Being Led While Leading

7:57 am in the Skid Row area of downtown Los Angeles.

"My counsel is this: Live freely, animated and motivated by God's Spirit!" - Galatians 5:16, The Message

In my time as Hollywood city director, we had yet to welcome a weekend group to Hollywood until a small, 6-person team from Kingsburg ventured down from California's Central Valley this past Friday night. And technically, by DOOR Discover group standards, this wouldn't even qualify as a traditional weekend group, because they were only to stay for one night instead of two. During planning, I decided to ask some basic questions about what the group was seeking and prayerfully shape their experience around the answers I got back, as we had no actual protocol for how this should look.

The leader mentioned that they wanted to really spend time in fellowship and care for homeless individuals, and if we could find a service project that allowed for that, that would be best. During a typical workweek, no problem, that's what we're all about here in Hollywood. But in the few weeks leading up, I learned that it's actually quite tough to schedule with agencies on Saturdays. Either they are closed, or, they have been booked for months ahead of time. Ironic in a good way: that in a town known for it's exclusivity and red-carpet, velvet rope, A-list events with scores of people vying to get in, there are homeless shelters and related agencies that get so much interest from potential volunteers, they also have to turn many requests away. One way the face of God is revealed here in LA, amen!

But after digging around a bit, no pun intended, we found that a local homeless shelter had been wanting to join volunteers and residents in the kick-off of a community vegetable garden. And, in fact, our phone call helped to crystallize the event into actually happening. So that was set, and then the leader asked, two days before their arrival, if they might be able to sleep on Skid Row the night before. While I wouldn't send volunteers to sleep on the sidewalks, as they can be a very volatile place throughout the night, I had heard that one of the downtown missions in the heart of Skid Row allowed people to sleep on their roof while they were free to spend as much time as possible both with people congregating near the building and folks sheltering inside. Sounded like a good idea, though I had little awareness about how to prepare the group for exactly what to expect.

And that's where the title of this blog applies: for the first time in awhile, I actually felt more led than leading. The animated spirit of this group, the exuberance to gently meet with people and share God's love, in spirit more than in words, was infectious. Though I was stressed upon meeting them down in Skid Row, because it seemed like things might fall apart on account of misunderstandings or miscommunication on my part in the last-minute planning, turned into something quite peaceful, calm, and lovely. After eating dinner, praying, and talking some about our conceptions of the homeless versus the reality, we found out there was a young girl's birthday party going on, and they'd love to have some help celebrating and playing games with all the kids in the shelter. What an outpouring of the joy of God's spirit.

The next morning, over breakfast, I learned a little about the group, some elements of their youth and what they do for fun, and some elements of the deep and difficult challenges they've been through. And, in listening, I learned even more things about my own city. Apparently, there is a functioning Christian radio station in LA, (I had given up after years of fruitless searches). They taught me that, along with helping me to learn of other options for volunteers in the future, just because they were willing to serve, felt God calling them to act boldly and uncomfortably, and they asked the questions to make that happen.

Living freely. Living animatedly. Living for Jesus. The powerful blessing of that reminder. Amen.

Matthew

Click on any photo to see more:

Why "Tiny Advantage", by Kenna

Today I was playing basketball with one of the boys who came over to hangout. We were playing a fun game of him trying to make baskets as I was running after him trying to steal the ball. As we were playing, Wendy, one of my roommates, came running by and got the ball just as he was about to shoot it and stated, “I got the height advantage”. Soon after, the ball got knocked and Wendy and him went running for it and he proclaimed, “I got the speed advantage” as he got to the ball before Wendy. As we were playing, he was coming up with all different kinds of “advantages” that he had and the one he was most proud of was his “tiny advantage”. Later on that night I was reflecting on the day and that phrase, “tiny advantage” kept coming to mind. In a game of basketball, having the tiny advantage helps to get in the tight places and steal the ball almost unnoticed. Living where the community house is on Gregory Street, is also a “tiny advantage”. The community house to the neighborhood is a place for the kids to go and feel safe. It's a place where there are people who are interested in talking with you and playing games. It's a space to run around and you don’t have to be quiet. It's a place that older kids can go to and hang out without being questioned by the police. The community house is a place that the neighborhood comes together for holidays and parties. It is a place to connect. By being a dweller and being associated with the community house I have the “tiny advantage” of trust. By fostering this trust and showing that I am worthy of it, I am able to build connections and friendships with the kids and the neighbors and for this I am blessed.

