OUTREACH STORY #5: No Easy Answers!

Most of my outreach stories are feel-good tales, but this one isn't. Most of my outreach stories speak of immense struggle but end with someone getting their keys, signing a lease and moving into their crib. This story is vastly different. Everyone isn't destined for happy endings. Everyone I meet moves on their very own personal journeys. Some trails that people trek along are harsh and agonising, and sadly, they don't make it to their prized destination.

This is one of those stories...

I will be focusing on a heavy and complicated subject. It may be triggering for some people. My primary focus will be someone's immense struggle with their mental health, but also their struggle with substance abuse, suicidal ideations, homelessness, abuse, incarcerations, hospitalisations, and being "othered". The person I reference here is real, he is a wonderfully kind caring man in his late 40's, but I will not use his real name.

I will call him Jerry.

Stage 1: Our initial meeting: Jerry was brought to me for assistance. He desperately needed and wanted housing. He wasn't looking too good, but nothing too alarming for someone rough sleeping. We initially made some calls, but there were no rooms available. I also organised an intake to get him into a permanent supportive housing programme. His intake was immediately done, but finding the right place takes time. This seemed like a great long-term solution, but time wasn't on his side, he needed an immediate answer. We didn't have one. I prayed for him and for an answer, I felt helpless.

During these initial meetings, I discovered a lot about Jerry. He is a born-again Christian who loves to read his Bible. He has been diagnosed with schizophrenia but doesn’t believe the diagnosis. He was born in Aotearoa, and when he was a youngster his whānau moved to Australia. Recently, he'd been deported back to the country of his birth under section 501 of Australia's Migration Act. This Act is highly controversial as it allows the Aussie government to deport re-offenders and those who fail to pass their character test. Jerry now lives in a city where he has no history or connections. And to add insult to injury, he is a "501", a highly marginalising label which only isolates him more!

Stage 2: The waiting period: Jerry continued sleeping rough until housing surfaced. He found an area where he became known and a few locals respected him, gave him food and looked out for him. These caring citizens started calling me, worried for him and his safety. Being highly sensitive and extremely spiritual, Jerry struggled to cope with what he saw and heard and felt around him. He would speak of seeing evil spirits and how they were present and he needed to protect us.

And a cycle began. A vicious cycle. Jerry saw what he saw but he couldn't get rid of them. Jerry felt what he felt and he couldn't escape what he was feeling. He was constantly tormented by the insights he was cursed with. He would pray for deliverance, read his bible, especially the Book of Revelation, and religiously watch certain preachers on YouTube. As the voices and images and feelings continued and deliverance wouldn't come, he'd puff his cigarettes, drink hard liquor and smoke crack, and then he'd flood himself with guilt and condemnation for doing what he thought disappointed God and made him worthy of the eternal fires of hell. This was his vicious cycle.

One day I received a phone call from a couple of the caring locals. Jerry was inside a community centre yelling erratic phrases, ripping out pages of his Bible and scattering them everywhere, and excessively drinking vodka in an alcohol-free zone. The locals didn't want this wonderfully kind man to be arrested, they wanted him to be delivered, to be liberated, to be safely housed. I drove down to see Jerry, and what I saw wasn't an aggressive man, but a man desperately trying to protect those looking after him. I saw a man of sorrow and did my best to comfort him, but that seemed impossible because of all the guilt and condemnation he had just piled on himself. I prayed for him and an answer, I felt helpless, where were the answers?

Stage 3: Hospitalised: I received a phone call. It was Jerry. He had checked himself into a hospital. I visited him a few times and we had some wonderful hope-filled conversations. He was medicated. The drugs quietened the voices but didn't take them away. He was still spiritual. He was still sensitive. He was still trying to protect me from evil by showing me who and what to keep clear of. He was still reading his Bible. He was still watching and recommending certain YouTube videos. He was still praying and looking to Jesus. He was more at peace. His guilt and condemnation was shrinking.

Stage 4: Housed at last: A good thing about being hospitalised is, that a person can't be released unless they have a place to go. The bad thing is, that safe appropriate housing is difficult to find. The hospital's Social Worker was struggling to find accommodation for Jerry, so she called me several times. Eventually, a place was found, a tiny home on the property of a boarding home. Shared bathrooms and a kitchen, but his own lockable room. He would have his privacy while being surrounded by many. In some ways, this place looked great, in other ways, I had major concerns.

I picked up Jerry and drove him to his new home. He was excited. We got him household items to make his tiny house a home. The hospital gave him a maintenance plan. He knew where to get his medication. He knew which Church he was going to attend. He had good intentions. He was grateful. He was hopeful.

I left feeling cautiously optimistic. Could this place work?

Jerry took this time to return to those who'd watched out for him when he was sleeping rough. He visited them and wrote cards thanking them for their love and charity.

