Your Soul Crawls Out from its Hiding Place, by Erin

Erin, center, with the 2011 DOOR Staff

Zora Neale Hurston wrote, "Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place."

I think that is a beautiful sentiment that fitfully encompasses the time I had and the moments I witnessed while working at DOOR.

It was during DOOR that I saw beautiful people flourish, amid both living out actions and sharing their stories of struggles-- with homelessness, gangs, past struggles, sins, and lifestyles-- either on the Homeless Panel, as missionaries, or as part of our camp/missionary Discern staff.  This kind of openness and accepting community was a beautiful thing to see, and exactly what I--and others--needed this summer.

This open love and community was shown everywhere from Skid Row to inside the church sanctuary; from Union Rescue Mission food lines to La Casa de la Comunidad’s garden. It was expressed through storytelling, through serving food (and sorting food, for hours), and through hugs.  The joy and friendship was displayed through crazy photographs, through hands and hearts lifted in worship, through playing with local children, to sharing burdens of the soul and mind.

And as I saw friendships grow, dignity re-aligned with the soul, wounds of the heart and body healed, and compassion winning over judgment and apathy--I saw the face of God in this city, in these people, in these hearts. It was a taste of the banquet we will have in His Kingdom one day, a bit of the friendship His Spirit brought to us here in our earthly city, and it was a wonderful fun time.    

-Erin was part of the Discern Hollywood team this past summer, guiding our Discover teams throughout the summer.  Erin will be joining the Dwell team at DOOR Chicago in September as a Young Adult Volunteer.

A Macarena Dance-Off with Donald Duck

Making new friends in Los Angeles

I didn't take on their way of life. I kept my bearings in Christ—but I entered their world and tried to experience things from their point of view. I've become just about every sort of servant there is in my attempts to lead those I meet into a God-saved life. I did all this because of the Message. I didn't just want to talk about it; I wanted to be in on it!  - 1 Corinthians 9:22-23, The Message

Only in Hollywood, and perhaps only in front of the Chinese theater, would you hear this: “we had a Macarena dance-off with Donald Duck and SpongeBob got mad at us.”  The context was this: some of our Discover participants were challenged to become resourceful one evening, and this was the outcome of one of their solutions.

Over the course of this year, we’ve had over 400 youth and adults come to Los Angeles and serve and learn throughout our city.  This week alone, we have more than 60 folks from Sunnyvale, San Marcos, and Poway, California.  In numbers, this means that somewhere around 16,000 hours were spent in outreach and relationship building and probably an equal amount in reflection and prayer.  Here.  And I’m not even a person who is moved by numbers, but when I think of that collective, it gives me significant pause. 

But even more so, are the slowly learned lessons, and the one most prevalent on my heart today is this: homelessness is not a role, it’s a circumstance.  In other words, there’s not a “homeless” personality despite all our memories of characters in movies like Home Alone 2, The Family Man, or others; but rather a phenomenon of factors that open the door for homelessness to happen.  Yes, there are poor choices; yes, there are personality flaws; but yes, there are real compounding situations that push a person, no matter how resistant they are, into a time of living without stable shelter.  It ultimately becomes overwhelming.  Like “drowning,” a friend who’s experienced it has told me many times.

Reverend K.C. Wahe shares his testimony.

So when we get asked, as DOOR, “are we doing something wrong if the kids respond to some of our challenges by ‘playing homeless’?”  I come back to this: homeless is not a role.  It’s a circumstance.  The stereotypical images and adjectives that we conjure of “the homeless” are actually the effects of the situation and the diverse resourcefulness of those living it.  The signs, the picking up recyclable materials, the locking oneself in a Starbucks bathroom for 5 hot minutes to try to get a handle on the musty smell of showerlessness.  When I see our participants making signs to solve the challenges we put upon them, I see them doing what they think will work best in the time allotted.  Most of the folks I know who’ve experienced homelessness explain their awakening into the notion that they were actually homeless in the same way.  “I don’t know how to do this, but I see those people trying that, so maybe that’ll work for me too.”

Homelessness is not a personality type, it’s a convergence of situations and choices.  I believe there is value in walking in another’s shoes.  I believe we have a good role model in our own God, becoming fully human and fully experiencing the challenges of humanity.   Our “fallen-ness” is, in essence, another convergence of choices and situations.  And through Jesus, I believe that God shifted the core of who we all are from “the fallen” to “the beloved children who’ve lost their way and need a shepherd to come along side us, walk us back to the pasture in which we were always intended to reside.”

Jesus turned the “them” of us, the fallen creation, into the “we” of the Kingdom, a community between Creator and Creation.

What if we could dissolve the “us” and “them” in the arena of homelessness, too?  Could we have more dance-offs with Donald Duck, could SpongeBob find himself at the same table as Superman?  Could we break bread together after you allow me to take a shower, give me clothes, throw out my urine-soaked ones, and share stories of the heart-ache and joys of both of our lives?   Could I allow you to help me, even if you’re the one sitting on the side of the road asking for money, but I’m the one who, right now, feels more lost?  

