Unprepared, by Brady

 Jules: We should have shotguns for this kind of deal.

Vincent: How many up there?
Jules: Three or four.
Vincent: That's countin' our guy?
Jules: Not sure.
Vincent: So that means there could be up to five guys up there?
Jules: It's possible.
Vincent: We should have Bleepin' shotguns.

Most of us remember this scene(slightly edited) from the movie Pulp Fiction- it usually pops into my head at least once a day no matter what I'm doing at work. This short scene could sum up the general experience of anyone who works at a non-profit organization, especially one focusing on homeless services. Not that being a hitman is comparable to homeless services in anyway, but often times we're just so ill-equipped and poorly informed to back up what we're promising our clients, and in this way fail to effectively help them. At least on a basic service level, and by that I mean food, clothing, toiletries, showers, phone, information and directions to emergency shelters, and so on.

Imagine if you worked in a day care and you were told to cheer up all the children with a rusty can full of live centipedes and old stinky cheese, or maybe more believably promising everyone ice cream and then only a quarter of the group gets some. In either situation you might be able to please a few, but definitely not everyone...unless they're like really into centipedes or maybe cheese enthusiasts, in which case by all means roll with it because making do with what you have at the moment is all you can do sometimes. If you run out of shampoo then you're just going to have to hand out soap and towel. If you run out of towels then you're just going to have to stop the showers and wait for more, and get as many showers in after you get more as possible. If you run out of razors you're just going to have to say you ran out and offer something else. So why bother doing something if we can only help some and not all? Why do something if it's not going to be the absolute best? Should we even still attempt to? Does the world really need a bunch of B+ efforts?

In the movie, Jules and Vincent go into the situation despite being ill-equipped and with inaccurate information, and make it out ok. This, however, is only possible by what Jules is convinced is divine intervention. One day at work I was trying to convince a client, who had walked in a few minutes before close, that we had no shoes. He wouldn't have it though, he'd been walking all day and his current shoes(black dress shoes) were ragged and hurting him. First of all, we never have men's shoes where I work and, if we did, what were the odds we'd have his size? Second of all, I just didn't have anything left in me to deal with the disappointment that we both would have when I checked for shoes and came up with nothing. Finally, we were closed, and I was supposed to be going home, every else was booking it like they usually do and I wanted to be among them, not having one last insult to injury as I wasn't able to help another client among countless others this year. So to appease this guy I walked behind the counter to where the clothing and shoes are kept and what to my surprise was there but three massive bags of slightly used New Balance and Asics athletic shoes. Needless to say I was a little embarrassed (or ashamed, or maybe I felt selfish and lazy that I wouldn't even go to the counter and look) for a while, having been so convinced and trying to shoo off my client, and then happening upon bags of shoes. Not only was this guy getting shoes, but nice shoes that were intended to be walked in- a lot. So like Jules and Vincent, me and unknown client went into a situation not knowing the outcome, and then somehow dodged everything the situation could throw at us.

I know God is everywhere, but I really wasn't really aware of his/her presence at work until then. Until someone else, maybe not knowingly, told me to look and I did(reluctantly), and saw. I consider that day my own "divine intervention".

And They'll Know we are Christians by Our......

 “But what about you?” [Jesus] asked. “Who do you say I am?”  Peter answered, “God’s Messiah.” - Luke 9:20, NIV

We're learning something this summer, again: some people don't have a very warm opinion of Christians.


As the hundreds of Discover participants come through Hollywood this summer, they are having countless conversations with people on the streets, people they are serving alongside, and people they are meeting who are on a path towards greater self-sufficiency.  

Discover Participants from Washington and Minnesota

The wonderful women from St. Matthew's in Madison, Mississippi

St. Apollinaris Catholic Church at Hollywood Presbyterian.

Once again, a great group from Walnut Creek Pres!

Each week, we learn of yet another Veteran living homelessly who says something like, "I saw the cross around your neck and immediately got ready to be judged."  

