by Travis Mateer
I drove by the shape on the sidewalk and had to do a double-take. Was that a bare ass exposed for all to see? I parked by my art studio and went to assess the shape I suspected (correctly) was the homeless man I interviewed last Christmas Eve, Glen Harley Stephens.
Harley was snoring, which meant he wasn’t dead. He was also contorted awkwardly on the concrete sidewalk with his shit-smeared ass pointing toward the Missoula County Courthouse.
Sunday mornings in downtown Missoula often feature visceral exhibits of alcohol abuse, like pools of vomit, scattered trash, and blood spatter. I documented the latter bodily fluid a few months ago outside the ZACC, check it out:
To contrast this clear evidence of spiritual malaise, I sought God in the physical structures he’s supposed to exist in over the weekend. What did I find?
I had assumed the search I was embarking on was for myself, but the more I immerse myself in the institutions of faith, the more I’m realizing who some of these churches are there for, and who they are NOT there for.
I’ve now attended several different church services around town and will soon write a longer piece on the revelations I am having regarding the forgiveness industrial complex and who benefits from hiding behind God’s shield.
So stay tuned, and remember: God works in mysterious ways!