Stage 5: Evicted: It wasn't long. One day three of us went to check up on him. We'd done it a few times already, but on this particular day, we could hear yelling and wailing as we approached his room. He was tossing and scrubbing and packing his stuff. He was irate. He was sweating. He was grieving. He was cursing. At first, he didn't click who we were, so he continued frantically cleaning his room and yelling about evil spirits and his need to leave. And then, out of the blue, he realised who we were. He looked at me and said my name. A calm came over him and he explained how the landlord had evicted him and he was making sure the room was spotless (both physically and spiritually) before he left.

Jerry warned us of all the evil that was surrounding us. He begged us to stay away from certain areas. He was trying to protect us. The landlord told us of his drinking and drug use and yelling all night long and how he'd invade people's personal space with threats (meaning he was trying to protect them from the evil he was seeing and experiencing). The landlord chose to look out for his place's common good and peace, so Jerry had to leave.

My co-worker saw an expensive pair of shoes in the rubbish bin. She picked them up, thinking how they could be given to someone in need. Jerry saw her with them, gripped his head and screamed, "No, No, don't touch them, they're contaminated". She put them back in the bin, went inside and sanitised her hands. This simple loving act calmed Jerry down, as he didn't want evil and harm to fall on her.

We stayed and helped him. We helped him get back his bond. We helped him pack up his stuff. We loaded what he wanted into our vehicle to store in a safe place. We were peacemakers in a situation that could have escalated quickly. We offered him a ride, but he declined and rode off on his bike.

Stage 6: The cycle continued. Jerry went back to rough sleeping. He went back around the people who were once so kind and loving to him. They continued being kind and compassionate. But he didn't stay there long. He was restless. He was scared. He moved about.

I heard about him for a while or I'd bump into him. He'd update me. He'd lose his phone. He was housed. He was in Jail. He had court. He was struggling with his drinking. He was hospitalised. He was smoking crack. He's trying to quit cigarettes. He was rough sleeping. He watched YouTube preachers, read his Bible and prayed. He'd condemn himself. He was wracked with guilt. He was trying to protect us all. The agnosing cycle continued until I saw him no more.

I'd pray for answers. I'd pray for his deliverance. I felt helpless.

I haven't seen Jerry for over a year now, I hope I'll see him again. I feel helpless, I want to see him safely housed and at peace.

I feel helpless, but I do have a millimetre of hope and that’s enough because I've seen miracles happen, time and time again. I often reflect on the father with the sick child, who with a millimetre of hope cried out desperately to Jesus, “I do believe, help my unbelief.” Hope lingers like a smouldering wick. Maybe he’s in a safe place now. I believe our journey isn’t over.

I wasn’t going to include this, but I feel I need to as a follower of Jesus: I wrote this to challenge my own shortcomings. I have tried to humanise someone who is often dehumanised by people who should be leading the way in humanising the dehumanised. People like Jerry should never be ostracised from our Churches, but they are. People like Jerry are feared and othered and rejected in our Churches. People like Jerry should be embraced and included and protected and elevated. It is to our utter shame that the Jerrys of this world do not fit into our neat little cliches. I write this as a challenge to Christians everywhere, because Jesus claimed that he is the sick, the prisoner and the stranger (Matthew 25). I write this to inspire us because Jesus claimed His Kingdom should be a movement that liberates the oppressed, frees the captives and blesses the poor. Jesus calls us to love our neighbours as ourselves, all neighbours, not just the neighbours who are easy and nice and offer us something in return.

Three Reflections on My Encounters with Jerry:

1. Incarceration Is Not The Answer: Australia incarcerated him and then shipped him off to Aotearoa primarily because of petty crimes and his struggle with his mental health. In New Zealand, he's rotating in and out of jail primarily because he struggles with his mental health. Jerry’s story happened here, but I’ve seen similar and worse in Chicago. The United States has 5% of the world's population but 25% of the prison population. A big reason for this disparity is because it regularly jails those who struggle with their mental health. Chicago's Cook County Jail is known to be one of the country's biggest mental health providers (along with Rikers and LA County Jail). Our jails and prisons shouldn't be mental health institutions. These 3 countries need to do better, incarceration is not the answer. Jerry and countless others deserve better.
2. We Need Better Solutions for Those Struggling with Their Mental Health: Jimmy Carter stated: “The measure of a society is found in how they treat their weakest and most helpless citizens.” I don't know the exact answer, but I DO know we need more Housing solutions. I DO know the "tough on crime" rhetoric often targets those in poverty and those struggling with their mental health. I DO know we need safe appropriate places where people are honoured and respected for who they are. I DO know more funding and consideration should be put into creating those places. I DO know our weakest and most vulnerable deserve care, love, compassion and a home, not handcuffs and a jail cell.
3. Love is The Answer: It's always the answer. Love can use its imagination to create wonderful initiatives for people like Jerry. Love will put more money and resources into helping our most vulnerable and marginalised, rather than into creating more weapons and prisons. Love will look at the person and see a child of God worthy of our love, mercy, compassion and assistance. Love patiently walks with those struggling through the vicious cycles that never seem to end. Let me remind us of Paul's words: "Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends"

• To read more about my reflections on Outreach and why I believe it's needed, please click this Link: The Eclectic Path of an Outreach Worker: Reaching Out to Those Experiencing Homelessness