Tour of Atlanta

I used to think I had a fairly good grasp on most of the crap that happens in this world. Working with teens combined with following God's call to help ease pain in the world has led me down some pretty crazy paths. An experience in Atlanta last month rocked me hard.

I was in Atl for work, which usually means sitting in a conference room for long hours learning how to better help the teens I work with. One night, our learning turned experiential. We headed downtown to walk the streets with "Pastor" Kurt, a man who has dedicated his life to serving the homeless population. Kurt regularly spends 1-2 nights on the street developing relationships with the homeless. Personally, I don't know how he does it. Homeless people tend to smell. I don't like bad smells. Anyway, Kurt has been doing this work in downtown Atlanta for about 12 years. He knows most of the homeless people down there, and his countless hours downtown has made him very familiar with the layout of the area.

We started off on top of a parking garage where he gave us a bird's eye view of the downtown area, along with some disturbing statistics, like the large number of homeless men who are raped each month, primarily by drunk college kids. Roughly 9 out of 10 rapes come from these college students. I know, I couldn't believe it either. He pointed out where the different groups hang out. Gays over here, lesbians over there, stay away from that area if you're white, etc. It was here I started freaking out a little bit, because we were supposed to walk the streets ourselves after our tour, which because of time, didn't end up happening (much to my relief).

After our introduction, our tour of downtown Atlanta began. A couple things immediately jumped out at me. First, if Kurt wasn't a pastor, I'm sure he could win several speed walking competitions. The dude never slowed down! I also noticed how he connected with the homeless. As we walked, countless homeless men shouted, "Hey Pastor Kurt!", followed by them running up to him and giving him hugs. I was glad they didn't hug me. I was proud of myself for working up enough courage to shake their hands, and even then I wondered if I would contract some disease that hasn't even been heard of yet.

Then the stories began. Kurt told story after story, all things that he had witnessed personally. We would stop and say, "Right here, so-and-so accepted Jesus. The next night, a car slammed into him and pinned him against this light pole." Then we'd rekindle the marathon speed walk. We stopped on a street corner, and he gave us a quick lesson on the law. According to federal law, it is illegal for anyone under the age of 18 to take their clothes off for money. I then learned of a loophole to this law. Apparently, it is kosher for a person under 18 to do this if they have parental permission and it is for artistic purposes.

It's funny how some people define art. A club in downtown Atlanta considers 12 and 13 year old girls dancing nude for older men artistic. The parents of these "models" do to, considering they gave their permission to do so, not to mention collect $100 an hour for their contribution to the artistic world. At least their is glass separating these girls from the connoisseurs.

If my emotions were not stirred up enough by this point, then came the pinnacle of the evening. We stopped at a freeway overpass, and Kurt pointed out a 15-20 story abandoned building. At first I thought, "So what? It's just a building." Then he pointed out the writing in large black letters across the top. They read, "WHITE POWER. KILL ALL THE BLACKS." Anger filled my heart and curiosity filled my mind. How could people get away with this? This is the 21st century! Gotta love the first amendment.

Kurt told us the story:

"This building is owned by a white supremist in New York who is involved with a white supremacy organization. In order to become a member of this elite club, one must show their commitment to the cause by killing a black person. This building serves as the base for this act of initiation. About three times a year, we'll see a light on in the building or a fire burning inside, and we know a black homeless man will die within a week."

He then pointed to an abandoned parking lot across the freeway from this building. "Where we're heading is hallowed ground," he said. "In order for these men to become a part of this organization, they must hang a black man and set his body on fire. This parking lot is where it happens. They will film the entire act from the building as proof of their actions."

We walked by the parking lot, and rage filled my soul (and still does now a month later). At the edge of the parking lot was white-washed wall standing about 8 feet tall. Across the top of this wall was a horizontal pipe about 6-8 feet long where the noose was draped over. Below this pipe, charred black marks covered the white paint. We were twenty feet away from the spot where black men were hung and set aflame in the name of white power.

"Have you seen these bodies burning?" I asked Kurt.

"I wouldn't tell you anything I haven't witnessed," he replied.

"How can they get away with this?"

"I don't know. After they burn the bodies, they take them to an abandoned house and light it on fire, making it appear that a homeless person burned to death because they broke into an abandoned building looking for warmth. There has to be some higher up corruption if I can figure this out and it keeps happening."

Racism is alive and well. I knew this crap happened back in the 60's, but had no clue it still happens today. I pray that God destroys this building. I pray that some how, some way, these people who are so filled with hate will come around. My human side wants to pray that God will send them to the darkest and hottest parts of hell, along with those who exploit little girls and boys for sexual gratification (aka "art"). That's my human side. My actual prayer is that God will show his love to these people. They are jacked up. They need love.