I chose to spend part of December in Denver as homeless.   being in prayer about what to do for my next album. And Being in prayer about my walk with Christ, one of the things that my walk needed to be was “real”.  I find that Christ is faithful,  I am not. What am I experiencing? That Christ is forgiving, and I am forgiven. What I am learning? To repent and to keep running the race. Yes, there are days when I ask the Lord , why me? His loving reply is; “I have mercy on whom I choose, and I choose to be merciful to you.” The Joy I feel is because Jesus is the rock of my life.  In the past I have put other things before Christ and they all, in the end, left me with nothing but an empty feeling of longing. 

So the challenge was for me to be "real" with my next album. The Lord put on my heart this “Make an album for His people.  When you are finished, give it to my children for them to give to people who give to them. I will take care of it.”  I decided that I will not be remove or miss any more of the Lord's blessings. I want to be obedient. I want to be present in the giving.  Christ has taken such great care of me.  I truly don’t need  for anything. What can I give?  My life to a Lord that sacrificed himself for my salvation.  “When you feed the least of these, you are feeding me. When you give to the least one of these you are giving to me.” If I love Christ and Christ is the poor, am I giving anything at all to Christ? The answer was a big fat NO! Out of fear, I hoarded what God has given to me. I am learning how to do the other. It starts and ends with Christ. If I am a follower of Christ, I will love him and give to him my money,time, and life.
Being selfish by nature,  generousity to a greedy world is something I struggle with. It helps if I see the world through Christ eyes as it truly is, in need.  If I see the world as dead and dying trying to cover up sin with materialistic band aids, I find myself more compassionate. Only by the grace of the Lord, am I learning to surrender  my sin. I am blessed when I am obedient. When it comes to how important my contributions are, does God really need my small input to be God?  Absolutly not. The truth is, I need Him. He loves me. If I do as He tells me in His word, I will be blessed. This still doesn’t make walking by faith any easier; it is just a truth that will set me free...if I accept it.

Hitting the streets, and not being afraid to walk in faith, is one of those things that , trying to practice, can be difficult . When walking in faith, there are a few “you have got to be kidding me!” moments.  When the Lord opens our imaginations and says, “Here’s what I’m thinking” it never seems to fit in the scope of my little comfort zone.  As I told my brother at church, I am excited and scared to death.
The most homeless I have ever been was when I was playing in rock bands and sleeping on people’s couches in L.A.
Where do missions start? At home. The Lord gave me a word: “Start local and go global.” 
Wasn’t that what Christ did? Didn’t he offer the blessings of his salvation "first to the Jew, then the gentile?"
    I only packed a tooth-brush, a Bible, a notebook and few clothes. While my wife was driving me to drop me off, we were silent; except for my occasional “please slow down” we said nothing. She was running late and I think my exclamation of what I felt I needed to do did not please her (it was probably more my timing). 
She drop me off where I thought the light rail (train) ran down town. I was wrong.  Walking about two miles to the train station, the time was covered in prayer and meditation. 
    Figured I was only going to be gone for four days, I had only taken with me a roll of quarters and two rolls of dimes. The ticket for the light rail one way down town was $3.50. I got on the train. Sharing conversation with a woman, I found that she had been in prison. She was helpful in telling me the place where I needed to get off.
The holidays, maybe it is just the way of the world or its need for salvation, but the Christmas season has sadness  or longing I can’t quite put my finger on. Matbe it is our need for Christ to come?

The “Poor and least of these”? Who and what are they? In the streets of Denver I recalled the movie “A Christmas Carol”. I remembered the ghost that was floating over a homeless person in the alley.  A ghost was how I felt, in the sense that, I was no longer in my world of comfort, but entering into a world of homelessness.

