Even as a person who has been set free from drug addiction and who has experienced homelessness, nothing could have prepared me for that first trip to Kensington. I remember getting out of the vehicle, looking around, and crying because of what I saw. I turned my back to the rest of the group and faced a wall so no one could see the tears falling. It was absolutely heartbreaking to see the condition of the people there. I remember the smell too. It’s a smell that can’t be described. Some say it’s the odor of rotting human flesh, others say it’s the excrement on the sidewalk where people are forced to defecate because there aren’t bathrooms for them to use. I felt as if I was in some sort of movie, one of the movies about a zombie apocalypse. People everywhere were standing, yet their bodies were completely folded over at the waist, their arms dangling down towards the sidewalk and their heads, just inches from the ground. I couldn’t imagine the pain a person would feel after being in that position for hours and then trying to stand up again. A lot of them remain hunched over and develop a lump on their back. After a while, they can never stand straight again. Others lay on the sidewalk, in all sorts of positions, eyes rolled back in their head, barely breathing. I have stopped many times to check and see if any sign of life was coming from them, the rise and fall of their chest, to make sure they are breathing. We’ve even called ambulances for people who need emergency medical care.

I was shocked to see how open people were with their drug use. Smells of marijuana, crack cocaine, methamphetamine and whatever else, often drift by as we make our way down the sidewalks. Then there’s the syringes. They are everywhere. The orange caps litter the sidewalks, street and even the park. The name of the park is McPherson Square, but everyone calls it “needle park” because the ground is littered with them. At one point, there were more orange caps than green grass. I’ve seen people sitting in the grass at the park or on the sidewalks, openly injecting themselves. Sometimes they are successful and sometimes they sit crying because they can’t get the drug into their system. I remember one woman crying out for someone to come help her get high because her hands were shaking from withdraw symptoms. She had blood running down her arm from poking herself with the needle too many times.

When we visit Kensington, we always start out by handing out food, drinks, clothing, wound care kits (whatever we have that day). I’m usually on coffee duty. Oftentimes, I don’t get to talk to each person, but I make sure I give them a big smile or tell them that Jesus loves them. Some people will engage in conversation, but others grab their stuff and keep moving. There are quite a few who are receptive to prayer. Being able to pray with even just one person makes the trip worth it! When we start to get low on food, some of us go in groups out on the streets to hand out snacks, bottled water, and most importantly, we pray with them and share the good news of Jesus. As someone who grew up in a Christian household, I suppose I always assumed that everyone knows about Jesus. However, this isn’t the case. It surprises me when people say they don’t know about God and they aren’t sure who Jesus is. But it opens a door for conversation! (Praise God)

I believe God has called me to this area because He delivered me from fifteen years of drug addiction for a reason. I often compare myself to someone who was saved from a burning building. I can now run back into that building and help pull others out. God has a plan and purpose for my life. There have been many times when I came home from a day of serving and wondered if I was doing enough or making an impact for the Kingdom of God. Through prayer, God reminded me that He is in control, and I am His vessel. Even if I don’t get to see what happens in the hearts of the people we are serving, I must trust that the results are up to my Lord and savior, Jesus Christ. The Lord has reminded me over and over to share my story with those in Kensington. When we go out and talk to people on the streets, I notice that when I tell them, I’ve been through addiction and God has set me free, it catches their attention. They listen to my story, and I see hope enter their eyes. “And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, and they did not love their lives to the death”. (Revelation 12:11)

I always make it a point to learn the names of each person we pray for, so that I can continue lifting them up in prayer after we part ways. Prayer is just as powerful whether I am there with a person, or 50 miles away from them. Addiction is often described as cunning, baffling and powerful. These seem to be the characteristics of an entity and not of a disease. There is a spiritual battle going on in Kensington and I believe the Lord has called me to be a warrior. “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.” (Ephesians 6:12). Prayer is powerful and it shifts atmospheres. Even if I don’t see change with my physical eyes, I know that God is moving in the hearts of people in that area. “While we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:18)

The people of Kensington need prayer, they need Jesus. They need to be rescued from the powers of darkness and the Lord is sending people to fight for Him. I am so honored that God has called me to this area.