Under all these masks...

We invite you to read a beautiful reflection written by Ann Voskamp, an amazingly talented writer and recent CSM participant.


"He never told us his name, that night. It’s the way of the street. Concrete and asphalt and dark don’t require you come with a name, for the streets christen with names of their own. And anyways, names may be forgotten, but not a face like his, never his story, the one these streets lent him.

I’m trailing the youth from our fellowship down Yonge Street, the last of the light seeping out of the autumn gold of the trees. I dig my hands deeper into pockets and warm. The grey chill’s creeping in, up the wet pavement. It’s going to be a long, damp night out here.

A wild mane of graying hair, he’s standing, back to me, in front of the Yonge Street Mission front entrance. It’s him, his tribe, we’ve come to minister to, to be ministered to. Tonight’s not about what too often happens, us getting to where we’re going, walking wide of the crumpled hurt, looking the other way. Tonight’s about the street and its people, their stories. About us each finding Christ in the other. Before I reach the entrance, he steps out in front of me, walks towards our cluster of kids. His buddy stays in the shadows, swigging long out of a 1 litre pop bottle. I feel something inside tighten, twist."

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