I believe I got off at Broadway. All I know was that my mind was racing about where and what I needed to do to get a place to sleep.  I was fighting every natural impulse to do what seems to be normal and that was to"survive!" Everything was screaming at me to go back to my warm home. 
    As I was standing in line outside the mission, one of the guys said. “Who in their right mind would choose to be out in the streets?” Checking my mental stability was the last thing on the list. First, I needed to have a headquarter; some place I could write, read, and study. I went to the public down town Denver library. The guard at the door was friendly. After he searched my back pack, I walked pass what looked like a metal detector of some sort. Going to the desk, a tattooed younger man put a stamp on my already existing library card. He informed me that, if I was homeless, I could use the missions as a home; that a lot a people do that. He told me I simply needed to mail myself something to the mission and that that would allow me to have an acceptable address. Because I had a library card from another county, he gave me a sticker on my already existing card. This would service me for the next few days(it's the little things). I asked where the mission was? My new tatooed friend instructed me it was about twenty plus blocks north.  I started walking. (One thing I did was a lot of was walking.)

Some of the following is from my journal:

The cold  winter  night seeps into your joints and turns you into wood. I noticed my walk had changed. When you are cold for long periods of time, there is a type of waddle that you start to adapt. I’m not sure why. While I was standing in line, numbly waiting for the "bed lottery" to start, I was talking to a shorter man with grey hair in a pony tail and on his head glasses. “Yeah if you can’t get in here, you can go to Saint Francis.” It was a large Chatholic church down the block that was a sister organization. I went over the next day and signed a paper that made me “officially homeless”. I explained to the clerk that I was doing an album and wanted to research being homeless before I wrote about it. She looked at me sideways. I asked her when I got my paper,if , "I was officially homeless”. She said yes. I was excited and thrilled to be a part of Christ’s brotherhood on earth. I left her my website and thanked her. I  sat next to Michael. He was fast asleep. I left my things next to him. 

In the massive lobby packed with folding tables, that where full of the men and women seeking shelter for the day, I wanted to see if I could find a Bible study.  As I walked around my heart sank. I saw only one person with a small bible laughing while he read. Not feeling too encouraged, (and feeling like I needed to get to work on a college paper that was due), I left and walked to the library.

On the way I stopped at McDonald’s. (I don’t care what anyone says about McDonald’s. When I needed a place to go, it was nice and warm. So there is a thousand ammonia soaked cattle in one beef patty; at least the doors were open, and they offered me warmth. Not to mention, the people were friendly. Thank you down town Denver McDonald’s!) As I walk in, I noticed that there are a lot of homeless people. We were the early crowd, the Street Crowd. There is a feeling of being lost that I think Christ was talking about; when you don’t have a family…when you don’t have a friend…when you have no one, when you are simply lost. There is a spiritual bankruptcy that leads to awareness of the need for Christ, but there is also a literal place on earth where one feels the separation from the good of God and this world.

I originally started this project with the lofty idea that I was going to spend forty days on the streets. I decided to spend only four days then come home and write a song then go back out. The reality is this: I was out there only two days, and I was broken and loosing hope faster than I could gain it. I felt myself becoming mean. There is no other word for it. Maybe, it is the lack of love in this world that draws the life out of people?

I went to the library and checked my email. All I could think about was, I needed to get in line so I could get a meal. I decided to buy myself a $1 hot dog. As I came up to the vendor, an intoxicated man approached me and asked “You got any extra change? I’ve lost everything, my girl friend, my home...” “Would you like me to buy you a hot dog?”  As though I had asked him the stupidest question on earth, he replied "H*#* yeah".  After garnishing his dog with sour kraut and mustard (He did look German) he walked over to a small crowed of men. After I finished fixing my own dog, as I started to pass their small crowd.  One of the men confront me “Hey man thanks for getting him a hotdog; he really needed it. By the way, do you have any extra change?”
There is a look in the eye of a man who is begging that, if you let it, can  haunt you.  

Thinking that I would be on the street for a few more days, I was starting to wonder how I was, going to make last, the few coins I had left. I had not thought that I was going to have to beg. I would save that thought for later. I like to break my pride one little arrogant step at a time.  I said before, the street and the cold eat at you. It takes small bites, but you start to notice.

