I am not known for my love of the police. This dates back to a now infamous encounter my senior year at North Park with two of Chicago’s finest WHOM I FLAGGED DOWN one night a few blocks from my apartment. I had left my apartment to catch a cab when a creepy man started propositioning me. The cops stopped and I ran over to their car but instead of getting information on the man or pursuing him, they proceeded to take me into custody for prostitution. (When I told them that I was a student at North Park their response was: “Yeah, we know a lot of girls like you who get through school this way.”) I have perhaps never been so utterly confounded by a situation that was at once so unbelievable and yet so horrifyingly real. After persuading them to take me back to my apartment so that my mom, who was visiting that weekend from Seattle, could vouch for my story, and after offering them a copy of the latest College News with a front page article about my Senior Par Excellance award, they agreed to let me go: “If we don’t catch you again this month your record will be clean,” they informed me.
This one clearly absurd situation would not have been enough to sour me. But the stories my kids from my ministry would tell me made my stomach sick: their stories of beatings, verbal assaults, and manipulation pushed me further, as did my own somewhat regular interactions when I would walk my kids back to their apartments after my drop-in center closed: “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be walking out here. Go back where you belong.”
To this day, if I see a police car I have to fight the urge to cross the street or turn and go the other way.
Moving to L.A., a city notorious for their police force, did not improve my outlook. The first Senior Lead Officer we had stood a foot away from me and told me, point blank, that there had been no homicide on my street that week after I questioned him about the case. I had stood on our front porch just days earlier, it was our first Easter Sunday in L.A., and watched as the investigators worked the crime scene for the man shot and killed in his car a few houses down. But what did I know…
Last night we had our first block club with our new Senior Lead, and while there were disconcerting moments where his answers clashed with what we wanted to hear, I realized half-way through the meeting that this guy was being real with us. He is energetic, he loves his job, and he desires to impact our community for good. And it is his honesty (”I would love to live here if I didn’t have a wife and children”) that, while sometimes painful, is the thing I actually appreciate. Because while there are things I may not want to hear him say (what does that imply about us wives and mothers who DO live here?), his honesty is a step in the right direction.
I have to partly agree with you here. I”ve seen this curroption as well. However, my uncle was a Newark (new jersey) cop for my whole life and it has to be one of the hardest jobs ever. The burn-out rate for inner cities must be high. They see nothing but the most horrible things on this earth day after day. I certainly would have a hard time keeping hope and trust in humanity.
Thanks, Gabrielle. I totally agree wiht you about how difficult the job must be–the men and woman who choose to serve in this way (and the majority are certainly good, brave, and hard-working people who do heroic things for the sake of others) deserve our admiration and thanks. As with anything, the exceptions get all the press
I really enjoy your blog and admire what you are doing. I live on the westside of Chicago and we hear lots of similar stories about run-ins with the police, especially among African American men. Stay encouraged. You are right where God’s heart is.
[...] 1. Stephen Shields has a good post about distinguishing “emergent” and “emerging.” 2. David Crowder with a problem, beside that fancy emergence at the bottom of his face, I’ve never had. 3. Bob Robinson has finished his excellent series on Greg Boyd’s book. Thanks to Bob for leading us through it. Our prayers are with Bob. 4. Very nice article in Christian Century about Jacob’s Well in Kansas City. (HT: Adam Cleaveland.) 5. Marko’s got a nice, thoughtful post on the Achilles’ heel of youth ministries. Drop him a line, asking him if he’s afraid of the upper case letters! 6. John Frye’s got some reports up about his ministry in the Ukraine. 7. Andrew Perriman has revisited the sense of “wrath” in the NT (here Rom 3:21-26) and he contends that it has to be understood historically (against Jerusalem, against Rome/Greece/enemies) and narrativally, rather than simply an ontic reaction to sin against humans as a whole. His site is not all that easy to use, but it is definitely worth looking at. 8. Erika Carney Haub’s story – must read. 9. Margaret Spellings, American czar of education, has a new, good idea: making college easier for families. 10. Do you think the Trinity is to be mirrored in husband-wife relations? Check out Susan Arnold’s post. [...]
That is a great story! I can’t imagine! I don’t have any nearly as interesting stories from my Christian college days!
I’ve been reading you ever since Scot McKnight mentioned you on his blog. You’ve made me laugh - you’ve inspired me - and you’ve moved me to tears! Thanks.
Thanks, Christy. That really means a lot to me to hear that. Your encouragement is a blessing.
Erika
Wow! What a story! I enjoy reading your blog and I’m thrilled that you have a heart for inner-city ministry. It is so needed! I just moved to an apartment in East Dallas (a high crime area if there ever was one) and so these issue is heavy upon my mind.
God be with you in East Dallas, Hannah! I checked out your site and saw that you have just started intensive Hebrew. You have your work cut out for you, but you will be greatly rewarded in the end. I will say a prayer for perseverence for you!
Peace.
[...] I was mixing Aaron’s rice cereal for dinner last night when I heard a commotion in our driveway below. I walked closer to the windows to see who was making the noise and was surprised to spot our Senior Lead Officer coming quickly toward the back of our house. He saw me in the window and shouted out a greeting with his trademark smile. Figuring that there was no immediate danger, I came out onto our back porch as he walked over to the side of our yard that butts up against the backyard of our neighbors. He was trying to figure out if someone could escape from that property into ours. It seems that an individual he had come to see at that property had somehow “disappeared” and he was trying to figure out where their point of exit could have been. [...]
[...] Very quickly an unmarked car pulled up and two guys stepped out and started barking orders and talking in radios. Suddenly a blue light was flashing inside their car, and they ushered me to their back seat. Now, earlier in the day it had probably come up four or five times that I have my set of fears and suspicions concerning the Chicago Police Department. As I crawled into the back seat of some men who I hoped were Chicago cops, I was struck by the irony. [...]