this summer taking a road trip through the south of the United States. Hope you enjoy!