Every one was gearing up for the "Festival Of Lights parade." I walked over to Starbucks. . It was by, what I believe, God’s hand, that I was led to this place. After I walked in and ordered my coffee, I asked what looked like the manager for the security code of the bathroom door. It was one of those four metal digit self locking devises.  As I was peeling off my under-layers, a person tried the locked door. I started to worry that maybe I was taking too much time. There is a fear of being put out into the street that I did not know existed. The feeling is that you are a scavenger, not wanted, and society, if they find out, will chase you off.  I looked still somewhat socially acceptable, so the manager never came, but I do think they noticed that I paid for my coffee in dimes.

As the Christmas music played Johnny Mathis and he said “Merry Christmas to you”,

my thoughts drifted to the daughters that I have never known. I saw the fathers with their little girls, and watched as they enjoyed being parents. The loneliness was vision like. It felt as though God put me in a homeless body. I felt the “real me” bleeding through the façade I had constructed.  The "reality" that I was trying to believe in was failing to withstand the holy fire God had set to it. In the past, I didn’t believe in the Truth; I believed in lies. I didn’t love things, I lusted after them. Now it was different. God was allowing me the privilege to see myself from outside. What was I doing? There is a moment in the movie “It’s A Wonderful Life” when Clarence, the angel, is standing with George Bailey. The camera zooms into a tight close up of Jimmy Stewart’s face and his eyes are stretched wide. Finally, he sees that the world he once belonged to was gone and he no longer existed. The parallel was close. The only difference from Jimmy and I, was that I’m called to die to myself and pick up my cross to be worthy to be called a follower of Christ. Can I do this? Can I put my hand on the plow and never look back? The Bible says “…to work out you salvation with fear and trembling...” and that “…many will come in my name saying Lord? Lord? I will say depart from me you worker of iniquity for I never knew you”. I know that my salvation does not rest in my hands; otherwise, I have no hope to be with my Lord in Heaven. It is because of His mercy and grace that I even know of this Word. He chose me; I did not choose him. He saved me; I did not save him. I was a thief and a liar. He restored me and made me whole. What Christ chooses to love is His alone. My Spirit cries out to the Father and he hears me.

            I call my wife from a pay phone on the 16^th Street Mall. I hope she is still talking to me. Being a selfish "clanging symbol" when I left, I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t answer. She picks up.

“Hi honey!”

Her voice is sweet and soothes the loneliness that has been eating a hole in my chest.

“Hi hon’ I want to come home.”

“OK, where are you?”

“16^th street and Court there is a Sheraton and a place called Katie Mullen’s on the corner.”

I hear her sweet voice say
“I’ll be there in about an hour.”

I hang up relieved that my new wife still loves me, and will take me back. By an indention created by the building, I stand out of the relentless cold. I hear what sounds like music. There, in the cold,  is an acoustic up right piano, in tune!!!  There is a man, in a top hat, playing Christmas Carols.   A sign propped next to him reads, "Anyone is welcome to play ". After the guy in the top hat leaves, I pick at the chilled keys, not feeling very inspired, I walk back to where I was.

While eagerly eyeing each car for my wife and her warmth, a shadow approaches me.

“Hey man I’m trying to buy a beer and I only need a few more cents.”

I think of Proverbs 31: 6-7 “Give beer to those who are perishing, wine to those who are in anguish; let them drink and forget their poverty and remember their misery no more.”

I dig through my pockets till I find every last dime. The guilt and shame for not being able to follow through with my initial plans hurry my hands. As I rifle through my back pack and clothes I feel the guilt of a thief. What am I stealing? Stinging my pride with needles, I see how truly weak and pathetic I am. I thought I was going to get an album idea without paying for it. I thought it wasn't going to touch me. I thought, that somehow, I was going to be superman and save some one.
Instead, after only two days, because I am broken and afraid, my wife is coming to take me home. This guy, has only the streets to go back to. 
 After searching every pocket and bag, I come up with a dollar, mostly dimes.
"Here you go." I try to give an encouraging smile.

He thanks me, and I watch my brother walk into the bone cold night... alone.

greggreermusic@gmail.com

   
Love in Christ,

Greg.

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