To hear more from Kenna throughout her year of service, visit her blog, "Tiny Advantage," at www.kennakoch.blogspot.com

Death into Light

“Here's another way to put it: You're here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We're going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don't think I'm going to hide you under a bucket, do you?” – Matthew 5:14-16, The Message

On Saturday, or some would say Holy Saturday, I came upon a History Channel presentation on the supposed “real” face of Jesus. To be fair, they never claimed full accuracy, but the hour-long show featured the physicists, chemists, and other scientists using cutting-edge technology to 3-dimensionalize the image on the shroud of Turin and other alleged cloths used to wrap his body. What struck me most was not the “final” image, though it was indeed profound and poignantly beautiful. Rather, on this quest and throughout the program, they repeatedly displayed holographic images of Christ’s body in the tomb, complete with all the markings of torture and crucifixion. Holy Saturday has always troubled me with this strange emptiness. The idea that for a day in history, God (or I should technically say, a third of the trinity) was dead. Dead. Knowing that he would rise the next day always got me off the hook from actually accepting his death. Like, he was just “playing dead.”

But the images of a body in a tomb, whether it’s authentic to how it truly looked or not, finally hit home in my soul. There he was, wrapped in bloody cloths, lifeless and cold. I felt it: the pain, the emptiness, and the tragedy like I never had before. And all this from a History Channel show! What’s more, to see these scientists feel similar gravity along their journey was really incredible. After accounting for the fabric’s stretch and distortion from 2D to 3D, pointing out that the shroud is stained in a way that suggests light burned it from within (how cool is that?!, kind of literalizing Matthew 5:15), and matching blood stains to corresponding wounds, one scientist took the image in and held back tears, “it looks like a body after an horrific car accident.” He had to cut the taping of his segment short, overwhelmed with emotion.

Here’s what I trust: when you look for the face of God, you find it. Maybe not the literal image of God, but you find God’s countenance looking at you with love, grace, encouragement, and conviction. You find that God is indeed, facing you.

5846 Gregory is a wonderful and challenging place. It was built by various professionals and volunteers throughout the years, so there is not a sense of unifying design by most construction standards. What it lacks for in overall structural integrity (there are some light switches in the oddest of places, light fixtures that are really finicky, floorboards that are beginning to bend and bow), it makes up for in spiritual strength. On Thursday night, Alex, Will, Kenna, and I played games with neighborhood kids whose families hail from Mexico, El Salvador, Honduras, Dominican Republic, Guatemala. Shila, a PATH intern from Denmark, joined us, so it was literally an international gathering. For too long that evening, I got lost in fretting details like, “oh, we really need to repaint some of the windows; and, we need to get some help fixing the toilets, sinks, and lights….” But the laughter from the kids reminded me that the house is still alive, even in it’s less-than-glorious state. It’s a light in the neighborhood. It’s not a pot of gold, it’s not the answer to everything that plagues Hollywood, it’s not the Savior. But it’s an un-shrouded light, a place of loud fun, a place of basketball and soccer and card-games and gardening, a place of sweaty and dirty hope.

If scientists are discovering that Jesus’ cold and lifeless body miraculously leapt out of death in a blaze of light, then surely this little house with it’s many issues can still be transformed into a loving and nurturing place, even for the brief collection of moments our Dwellers are here every year. And surely we can see God’s face alive and well in that scene, this collective and growing body of servants, and that the searing light of new life is still shining and glowing.

Curtis comes back today. The community has been hurting without him, and is somewhat anxious about what it will mean when he comes back after such a long absence. I am hopeful that God can use it to teach us, stretch us, and help us eke out even more light upon each other and our neighbors. That’s what this Easter brought to me. Death is not the end of the story.

Matthew

Sunrise

"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

Wherever You Go

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go. - Joshua 1:9, NIV

Performing some yard work at the Alegria House.

Sometimes, God surprises me. I did not expect to be the recipient of such ministry and grace by the two groups that were here, and yet, that's indeed what happened. College students from Tucson came to serve in agencies throughout LA and a team from Spring Arbor University in Michigan donated their time and talents to helping create a film about how God is alive and well here in Hollywood. The hope and prayer is that it will encourage others to come along and see.

