I don't hustle, I just turn tricks for money.

he said as he couldn't even bear to make eye contact with me.

If you want to see Jesus, if you want to meet him, in the flesh, go tomorrow night, go to a certain corner in Montrose, and look for the people with the little white name placards on. And meet Jesus.

My friends at Emmaus Ministries are God's hands and feet on earth. They are reaching out to redeem the parts of society that nobody else reaches out to. If you don't want your heart broken, I suggest you skip over this post.

Emmaus Ministries reaches out to male prostitutes in the Montrose area of Houston. These gentlemen (though often hard to tell which sex they are) are referred to as hustlers. Tonight I got to step into the realm of the hustler and just catch a glimpse into his world. I walked the streets tonight with my good friend Dan from Emmaus. We wandered from 1030 until 230, spending some time on busy street corners, and some time at a bar.

The scene is unreal. The first person we encountered was walking alone. Dan said hi and the gent was willing to talk a bit. Dan lovingly asked some questions to show him that he cared for him. The thing that struck me was that every answer was ended with the phrase, "I'm just depressed, I just get depressed." I felt more pain coming from this person than I have ever felt from another human being before.

We arrived at the corner of Stanford and Hyde Park and it is unlike anything I have ever scene before. Dan immediately sees multiple people that he knows.There are plenty of gentleman (dressed as either sex) standing around talking, or walking to and fro. There is also a strong police presence. An undercover car sits at one corner while multiple police patrol the area regularly.

The intersection is out of the way, yet sees more traffic than most at this time of night. I had seen plenty of cars drive by slowly looking around when one came to a complete stop just next to us, and an agitated and frenetic man entered the car. I had seen him walking around and something was definitely not working well in his head. His movements were jerky, almost palsied and he seemed nervous. As he entered the car I got a good look at the driver. He was in his early 30s driving a nice truck, looked fairly clean cut. As I glanced his direction he put his hand to his face and looked the other way.

The car couldn't have been gone more than 5 minutes when I saw the frenetic hustler again on the corner. I also noticed the same truck drive by twice more. I was amazed at how quickly a trick could be tuvrned here. But the sadness continued to grow. I started noticing this older (late 50's) little white man with a white goatee driving by over and over staring at the hustlers. He looked like a philosophy professor. I even saw him try to pick up a hustler directly in front of the undercover police officer.

Then I met Anthony.

He couldn't have been more than 30, and I suppose being on the street makes you look even older. He wanted to sell me his watch (it was a nice watch!) for 15 dollars, needed a place to stay for the night because he heard it was going to rain. He didn't want to turn a trick for the 12 dollars he needed for a bed at a shelter because as he said "I don't hustle, I just turn tricks for money when I have to." He told me his story, how is only relative was his mother, who is in the state pen in Alabama. He said he lost everything in Katrina (he was from new orleans). Without an ID or a relative to vouch for you, you cannot get a birth certificate, Social Card, or a job. He didn't want to be on the street, and surely didn't want to be turning tricks for food.

It just breaks your heart. I have much more to write, but am pooped. I'll do an edit friday.