We were on outreach downtown when we saw you and your friend across the street. You were getting high in the doorway and looked to be about twenty years old. When we asked you how you were doing, you looked up thoughtfully and said, “I am depressed.” What followed was one of the sweetest conversations I have ever had. You told me that you had overdosed four times and that street drugs help quiet the voices in your head. You have a prescription for anti-psychotics and for your seizures but it’s near impossible to get them filled. I offer my understanding of ADHA and why abusing Adderall can make sense on the street. Staying awake and focused might mean staying alive. You know sign language and teach us how to say, “I am having a seizure.” You are more self-aware than the world gives you credit for and talk about how communicating in sign language helps with your schizophrenia. You tell me that you have heart problems and that sometimes it’s hard to breathe. Your friend is older than you and shares his concern for you and your safety. He has saved your life several times and humbly waves off my words of praise and affirmation. You tell us how he is the only person you can trust. Throughout our conversation, you speak blessings in the name of God over us. We give you sandwiches, socks, water, and Narcan and I offer to pray for you. I ask if you want me to pray with you now or later. With great urgency and without hesitation you say, “I would like for you to pray for me right now.” We pray and your fragile body responds to the ministering Spirit of God. I pray for your heart and can feel the animation of life. It’s as if a big bowl of soup has begun to stir itself. When we’re done praying, you thank me and tell me that the prayer made you cry. Before we leave, you tell us that you think you need to go to the hospital. We call 911 and you begin to have an intense and lengthy seizure. People start to gather. Homeless people are worried that you’re overdosing and frantically ask if I have any Narcan. The owner of the art gallery we are in front of knows his homeless neighbors and is genuinely concerned. An infectious disease doctor happens to walk by, and we all make sure your windpipe is open and that you don’t smash your head on the ground. The paramedics come and are surprisingly kind. They thank us and let us know graciously and forcefully that they will take it from here. “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God (Romans 8:26-27).”

Michael Cox