God truly met me through these groups. In the relationships they built with the Dwellers, with the neighborhood kids and families, with the volunteer coordinators at our various agencies, with homeless clients they sat down and had lunch with.... Many things threatened to damage the week, (primarily my own attitude and anxiety), and yet, God turned it all around and caused one of the most amazing weeks of synthesis between Discover and Dwell through the tireless work of the film crew. I find myself wishing they could come along every time! While I do know it is ultimately God who made this happen, thankful am I to learn of all these new willing and joyful servants of the Lord. I am certainly less discouraged, and trust, ever more so, that God is with me, and with us, wherever we go.

For more photos and more information about getting involved, click on any of the photos below:

Many blessings!

Matthew

P.S. Follow up to the previous blog "Turning the Other Cheek" (see below) : as God would have it, I bumped into the young man again who had chased me into my garage last week. I got to witness him shaking my baby girl's hand, just 5 days after my first complicated encounter with him. I got to learn a bit more about his life, too. God is truly amazing. I'm getting choked up just typing this.

P.P.S. Please keep our Dweller, Curtis, in your prayers. He's back home in Mississippi tending to his health, and may not be back for a few more weeks. We all miss him.

The film team interviews Sally Evans, Volunteer Coordinator at PATH.

Sharing an Emma-cooked-meal with neighborhood kids and Dwellers.

Human beings talking to other human beings....

Turning the Other Cheek: An Exercise in Fear and Joy

"But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. If someone strikes you on one cheek, turn to him the other also. If someone takes your cloak, do not stop him from taking your tunic. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you." - Luke 6:27-31, NIV

So, I tell you the truth: this verse has always irked me, troubled me, bothered me, even angered me. I get it, it sounds nice, but is it really true? Is it, at all, based in reality? I remember middle school, where the kid who had been taunting me and my 8th grade friendlessness, said that all the other kids avoided me because they thought I was gay. Adding injury to insult, he attacked me one morning at my locker, shoving me from behind so my head hit the edge of the metal. I thought, "don't fight back, turn the other cheek." That ended miserably, as he continued to pummel me to the ground, and the other kids looked on. If this is what you mean, God, I thought, no thank you.

And recently, after reading Shane Claiborne's Irresistible Revolution with our Dwellers, I've picked up his second book, Jesus For President. Again, I tell you the truth: I am not enjoying this book. I am finding myself too rocked by what he says, agreeing with so much. But in my agreement, I am feeling alone and paralyzed by not knowing how to act accordingly. However, he brings up a different perspective on "turning the other cheek" than I had ever heard in Catechism or Sunday School. Basically, turning the other cheek forces the perpetrator to recognize that you are a human being. "By turning the other cheek, the person made the abuser look them in the eye, and the other person said, 'I am a human being, made in the image of God, and you cannot destroy that.' Do not cower and do not punch back. Make sure the person looks into your eyes and sees your sacred humanity, and it will become increasingly harder for that person to hurt you." (Jesus For President, Claiborne, pgs 92-93.)

Last night, I learned this to be true, and even more glorious and miraculous than Claiborne suggests.

I leave my work volunteering with the Dwellers' afternoon neighborhood tutoring program and make it home around 9:30pm, almost. It's dark. I had just gotten off the phone with my wife and had had a small argument about our 5-month-old daughter. I am flustered, but eager to get inside. As I pull into the shared driveway of our townhome complex, I see a young couple standing at the threshold of the sidewalk, street, and driveway. They have a baby stroller with them, God would make sure I notice.

I pull into our garage, and as I step out of the car, can hear them screaming at one another: "Fine! Go off with your hommes, your cars, play your stupid games! See what I care!" I walk around to where I can see them, feeling an urge to show love and see if they are okay. I notice the man respond to another neighbor, presumably shouting down at him, by angrily answering back, "Shut the (expletives removed and softened throughout this re-telling) up, or I'm going to come up there and mess you up!"

And then, he notices me. Without taking a breath, he starts running towards me, shouting, "you want to mess with me! You don't know me!" Running directly at me, fast. Then, I see him slam his hand into his coat and pull something out, something that catches the light and shines. Without thought, I turn and start running to my still-open garage. I just panic and flee. Before I can make it to the button to shut the door, he is inside the garage with me, already, and raging.

"I should (f) you up! I'm from the barrio! I should take you out right now!"

"Look," I plead, "I just wanted to see if you two were okay. I meant you no harm."

