I am pastor at Zion Lutheran Church in the urban Midway Neighborhood of St. Paul, MN. Every Thursday our doors are open to any who can use a home made meal, a bag of groceries, a warm place to spend the day, and/or a little safe, welcoming human contact.
There are surprises often enough on Thursdays at Zion. But this was a new one. Someone had made their way into the sanctuary and up to the balcony and, finding the rope for the bell, began ringing it like mad.
I excused myself from a small group discussion, muttering something that rhymes with "What the bell?", I made my way to the sanctuary and asked the silhouette of a man I could see in the dim light to please stop. And he did.
I climbed the stairs to the balcony and found him sitting on a church pew in the dark. He was young, barely more than 20, in a jacket and sweatpants, thick black hair, strong build, and agitated--though not in a threatening way, just incredibly fidgety.
I thanked him for listening to me about the bell. I asked his name:
"Ben."
"Are you ok?"
"No, not really."
"You seem really nervous."
"Yeah, I feel real anxious."
"Are you on any drugs right now?"
"Yes, amphetamines, I need them to feel normal."
At this point I invited him down to my office to talk if he'd like to. He agreed, gathering up his bags. He was unsteady on his feet and his sweatpants kept slipping down.
In my office he couldn't sit still. He paced as we talked. He rearranged some books, turned on the stereo to some music he likes, and then sat at my desk and took notes on my note pad during our talk.
He grew up in Hastings, always suffered anxiety, and was hard on his family. He left home early and has bounced around in shelters and under bridges. Said he wants to get clean and heard Teen Challenge was a good place. I called and spoke to Stephanie, a counselor. She was amazing and spoke with Ben directly. No, he could not come there without a rule 25 chemical dependency evaluation, and their next appointment was next week.
Stephanie told him she had been where he is. She recommended going to St. Joseph's Hospital, as she had done. He could detox in safety, with attendant drug therapy. It was his best option. We thanked Stephanie. Then Ben used my phone to call his sister for advice. She agreed with Stephanie. "St. Jo's is your best option. Please go," she said.
But he could not. I offered to drive him. Appealed to the good advice he just received. "They will put me in the Psych Ward. I can't go there again. It's too confining. I feel safer on the street."
With that, Ben grabbed a doughnut and a coffee, and hit the street.
"Left the building."
Yet he definitely had rung our bell.
