This is a phrase I've heard bandied about with regard to people who volunteer in street ministry.
Name-calling is a popular pastime. It's easier to call someone an "enabling leftist wacko" than to respectfully disagree. We get called "do-gooders" and "troublemakers." We get accused of doing more harm than good.
We also get charged sometimes with just doing what we do in order to "feel good about ourselves."
Been thinking about that lately; I wish.
I wish I could "do good" for someone unhoused, or addicted, or mentally ill and then walk away feeling better than before.
'Cause it generally doesn't work that way.
In fact, the vast majority of the time, I walk away feeling worse.
I might experience a boost of personal gratitude for all the good with which I've been blessed: family, mental health, enough of everything. But it's a background harmony note played in tension to the overtone of, "Well that was inadequate."
Today I had to go for a long walk after connecting for the first time with a person who finds themselves suddenly on the street. They've found shelter at a local motel, and I got a call asking if my ministry could cover the cost of one night. That's doable. I also have a pocket full of Timmie's cards that I was given, so I drove over to the motel to share what I had.
I talked to my new friend for a while in their room, the same room vacated by another friend a week ago. I stood at the foot of the bed where they sat because there's no chair. Heard their story of having received a letter in the mail that they didn't understand but that, it turned out, gave them 72 hours to vacate their apartment. Of opening the door to a knock and finding a uniform on their doorstep, with paperwork that basically said, "out now." Of grabbing a few things that they could fit into a 'carry-on' size suitcase, and walking out the door.
My friend said that what makes it worse is that they are angry at themselves for the things they did to make the situation worse. They know they messed up, but who deserves this? We talked about that a little.
I networked with another care provider in town who has meals and other resources to offer. I asked my new friend, "Are you a hugger?" They leapt up off the bed, arms open. We hugged. I left.
'Cause that's what I have to offer. A listening ear. A few words of pastoral guidance. A prayer. A phone number. A human contact.
And I walked away feeling like dirt. Looking for something to punch. Because.
I can't help with housing. People keep asking me and I keep having to say, "no." There isn't much out there, what there is is too expensive, and I don't have any strings to pull.
I can't drive them over to the shelter. They've been traumatised too much already to even walk through the door.
I can only pay for one night at the motel. Even that is most of my monthly budget.
Have I helped? I guess. By showing up. But tomorrow my friend has to keep seeking answers and help. Right now they just want their stuff back out of the apartment, and a new one to put it into. Their pictures, their keepsakes, their summer clothes, because they walked out into winter.
So, no. I don't do what I do because it makes me feel good about myself. It makes me feel inadequate to the needs that exist. That don't ever ever stop. It makes me angry because the lack of affordable housing should never have got this bad. Because human scum should not be getting rich keeping people addicted to horrific drugs laced with poisons. Because there shouldn't be 6 month waiting lists for rehab. Because people shouldn't be so traumatised by other people that they can't face going to the only shelter in town.
I guess I'm just venting. If I've been so clueless, so self-focussed for the last 20 years that I actually have a 'saviour complex,' that would make me some spectacular brand of fool.
Call me names if you want. I'll probably just laugh and put them on a t-shirt.
But never think that I do this because it's fun.
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