Reverend K.C. Wahe, head pastor of  Community Presbyterian Church of Littlerock, CA and father of Discerner, Kyle, came by during our closing worship to open up his testimony to our friends from out of town, focusing on this verse: Just as a nursing mother cares for her children, so we cared for you. Because we loved you so much, we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well. - 1 Thessalonians 2:7-9 NIV  His challenge to everyone was this: would we be willing to love someone so much that they were compelled to fall in love with Jesus?  That was his story, set primarily in the very room he shared this sermon with us.  Despite some incredible odds stacked up against him, it was people from Hollywood Presbyterian Church sharing their lives with him, walking alongside him, loving him when nobody else seemed able to do it, that really mattered and changed his life.  

Community.  Walking in each other's shoes.  So that God's Kingdom might grow.  So that lives might be saved.  

Good night, and God Bless you all.

Matthew

Celebrating stories of reconciliation at Homeboy Industries

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!

The New Normal, by Dweller Alayna

Discover Participants with DOOR Staff, Edzel, serve together.

Life has become pretty “normal” here. When people ask me how things are going, all I can think to say is “good.” I have nothing new or profound to say. I am no longer overwhelmed by the big city, and I’ve grown accustomed to work that was once beyond what I ever imagined doing. It’s just…regular. Normal.

But when I stop to ponder what “normal” is to me now, I smile.

Normal is tending to our beautiful, blooming community garden–pulling weeds in the cool of the evening, greeting the neighbors who walk by.

Normal is telling my housemate I’m going to water the garden and having a little girl’s face immediately pop out of the a second-story window next door – “You’re watering now? Can I help?!”

Normal is driving through the streets of Glendale, searching for our homeless friends in back alleys and parks.

Normal is getting texts like these from our high schoolers: ”Hey, are you guys open now?” “What’s up” ”When are you getting back?” Most of the time they just show up and yell for us to let them in.

Outreach making a first contact with a homeless person

Normal is giving the woman next door a ride to the store so she doesn’t have to haul groceries on the bus. She, in turn, takes care of us by sending over tamales or using the tomatoes from our garden to make us salsa.

Normal is staying late at the shelter to read a book with the sweetest little homeless boy.

Normal is biking or walking a mile towards the Hollywood sign every morning to catch my bus.

Normal is a Saturday night spent playing an impromptu game of 3-on-3 with our high school boys then sitting on the porch hanging out till their parents call them home.

Normal is running into one of our teenage girls as I walk home from work, listening as she tells me about her latest boyfriend troubles, feeling honored when she asks for my advice.

Normal is hosting the most diverse dinners and cookouts and parties I could imagine; businessmen and women, homeless people, Hollywood hopefuls, neighborhood kids with their Spanish-speaking parents–all coming together in our backyard. I imagine God smiling as He looks down on those gatherings.

Sure, life is normal. But normal is pretty awesome.

-Alayna, a current Dweller, living in intentional Christian Community with 5 others, plus an entire neighborhood.

The Word.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning.  Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.  John 1:1-5, NIV

Click here for more photos from the week.

An amazing Discover group from Abiding Hope Lutheran church in Littleton, Colorado joined DOOR Hollywood this week.  One of the main themes was paying attention to the words we use to describe ourselves, to describe others.  It got me thinking about words, and I started pondering the many words and phrases I heard, or read, throughout the week.  Our prayers are with you as you return, Abiding Hope.  Come back someday soon:

….Uuh. “Those” people.  Albert.  Compassion into action.  Dehumanize.  Two hours on the street.  That quick.  Snap.  Identity.  Theft.  La Casa.  What do I deserve?  Arroz con Leche.  Jesus.  Yes Man.  MEND.  Losing our house.  Engine death.  Toni.  Sleep on sidewalk.  See.  7,500 hours of work.  Unified.  More life and soul.  The wrong idea.  Monkey on the ground.  In a van.  73. Broken spirit.  Too spicy Mommy. Security footage.  Organized!  Tapatio.  But.  I.  Love.  You.  A little paranoid.  Downsizing.  Happy Birthday!  The one we were waiting for.  Mobile shower.  GettLove.  College degree.  One eye open.  Greater things.  The face.  Everyone kind of pushes past one another.  Us.  Gwen.  Looked at us weird.  Pluto.  Rode the bus all night long.  Bless. Hairnets? Boxes.  Boxes, boxes, boxes.  Ryan Reynolds.  Really big.  Of God.  Entitlement.  Surprises happen.  Sticky hands.  Angel Food.  Y’all.  How to react.  PATH.  A little crazy.  Carolyna.   Our new friends.  Hand the keys over.  The planet that shall not be named.  Them.  Rejection was very difficult.  Gated homes in gated neighborhoods.  Waits for six clicks.  In the city.  Multitudinous.  Door of Hope.  Freeze!  Swoon.  Pollo Tostadas.  Gentrification.  He’s gonna take my shoes.  Green Lantern.   Broken arm.  Brought it upon yourself?  99.9% similar DNA.  See myself in you.  Bankrupt.  Compound.  Broken back.  Kickline.  If I falter, if I fade.  Now, God is something I can’t stop thinking about. 


Someone I can't stop thinking about.