Pit of Despair
The following is a true and very sad story about a young man who was thrust into a bad situation without his consent but is now quickly approaching death through his own choices and actions.
This last Friday night, I was at one of my favorite places to be, the streets of Hollywood. The beginning of my night was spent introducing roughly 20 first-timers to our street ministry. After prayer as a large group, we separated into groups of twos and threes and headed out onto the sidewalks to strike up conversations with addicts, prostitutes, security guards, merchants, and the like. This Friday, I was grouped with a man and his young daughter. Since there were a lot of first-timers out that night and because my two partners were a bit shy, I spent a lot of time just showing them around. We also spent a lot of time in prayer. We prayed for the men going in and out of the adult book store, the security guards, police officers, and more.
The three of us were praying in the 7-11 parking lot when one of the first-timers came up to me to ask what our options were for helping get people off the street. If he meant what I thought he meant, then it was all that more important to continue the praying so I asked my two partners to continue praying while I went just a few feet away to meet the person who wanted to get off the street.
His name was ‘Denise’, and, although he appeared to be as old as 35, he was actually 21. His long hair and makeup told me he was a prostitute, but his jeans and the stick he used as a crutch told me that he was on sick leave. He appeared to be sober and recently groomed. A number of things happened and Denise and I ended up alone in the parking lot. We sat momentarily on a windowsill but he was obviously very uncomfortable physically and so we relocated to a bus stop bench. Here is what I learned about Denise in our few minutes alone: Denise’s mom literally dropped him off on the streets when he was just 13-years-old. Since then, Denise has had no contact with his biological family. His family now consists of “street moms”, older transvestite and transgender prostitutes that have taught him the ropes. When I asked why these “moms” would help him out, he suggested that it gave them a sense of motherly pride, to be looked up to and to help raise someone else up.
As if Denise’s life was not hard enough already, Denise started having lower body problems nearly two years ago, and he eventually went to see a doctor when he could no longer feel his legs. He was diagnosed with cancer and underwent treatment from January through November of 2008. He did not say what kind of cancer or where exactly it was but he did state that they sliced up his back rather badly. I have to assume then that he had cancer in his back. In any case, the cancer has returned and it is affecting his ability to work. Somewhere in the conversation, I asked where he slept at night. He said that he typically worked enough, even in his current condition, to have enough money to pay for his own motel room every night. He said he never slept (as in actual sleep) with his clients.
Eventually, Nick, one of the leaders of our street ministry, joined us and I introduced him to Denise. From that point on, I mostly just observed as Nick told him about the only possible option available at that hour of the night to get him off the street. (We always act immediately, because if we don’t it doesn’t happen at all.) Right then and there, Nick offered to drive Denise to a Christian-based rehab center that would teach Denise about the Bible and Jesus while also helping him into the next step in his journey toward a full recovery. In Denise’s case, full recovery would include medical treatment, weening off of drugs, and introduction to new skills as necessary to perform a job other than prostitution. As Nick laid out the details of the rehabilitation process, Denise was naturally hesitant but also very willing to move forward with it. He seemed both excited and nervous simultaneously, kind of like a soon-to-be college freshmen visiting a University for the first time. Then Nick hit him with this: “The place you will be living at only houses men. You will have to embrace your masculinity there. You will have to start seeing yourself as a man instead of a woman. Can you do that?” There was a prolonged pause as Nick and I waited in baited breath to hear Denise’s response. His eventual reply was, “I am willing to work on it.” So that was it. We all got up to leave, to walk Denise and Nick to Nick’s vehicle where Denise would be driven away from that hopeless, life-draining place.
Just a word of caution, from this point on, the story takes a nose dive for the worse. You see, part way through the conversation with Nick, an older white man that I have met on the streets before came and sat on the bench behind Denise, unbeknownst to him. In my encounters with this man before, he was typically mildly intoxicated and looking for some sort of action with one or more of the young prostitutes or dealers on the streets. I have never had a worthwhile conversation with him about anything since he seems to be very focused on pleasuring himself, something that I can’t help him with.
As Denise got up to start his walk toward freedom, this man said something that I couldn’t quite hear but that was loud enough to get Denise’s attention. We all had our backs to him since we had been walking away and as I turned to see what Denise was looking at, I saw a wicked grin on the man’s face. Denise looked at the man, then at Nick, then at the man, then back at Nick, and then stated, “Umm… can I go tomorrow? I have something that I want to do tonight.”
Denise did not make his way to freedom that night. The man with the wicked smile had something to offer Denise that Denise thought was more valuable than his very life. Denise turned her back on free (or very cheap) medical care, a place to live, food, and more. I suppose there are other possible explanations to what I witnessed, but, considering Denise’s physical state and everything else, I have come to only one conclusion on the matter. This man was one of Denise’s dealers. He even mentioned that he sometimes slept at his place. Denise only earned money one way. As despairing as it sounds, it seems that Denise went back to that man’s place that night (or perhaps into a dark part of an alley) where Denise was given his “fix” while the man got his “pay” from Denise’s body.
I originally entitled this blog entry “Death Vortex” (instead of “Pit of Despair”) because that is what Denise is stuck in. He is engulfed by a seemingly overwhelming force that he cannot get out of. It is simply just too strong for him. I implore all of you who are reading this to pray! Pray for Denise and the countless other young men and women who are in a similar state. Their plight may seem hopeless, but nothing is impossible for Jesus!
