There is a common misconception that Los Angeles, Hollywood in particular, is not a religious place, void of any 'spirituality.' Nothing could be further from the truth. 'Spirituality' is a slippery term that can mean a million things to a million people, but for the sake of this entry I'll define it as "man's quest to satisfy the God-shaped hole with some type of religious practice." We all have that God-shaped hole within us, a result of the Fall and our alienation from God because of our fallen nature. What we do to fill that hole...well, that is the penultimate question.
Hollywood is a place where people are disposable. People come to Los Angeles to chase their dreams and so many are chewed up, spit out and discarded like so much human refuse. There is a tangible sense of emptiness, loneliness and despair in Hollywood. Beneath the lights and apparent glamor is this emptiness that comes from chasing the wind. Meaninglessness.
Like Solomon, who spent a good portion of his life 'chasing the wind,' most people eventually come to some conclusions: One, there has to be something more. Two, there has to be something, or someone who can bring meaning and order to life-and for many, that realization is in part fueled by a desire to be successful. People who come to Hollywood to 'make it' soon find out it's much more difficult than they imagined. The industry is a harsh, unforgiving machine that cares little for the individual other than what it can extract or take.
So there are a lot of people searching for answers. A part of our trip as we sought to understand Los Angles before immersing ourselves among the least of these was to understand the spiritual forces that influence the city-and there are many. Like Athens in Acts 17, Los Angeles is a city of many 'gods'-and people will turn to anything or anyone that offers some kind of construct for meaning.
Last year we visited the Scientology Celebrity Centre as well as the "Self Realization Temple." This year we returned to the Scientology Centre as well as the largest Buddhist Temple in the US. I'll talk about the Buddhist Temple in the next entry. For now, Scientology...
Scientology may seem foreign or on the fringes to people living outside of California, Los Angeles specifically, but they are a very visible and powerful influence in the "City of Angels"-especially in the concentrated areas of power, namely Hollywood.
I don't have time to get into the theology of Scientology. It is quite complex and so foreign it would take a book to go over the tenets, practices and beliefs. I will focus instead on the impressions from the center.
We pulled into the facility knowing we were under observation. The Scientology Centre is rather wary, if I can use that word, of outsiders who come to their facility. They knew up front that we were a student group coming to learn about Scientology and what they believed. To say that our point person, Jenny, was a little suspicious would be an understatement. If we had arrived as a group "seeking answers" we would have been welcomed and aggressively 'evangelized.'
As my vehicle entered the lot my phone rang. It was Jenny. She said, "I see you are here, come on up to the Garden and cafe area." These kind of phone calls are a bit unnerving. We knew prior to coming (from our last visit) that there are cameras throughout the building and that we would be monitored and our tour would be tightly managed. We would see and hear what they wanted us to see and hear.
We spent 2 hours at the center. Several things particularly struck me: The first perhaps being that I can understand how someone who is at the end of their rope, or desperately looking for answers, would find Scientology appealing. They have a plan for EVERYTHING. The religion is very much a "do it yourself" kind of religion, where you, by learning, by growing as a student of Scientology, can become the master of your own destiny. It promises answers to everything and 'technology' to help you achieve whatever your dreams and goals are. It promises a full and exciting and whole life...no obstacle too big, no problem too large, everything can be overcome by applying the teachings of L.Ron Hubbard.
Christianity promises infinitely more for both this life and the life to come, but the promises are the exact opposite of Scientology. Contrasting the Beatitudes and the Sermon on the Mount with the teachings of Scientology is a the difference between night and day. Scientology says: "You can do this on your own and with our help you will achieve your dreams and goals." Christianity says, "You can't do this on your own-you need a Savior, and in following Him, true life will be found." Christ never promises earthly success or wealth or a trouble-free life. Scientology offers success, prosperity, the ability to overcome any trouble.
Our tour guide, a man named Salvador I believe, was from Argentina. I would like to say I know more of his story, but everything on that tour is absolutely controlled. Information is given, there is little give and take in terms of dialogue. There are opportunities to ask questions, but honestly, they are only concerned with questions that reflect well on Scientology, certainly not anything that might call into question their teachings.
So we take the tour, watch the videos, the demonstrations, visit the bookstore (and to be a good Scientologist one must purchase a LOT of books because one needs the answers to every life issue and or possible life issue), and watched the orientation film, which by the way, you can still, I believe, check out on YouTube.
Another thing that struck me was what we observed while we were hearing about the wonders of Scientology and how it brings happiness and wholeness and empowers the practitioners. As we walked around the center, I observed the employees and honestly, there didn't appear to be much in the way of joy or happiness. Some looked flat out miserable.