Yesterday, someone asked me why we don't send volunteers to Out Of The Closet, a local thrift store operation raising money for HIV/AIDS prevention and treatment.  I reported that we've tried, but as soon as the store director learned we were a faith-based organization, he said, "no, we can't have church volunteers anymore, I can't put my staff through that again."  

Many times I've noticed the "Jesus, Save Me From Your Followers" bumper stickers and smiled at the painful irony of it.  

Some of our Discover groups are helping a local homeless relief agency by canvassing churches to find out their level of outreach programming for their homeless neighbors.  Many discouraged young people are returning to report that more churches than they'd have imagined are doing nothing, and one associate pastor actually said, "the homeless? We're doing everything we can to get them OUT of our congregation.  We're tired of them."

What are we doing?  Our pastor at Hollywood Presbyterian Church recently asked the congregation, who would we, as Christians, say that Jesus is if he sat down in front of us and asked us directly?  

Who indeed.

As the writer of this blog, I'm not immune to this criticism.  On Election Day, 2008, my wife and I were flying from Pittsburgh back to Burbank.  On a layover in Vegas, we learned that Mr. Obama was clearly on his way to victory.  When we deplaned back in California, we found ourselves and everyone else gravitating to the airport television monitors, listening to Mr. McCain and the man who would become our next President.  

The monitor we found ourselves at was quite a gathering.  Smokey Robinson, Civil-Rights era Motown Legend and his manager, a Persian-American woman, a Latino family, two Mormon missionaries, and my wife and I were some of the faces in this crowd.  But directly next to me was a gay couple, two men in their fifties, arms around one another.  Many people were crying, as were they, but there's were a different kind of tears, more complicated.  You see, that election was also the time when Proposition 8 passed in California, effectively saying that marriage between two men, or two women, would not be recognized.    The lower third of the television screen conveyed this information as Barack Obama talked about the changes that had finally come.  Most of the tears were exuberant and coupled with boisterous, hearty embraces.  (Yes, I stole a hug with Smokey).  But these two men, stood calmly with smiles on their faces, tears streaming down, unblinking.  Something was to be celebrated, another thing was to be mourned.

And I suddenly knew that it was no accident I noticed them.  God was asking me, then, "Matthew, who do you say that I am?"  For God knew how judgmental I'd become towards the gay community.  To be fair, this was not the run-of-the-mill-Christian-Bible-thumping judgmentalism on folks identifying as gay.  My walk with Jesus started from that community at one time, and I myself have a large portion of experience from around, and within, that place.  (But that is a blog for another day.)  Suffice it to say, my stepping into something new, something different, meant that I produced a kind of shield around my "old self."   And, as it would happen, a pervasive judgment amidst my inner thoughts.  Outwardly, this meant I avoided gay people at almost every turn.  

And yet, that evening, watching those quiet tears, I felt overwhelmed with humanity.  Whether or not I agreed with Proposition 8, whether or not I believe that my marriage is, or is not, any more legitimate than anyone else's, I could feel the pain.  Where so much of the United States was celebrating a new clang on the freedom bell and the expansion of possibility, this couple's world got a little harder.  They may have been smiling over Obama's win, but mourning the closing of a door they had been fighting to open, and feeling on the outside of this momentous celebration.  I felt a sudden urge to embrace them, and I did.  I know it was probably more for myself than I'd like to admit, but I felt God moving through me, and I'm grateful beyond measure that God planted them right beside me that evening.

Who is Jesus?  Today, I'm remembering that Jesus was a human being, humbly and completely.  How we treat one another as human beings seems to matter, and I'm thankful for all these young people who keep coming to Hollywood to walk alongside other people, to listen, to share, to serve, to receive, to laugh, to cry together.  It matters.

The Discern team, Crystal, Isaac, Matthew, Erin, Sean, Edzel and Kyle

On Praying Without Ceasing

Discover participant from Knoxville finds quiet.

