One of my memories of childhood was seeing men downtown walking around wearing
what we called sandwich boards. They were two boards, one in front and one at
the back, held together with pieces of string, and advertising some product or
other. I also remember that every so often some Christian entrepreneur would
walk around with a board that said, “Repent, the end is nigh.”
It used to worry me because more often than not these men looked as though they
were at least as old as God, and I was sure that they would know what they were
talking about. It was only when I looked behind them that I doubted their
prophetic message which on the back read, “Buy your life insurance now.” They
would also accost passersby with the question, “Have you found Jesus?” to which
I would invariably answer, “I did not know He was lost mate, but if I see Him, I
will let you know.”
My other memory was of the Salvation Army walking in and out of pubs selling
their newspaper The War Cry. Not a great read, from what I recall, but everyone
respected them for the work they did with the poor on the streets, and so would
reach into their pocket to drop a donation into their bag. “Whatever floats your
evangelical boat,” as they say, but to be honest I have taken my cue from an
approach I heard many years ago: “Make a friend, be a friend, bring your friend
to Christ.”
It takes time and patience, and so many people instead go for the quick hit of
trying to bring their new-found stranger to Christ through theological
haranguing. It’s the equivalent of walking across a carpeted floor and zapping
the first person you meet with a handshake of electrical charge. It takes time
for a heart to change, and we have to be patient.
Readers of this column may recall a young lady I have mentioned a few times
during the past year. She was new to the area of prostitution where I walk, and
the first time she met me she enquired if I wanted a “date.” When I explained my
reason for being downtown, she abruptly turned her back and walked away.
For the next nine months, when she saw me coming, she would turn her back and
look in the opposite direction. Then one evening, when I smiled across the road
to her, she smiled back. This has slowly progressed from a smile, to a wave, to
a “good evening,” to the point at which she has entrusted me with her name and
asked for prayers. This approach has often resulted in true friendships being
established with those I meet, and the presence of Jesus has been reawakened in
their lives.
I experienced a different approach to street ministry recently. I was
accompanied on the street by someone who had been involved in street ministry
elsewhere and who wanted to walk with me and see how I approached people that I
met. At one point towards the end of the evening, we met a young man who was
hanging out in an area rife with drugs and addicts. We stopped to talk with him,
and when he saw my clerical collar, he said that he was a Muslim.
The person I was with then asked him what he thought about Jesus, and he
explained his theological reason for rejecting Jesus as son of God. Thirty
minutes later, the two of them were still going around the same theological
circle for the fourth time, but neither seemed to be listening to the other. The
young man finally walked away saying, “I think you should read the Koran.”
There are many approaches to ministry, but each challenges us to be careful that
we are not just trying to get a notch on our ministerial belts, especially when
we are with the people of the beatitudes; those who have been hurt by life.
Jean Vanier reminded us of this in a story that has influenced me tremendously.
“A man had a ministry on the streets of a city, and one lady he knew well died
in his arms. Before she died, she said, ‘You always wanted to change me, but you
never met me.’
“We want to change people” Vanier said, “but often we don’t want to listen to
them. The essential thing in every meeting is trust. How long does that take? —
seconds, minutes, years? It depends on how deep their wounds are.”
(Kinghorn is a deacon in the Archdiocese of Toronto.)