Before you judge, insert your own observation about many Christians and the church.
Last year, we had opportunity both while there (with our tour guide, Desiree) and after leaving (on Hollywood Blvd) to take what we had learned of Scientology and share Christ with Scientologists. This year, our tour was so tightly managed and every moment so controlled, we did not have that opportunity to slow our guide down and talk Gospel.
So why go? What good came from that?
Francis of Assisi said something to the effect of "preach the Gospel at all times, use words when necessary." In other words, our very lives should be a reflection of Christ-our words, our response to others, our actions...
And Christ was shining through our group. I don't think Salvador knew what to make of this group of students who were not Scientologists, but had this sense of peace, joy and happiness that we never saw inside the center. He was briefly disarmed and lowered his guard as we had opportunity to hang out with him in a garden area. He relaxed for a moment and as I watched him I could almost see the wheels turning in his head, wondering, "What is it with theses people? What do they have?"
Yes, I did have opportunity to tell him and another that we were followers of Christ. I pray the Spirit uses that knowledge to pique interest and curiosity.
Jenny, the coordinator was also curious on some level. Our conversations on the phone and brief personal meeting made some kind of impression on her. Later that day, she called to thank us for coming and asked if we had an enjoyable time. She also said we were a 'really great group.' Last year there were no follow up phone calls. As we prayerfully walked through that center we were asking Him to use us in some way. I honestly believe those we interacted with saw something different in us and they had no framework for understanding what that something different was, but it was appealing on some level.
The woman (and now I've forgotten her name, please forgive-but she is on our prayer list that we developed of every person we encountered in LA and prayed for every night-perhaps we will publish that list once it is typed) but this woman who spoke to us after the orientation film stood out the most. We were supposed to be out of the doors by 12:00 noon-but she wouldn't let us go. It wasn't that she was holding us hostage, she was just pouring out her life story. You see, she is a 'pastor' in the church and as she shared her story (from Woodstock hippie to Buddhist monastic to various other religious stops along the way to Scientology) it was so obvious that inside, in her core, she was still searching. So, alone with her in this room, she told her story and kept talking and talking-almost a cathartic experience for her. We listened and spoke as she gave us opportunity, but for her, she just needed to unload.
She stuck in our minds. Even as a 'pastor' in the church, she was still seeking...and we are praying for her. She enjoyed our group to the extent that we stayed approximately 20 minutes beyond our scheduled time (and believe me, the Centre runs a very tight ship) to listen to her.
The follow up is important. Thank you cards were sent to Jenny and to the 'pastor'-and I will be following up with Jenny by phone, to see if I might get her email (again, they are very guarded-so please pray she is open) so perhaps a two-way conversation can develop.
The great irony from our time there was the tangible sense of darkness, of control. While offering freedom and liberation from human limitations, Scientology instead brings a form of servitude and slavery. I can only imagine how difficult it is for someone who is immersed in the religion to walk away and break free without a lot of intimidation and harassment.
What are some take away points from this visit:
1) There is a lot going on in the unseen realm that truly shapes people, cultures, structures and communities-and Scientology is definitely one of those spiritual forces shaping Los Angeles.
2) There are times when you may not be able to present the story of Christ (Security would have ushered us out and those we interacted with would have been further driven from the Truth), but Christ can and will shine through you as others see the difference in your life that comes from Him being your life.
3) Scientology has a well-thought out vision, strategy and methodology and they are executing it exceptionally well. I think of the church, and honestly, we have the Truth, we have a much greater mission, but sometimes it seems we are so...unintentional about what we are doing. It's almost as if we have (not all, but enough to be cause for concern) this attitude: "Well, I'm in-I've got the whole eternal life thing...if 'they' want us, they know where to find us." It's like we've substituted the Great Commission for something we might call "The Not So Great Invitation." Go up and down Hollywood Blvd and you'll see not only the presence of Scientology but practitioners aggressively sharing their story to win 'converts.'
4) To walk into the heart of a dark place and to be able to establish relationships on some level with people in bondage is something God can and will use. Often we think if we don't whip out the 4-Spiritual Laws, tell the story, we've failed. But if we are really honest with ourselves, a lot of times when we do this, it is akin to a 'spiritual drive-bye" -we unload and drive off. If the person accepts the Message, we're pleased with ourselves. If they don't, or if they have more questions, we wash our hands and move on. We've 'done our job.' Perhaps there are cases when the most important thing to do is to let Him be seen in us and to intentionally develop relationships through which the Gospel will flow. It's much more difficult to invest long-term in someone, but many times, that is what is needed.
