Chronicle of DOOR Hollywood writings from 2008-2015, with testimonies from Directors, Dwellers, local Discern interns, Discover friends, leaders and stories of how God is working in the city of Angels. For more information, visit: www.doornetwork.org
Monday, May 24, 2010
Reunion, Again
Friday, May 7, 2010
Who would Jesus deport?
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Being Led While Leading
Monday, April 12, 2010
Why "Tiny Advantage", by Kenna
Monday, April 5, 2010
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
Monday, March 29, 2010
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


