"When one rules over men in righteousness, when he rules in the fear of God, he is like the light of morning at sunrise on a cloudless morning, like the brightness after rain that brings the grass from the earth." - 2 Samuel 24:3-4, NIV
At 5:50am this morning, the Dwellers and I met at the Griffith Observatory. A community day sunrise hike has been on Alex’s heart for quite some time now, and today it finally came together. Tired as I was from a long night with a 6-month-old and our new “experiment” with her sleep habits, (needless to say, it didn’t resound with success), I was thankful to not be in charge, but to be led. A full and huge orange moon hung low on the horizon in the western sky, and we set out on the mile-and-a-half trek up the peak that is higher than the observatory, higher than the Hollywood sign, and the highest point one can achieve by foot in this city, I’m pretty sure. Nonetheless, it was the highest point I’d ever been.
What an interesting journey it was: we found ourselves amidst an apparent community of regular sunrise hikers, primarily older Asian couples. Some of them just strolling in the early moonlight, some of them engaging in intense exercise, some of them even walking backwards, hand in hand. Though Alex had intended the walk to be silent, he rescinded that as the urge for the Dwellers to talk was brimming over and he also felt that steady conversation might better keep the coyotes away. I mostly listened, posing questions and sharing when appropriate, but I really was struck by how much of a character they have developed amongst themselves. There are moments of eye-rolling that are not hurtful anymore, there are internal jokes that are unifying and not divisive, there are spaces for spiritual and life-choice questioning as well as goofiness and laughter.
Upon reaching the summit and awash in the dawn glow before sunrise, Alex opened in prayer and two stories. One was about an epiphany of Tony Campolo’s, that after “buying” three 12-year-old girls in Haiti who had offered themselves as prostitutes, he surprised them instead by renting Disney movies and ordering room-service ice cream sundaes. Campolo realized that he had not even scratched the surface in changing these girls’ lives. But he was able to rest on the idea that he had, in the midst of a bleak existence, offered a glimpse of surprising hope. Alex linked this to a concept he had acquired from his regular pastor in Peru, that the Kingdom of God on Earth is very much like the light of dawn before the sun arrives. We trust that God is turning the world and that the sun is indeed on the way, but we get to be that ever-strengthening light before the moment of arrival. What a profound lesson to learn, especially in the setting of the very metaphor at play. A great posture to rest on as a young adult volunteer, and as a Christian in general: to recognize that it is God’s business to transform and change the world, but we can certainly encourage people to trust that God is doing and will do just that. We can light the way for people to come to that trust.
What followed was a heartfelt and honest conversation. It is hard to understand what “just a year” living in Hollywood means. But in the early sunlight, we could see that being agents of spreading hope is pretty awesome. We prayed for the kids in the neighborhood who are struggling with the draw towards gangs; we prayed for Curtis’ health and his return to Hollywood after being gone for so long; we prayed for each other and reveled in the struggle of how different each Dweller is, yet how great God is in constantly providing opportunities for fellowship and bonding, even when there is disagreement.
I learned of a new place in my own city this morning. I got to see the Hollywood sign at such an angle that it read: OLLYOO. I learned of a new way to be Christian as well. I thank God for our Dwellers: lights of their own even during their quest to find more and more light. Amen. - Matthew
