Even before my departure, I heard via Leah's reports that Vancouver's Downtown Eastside was Canada's poorest postal code, a few city blocks packed with rampant addictions and conspicuous prostitution, widespread homelessness and overwhelming brokenness. From a photojournalistic stance, it was a surreal world I was readily willing to capture. So, when we were about to set off for our tour of that specific area, I was naturally disappointed (and somewhat bitter) as Leah told me that it would be a real good idea to leave the camera behind.
It took a few minutes, but I eventually got over it and we finally started off. Along the way, Leah described much of what we saw from the destructive effects of gentrification* to the disturbingly acceptable culture of the streets. (Take for example that the Vancouver Police Station is literally across the street from the corner where a lot of the drug-dealers linger (right in front of the community center nonetheless).)
As (just about) always, Leah was right; it was a good idea to leave my camera behind. With empty hands, I was able to fully register the overwhelming experience of what I witnessed. By the time we passed through the Bottle Depot section, my mind was drained and my face stoic.
I didn't like what I saw in my heart. There was a lot of fear, and in turn, I ironically (but I suppose naturally) put up a front of toughness. This is where I learned where I stood with God and His people, where I discovered that cerebral theology—even with an earnest heart—can only get you so far if life is lived in disconnected comfort.
(In the process, I also found that the truest form of toughness is vulnerability. And God showed me that I still have a lifetime's work to go.)
Grabbing lunch at the community center (yes, the same one with all the drug-dealers out in front (the food was cheap and surprisingly good)), Leah and I ran into "Gabriel" and engaged in what turned out to be a (seemingly God-ordained) lengthy conversation.
Probably introverted and minding his own business, "Gabriel" agreed to come join us at our table. Before we knew it, he basically divulged his life story, sharing in detail wild episodes from God calling out for him while he was caught up in drugs, to God's providential guidance and supernatural protection. He's a local who knows the deal; he's a believer on the ground. Addiction is the problem, but money isn't the answer.
Honest. Transparent. Vulnerable. Tough. He should be a preacher. (He said if you want to find out about yourself, spend a year in the Downtown Eastside. Only a mere afternoon and I could see how right on he was.)
All that to say, if there was one thing I could have conveyed through an image of the DTES, it was the existence of a spiritual rock bottom beneath the rock bottom as the world knows... the utter helplessness of man to rescue man. Never in my entire life had I felt as helpless as I did in the thick of that broken street, seeing bodies drift around as if their souls had been stolen. No heap of money, no amount of time spent in detox, no man-made program can restore that. (And it made me realize that any real power that I ever thought I wielded was not my own.)
No man can fix this. Only God can change, only God can save. "Gabriel" stands as living proof of that undeniable power.
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* gentrification: the process of renewal and rebuilding accompanying the influx of middle-class or affluent people into deteriorating areas that often displaces poorer residents
Imagine a town (full of poor Ramen-eating college kids) building nothing but five-star restaurants.
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