Sights and Smells of Baltimore

Sitting in the bustling Enoch Pratt Library in downtown Baltimore, the sights, sounds, and smells are overwhelming. Upon entry, I go straight to the restroom (for obvious reasons, ie. I need to pee) and encounter a woman doing her hair and makeup. Red sores cover her face and she is muttering to herself. I escape to the bathroom stall only to turn back around. The stall is filled with the smell of urine is overwhelming. It not only fills the stall but covers the floor. The woman continues to mutter to herself. I finish my business and hurry to leave the smells that won't stop penetrating my nose. The library is the one place that the homeless can come to. It is public space. Here they can gain access to countless resources, internet, books, bathrooms, cheap coffee, and a place where people won't openly stare. As I look around, there is a woman slouched over in the corner sleeping. Here she feels safe. Safe enough to lay down her head against her chest and slip into slumber. I do not escape the smell of stale body odor and wet feet. They surround me, reminding me that cleanliness is a luxury.

Where is the church in all of this? When will it become public space? A space that the homeless or broken can come to rest. Where we will not shy away from the smells but embrace them. Every week after Open Table, I get ready to go to class and smell my hands. They smell like the men and women that I have just embraced and let embrace me. I am ashamed when I am so eager to get to the restroom to wash away the smell. Will we ever get there as the church? Will we ever get to the point where we care less about our possessions, our buildings, our ministries, that we will finally get to the point of ministering and building relationships? Relationships are messy, sometimes difficult, but ultimately what the church is about. How many homeless or ex-convicts or people in recovery are really in our churches? Not many. Probably because the church has become some place that they don't feel safe anymore. It has to start somewhere.