He looks like he might smash in the window of my car. Looking me straight in the eyes with fire, he takes a breath, and he backs off a bit. He's not listening to anything I say, and interrupts me, looking around, "what unit is this?" He finds our unit number on the edge of the door. "I'm gonna come back. I know where you live. You shouldn't have messed with me."

I'm able to shut the garage door, now, so I do. My heart beating in every joint, even my nostrils, painfully. But as the door is closing, God grants me the ability to notice two things: there is a clear look of fear and shame in his face. And what I had thought to be a gun, I see now, is actually something like a crumpled-up soda can.

I walk upstairs. My wife has heard the commotion, our baby is upstairs sleeping. She is obviously concerned. We wonder if we should call the police, to which I decide would a bad idea because he'll know it was me, and he knows where we live.

But then, something calming comes over me. I recognize that I will not be able to rest peacefully in fear of what he may or may not do. I keep seeing his face, his rage, his anger, and maybe, just maybe, even a hint of his pain. I suddenly become resolved that I must go out and face him again. Should I take anything to defend myself? No, something tells me, that could look threatening and cause a backfire. My wife is, again, obviously concerned, but allows me to go. In a very tangible way, I think I feel God urging me on. Maybe it's connected to my need to protect our family, our daughter, I don't know. I just know I have no choice but to go back outside and find him.

And here is the space for miracle. Here is the truth of God's word in action, in stark reality. Here is Jesus backing up what he preached so fervently on the Mount:

As I walk towards the couple, the man notices me again, and his entire body language slowly starts to shrink. He turns and crumples. I feel God pushing me forward, strengthening my every step. Before I can even say a word, he says, "man, I'm really sorry. I am really, really sorry." And then, he reaches out to shake my hand.

I learn they have a 2-month-old. I tell them I have a 5-month-old. I ask if I can pray for him. He says, "just pray that it'll all work out." I say I will. The woman is clearly ashamed and won't look at me, so I decide not to ask to see the baby. I do ask them if they live nearby. He says he actually lives in these townhomes too, he just moved in.

I say goodnight. I thank God. I weep gently and quietly as I walk away. I hear the echo of the end of these verses: Do to others as you would have them do to you. I sincerely feel that if my wife and I were arguing like that, I would long for someone to step in with love and compassion. (In fact, I confess that we've had fights recently, and I truly wish someone would have done just that!) I pray and suddenly notice, finally, that I understand why Jesus asks us to turn the other cheek. I had been praying for this to make sense to me for quite some time, and though I never would've asked for it to come in just this way, I understand why it did. I went out to show him that he had just messed with a real-live human being, and to ask him to drop his threats. It never even came to that, because just "turning" to face him again gave him the opportunity to act like a human being as well. Building on what Claiborne says, exposing our humanity, in faith, can make it possible for others to do so as well.

People ask me all the time if it's safe to come to Hollywood. I wonder what they are looking for me to say. I have family who live in Littleton, Colorado; cousins who attended Columbine High School. By the looks of it, I'd guess that Littleton would appear to be "safe." The neighborhood our Dwellers live in is decorated in ample tagging, some of it even on their house. By the looks of it, I'd guess people might see this neighborhood as "less safe." But, my answer, now, is that this world is a dangerous and broken place. Period. Desperation leads to desperate and risky acts. Loneliness and feeling alone cause us to do some crazy things for attention. I believe that can happen anywhere. Even in my very garage last night.

So should we focus on being safe? Should we focus on being preemptive or retaliatory? Or, and by that I mean a hefty or, should we focus on being bold in love, and trust our safety to a God who promises to save us, a God who already has? I'm not sharing this story to promote myself as a hero in any way. In fact, much the opposite, as I felt like the biggest coward running away from a man armed with a Coke can and his own embarrassment. Nor would I advocate walking into a potential hornet's nest just because you should be bold for boldness' sake alone. But I can say this: if the feeling of God's protection is strong inside you in a given situation, and the feeling of God's urging you to enter the conflict exists, go forth. Go forth in faith. For I truly share this to celebrate that God's word is indeed good, and true, and inspiring, and emboldening. It was not my strength last night. It was the strength of the one who has saved me and aches for me to trust in that. Even died for me to trust in that. God has got your back. God will have your back.