Our biweekly staff meeting at First Presbyterian Church of Hollywood has become a sort of Sabbath for me, especially during this summer.  It’s a time where we gather together, pray, study, encourage, and plan.  Even when it's somewhat stressful, it still allows me space to rest and pay more attention to God's work in my life.

This week was no exception, and it would appear that God was priming me for an upcoming lesson.  We had read a short story by Wendell Berry called “Pray Without Ceasing,” from his book Fidelity.  Without too much lead-in, this passage that fleshes out the title occurs several days after Thad up and shoots his best friend, Ben, in a moment of rage-filled despair, and directly before a scene of such awesome forgiveness, it actually causes me to tremble:

     "Well, Jackie," she said, lifting and canting her nose to bring her spectacles to bear upon him, "poor Ben has met his time."

     "Yes, mam," Jack said. "One of them things."

     "When your time comes you must go, by the hand of man or the stroke of God."

     "Yes, mam," Jack said. He was standing with his hands behind him, leaning back against the doorjamb.

     "It'll come by surprise," she said.  "It's a time appointed, but we'll not be notified.'

     Jack said he knew it.  He did know it.

     "So we must always be ready," she said. "Pray without ceasing."

     "Yes, mam."

     "Well, God bless Ben Feltner. He was a good man. God rest his soul."

     Jack stepped ahead of her to help her out the door and down the porch steps.

     "Why, thank you, Jackie," she said as she set foot at last on the walk.

    He stood and watched her going away, walking, it seemed to him, a tottering edge between eternity and time.

Not a typical Tuesday in the Sanctuary.

Two days later, during our closing reflection and worship with Christ Covenant Presbyterian from Knoxville, Tennessee, one of our participants, we’ll call her Adrienne, echoed this notion of “praying without ceasing.”  Adrienne marveled that it was possible to “pray about everything.  When we came upon someone living homelessly on the streets,” she said, “we prayed.  When we were deciding what we could do for and with a person, we prayed.   Before, and after, we said goodbye, we prayed.  When we arrived at our agency work-site for the day, we prayed that God might use us well.  Before dinner, we prayed for the hands that prepared the meal.”  Adrienne had only experienced “god” on Sundays, and it would appear that for the first time in her life, she felt God with every step she took last week.  The awestuck wonder in her face as she reflected upon this was as bright as any Gospel message I’ve ever heard.

New friends from Cincinnati at Union Rescue Mission

In the story, had Thad “prayed without ceasing,” maybe he would have felt a critical pause before pulling the trigger on his best friend.  In my life, were I to sincerely be praying without ceasing, I may not have said that very hurtful thing, may not have acted so selfishly, yet again.  Because what strikes me about this idea, is not that we should hide away in a solitary chamber and silently pray forever, out of the context of one another.  Considering, though, that prayer is essentially a dialogue that recognizes the real presence of God, what if we allowed prayer to be the foundation of our thought-lives, even as we go about our daily businesses?  Can we build an increased awareness of the presence of God?  Can we see the face of God all around us, all the time?  Can we feel God's calming hand upon our shoulder before we honk at the, let's face it, idiot who cut us off on the 101?   Of course we will falter and fail at this, but imagine, if you will, what Adrienne’s realization could imply in our everyday lives.  Can we imagine God’s presence when a homeless individual asks us directly for help?  Can we imagine God’s loving arms around us when we lose someone dear?  Can we imagine God’s watch when someone says, “if you just sign here, it’ll all be taken care of.  There’s no morality in business, just good and bad business.”  Can we imagine God’s joyful laughter when we break bread with former enemies and give breath to reconciliation and redemption, like Homeboy Industries does every single day?

I don’t know if I can do that all the time.  In fact, I know that on my own, I’ll probably forget to even try.  But I know how much richer and satisfying life becomes when I remember that God is near, loving me always, without ceasing, ever.

Dweller Kyle, Former Dweller Will, & Discern-er Edzel

Peace, Matthew

For more pictures of Christ Covenant Presbyterian from Knoxville, Tennessee and Northminster Presbyterian from Cincinnati, Ohio in action last week in LA, click here!