I pray for that young family. I pray that they do not succumb to the anxiety and stress involved in young parenthood, but rather, find ways to come together despite it. If it be God's will, I pray to cross paths with them soon again. I'd like to know them.

How to end this blog, other than by continuing in the path of working to build community, instead of divide it, with our every act. The Dwellers relaunched the neighborhood garden last Sunday. Despite rain and thunder the group that had gathered transformed the space. So I will close this blog with photos of that work day to metaphorically remind us, well, mostly myself, of the lovely lesson that even under the darkest and loudest storm clouds, our God provides, our God encourages, and our God wants us to grow, together.

May Christ be with you in every way,

Matthew

to learn more about getting involved, click on any photo below:

Emotional Kaleidoscope, by Wendy

This week's blog entry comes from Dweller Wendy, (pictured below on the left, with City Director Matthew and fellow Dweller Kenna), who's complete blog can be found athttp://roadsidetamales.blogspot.com/

I have a definite case of the warm and fuzzies and yet all I want to do at the moment is curl up and cry. I am overjoyed and overwhelmed and so confused by the sudden and intense alternating highs and lows here.

The week is over, the weekend has arrived, and as I suddently have the time to stop about what has happened in the past two weeks (last weekend I didn't have a chance to stop and breathe) all the emotions are crashing upon me simultaneously.

First and foremost, our house has felt the pain of another family loss. Kenna is back in Arizona for over a week and we have all felt the grief and the love that spills from her heart this week.

We have come together in prayer as a household to lift her up and her family - which is a joy because in the midst of this tragedy, our house feels more like a home than it has so far . . . I don't know how I feel in the midst of all of it. I am dismayed by the intensity of my own sense of loss.

This past weekend we went as a house to a seminar as a house, one on the Song of Solomon. Granted, none of us are getting ready to enter into a marital relationship, but this was another chance for us to all worship together, of which we have taken very few. This also was a joy, and we spent the day with Matthew and Darcie and Charlotte as well - it was so incredible to hear their take as well!

On outreach on Wednesday we dealt with one of our problem clients - I say problem client not because he is so bad in himself, but when we first brought him in there was some miscommunication and he did not have a TB test. Before we even got a chance to get it taken care of, he ended up back in Cedars Sinai hospital. On Monday he was discharged, but the bed that we had for him was no longer available - and nobody was working because it was President's Day . . . so we had to tell him that we couldn't still take him in.

This Wednesday I played cello in the Ash Wednesday service - which came off quite nicely, but required a good amount of preparation . . .

. . . and on Wednesday I left work at 9am to spend the day with Kenna up until her flight home. The service was quite emotional for me.

Afterward I recorded some things (don't tell Dad (: It's a surprise . . . actually I think I told him last night).

Thursday . . . was a long day. And then came today. Today we did data entry at the office until around 2pm and then took one of our clients who finally moving into his own home grocery shopping and then to his apartment. The furniture is set up already and he has all of his linens and his pots and pans . . . I am soo soo happy to see this finally happening. It has been almost 5 months since he finally agreed to come into shelter. It has been over a year since he began the process of getting a section 8 apartment. This is his first home as I understand it in 13 years. He is 68 and in so many ways reminds me of my own dad. It will be weird not seeing him around the shelter. My only hope is that he finds a way and a reason to stay active.

And then when we got back to the shelter, there were the girl scout cookies that I ordered *finally*

I am just so tired after all of it. I don't really want to take a nap, but I don't particularly want to stay up either.

My time here has been amazing beyond all of my expectations and I have no doubt that it will take me years to understand all of the things that I have seen here so far. As I was riding my bike home tonight, I couldn't help but think back to the first Tuesday here, I think it was our second day overall? When the tamale man raised his voice in our alleyway, that is when I realized that this place really was different from Kansas.

On the way home there is always a fruit vendor with mangoes and strawberries on the street corner by a couple of schools and along the streets there is always someone selling chips and ice cream from a push cart and in the large white box trucks that seem to live in our neighborhood there is always fresh produce.

Sometimes I forget that this place isn't the one that I grew up in. It is so easy to become accustomed to the sights and sounds around us and almost become comfortable. This week there have been reminders of the discomforts in this neighborhood as well. I have about three posts worth of things in my mind that could use sharing.

Truly this neighborhood is ministering to us as much as we are to it, if not infinitely more. I have so much to learn here, if I remember half of it, it will all have been worth it.