5) Sometimes our job is to simply till very hard spiritual ground. We all have a role in the harvest. Some work the soil, some come along and plant, others water...God provides the harvest. As such, we must remember that every encounter with every person we meet is opportunity for us to be used in some way by God in that person's life for His purposes. At the center we did some tilling and some sowing. We are praying that God will continue to bring others along to water and cultivate.
6) Which leads to the last point: The power of prayer. Followers of Christ affirm belief in the power of prayer, but often we live our lives as if we believe otherwise. Our group bathed our new 'friends' in prayer and will continue to do so. We believe God is Big enough, Powerful enough to continue to bring more followers of Christ into the lives of people like Jenny and Salvador. I ask that you pray for these two as well as our Scientology pastor friend. God is not bound by time, geography or anything. Wherever you are, you can pray for these three people created in His Image, these three for whom Christ died to ransom. Do you believe He is able?
Monday, July 13, 2009
LA Stories: The Ignorant, Englightened and Conversations in Spiritually Dark Places
Our second day in Los Angeles was spent trying to understand some of the spiritual influences on the city. It was an interesting way to gain some perspective on the city before we plunged into the despair that is Skid Row and South Central Los Angeles. Our first stop was at the Scientology Centre. Our second stop...the largest Buddhist Temple in America, Hsi Lai.
As our caravan pulled onto the property of Hsi Lai we couldn't help but be impressed. So much land, so many beautiful trees, the site occupying a mountain side-and the architecture, straight out of China. The temple itself was built by Chinese with Chinese money and designed to replicate the great temples in China. It felt as if we were in another land, and in so many ways, we were. As we ascended the stairs (and there were many) that led to the entrance of the temple, it would be an understatement to say we were a bit awe struck. The facility is simply huge. The various buildings of the temple continue to ascend upwards, quite an incredible place. Everything was pristine, as one might imagine. Buddhists pay great attention to the smallest details, everything is done as art, as a reflection of their 'spirituality.'
We were greeted by Mae Chu, who organizes group tours for the temple. Immediately we were taken to a hospitality room where we were offered either hot green tea (made correctly as Mae pointed out-because there is an art as well to making Chinese green tea properly) or water. The first impression we had was that of a very hospitable people making us feel quite at home, concerned that we were comfortable and prepared for our two and a half hour tour.
After a few minutes, we were introduced to our guide, a female monk, the "Venerable Ru Lan" a woman with a shaved head, a monk's robe-somewhere in her late 20's or early 30's. Ru Lan carried herself gracefully as if every step she took had meaning and was again, itself an act of spiritual expression.
Ru Lan was a master teacher. She spent two hours with us, taking us from one area of the temple to another, explaining Buddhism, what every statue meant, what every piece of art of every symbol meant. She would 'teach' us by asking us questions. As our tour unfolded she shared many of the Dharma's of Buddhism (teachings), and her veneration for the Buddha, her commitment to this way of life was undeniable.
While there, it was not uncommon to see worshipers come into the temple, offer something on the altar before the Buddhas (whether food, or coins or something personal) and devoutly begin to meditate and or pray. They take their religion quite seriously.
We learned much about Buddhism. It is one thing to read about the tenets of Buddhism, another to hear it first hand from a 'master' and to see it in practice. While there, C.S. Lewis' remarks came to mind. I believe he said that were it not for him coming to know the truth of Christianity he would have made a marvelous Hindu. For me, if it were not for the grace of God bringing me to the Living Christ, in my flesh, Buddhism would have been the 'religion' that would have most appealed to me.
But while we were there, as the tour continued, my heart broke. So much veneration, so much eagerness to escape the wheel of karma, so much desperation for this peace that Buddhism promises, fleshed out all around us.
Ru Lan spoke to us about the basic tenets of Buddhism, and as our conversation continued, it became clear-she was not there to 'evangelize' us, but rather to 'open our minds' that we might gain some light, become interested in Buddhism, that we might pursue that path (and we were given materials to encourage us to investigate Buddhism), because at the core, she was the enlightened one and we were dull, ignorant ones if you will, to the realities around us, bound by karma but able to break free if we would embrace the Dharmas and the Buddha's way of life. Ru Lan was doing her best to 'enlighten us' because at times you could tell she felt some kind of sympathy for us, stuck in our 'ignorance'-but all she could or would do was to give us more of the Dharmas and ask us more questions (they are big on teaching by asking questions) to hopefully spark something inside of us. I made note of this as well.
At each point along the way we had opportunity to ask questions (and she asked us MANY questions to stimulate our thinking). At one particular point, she was going over some of the virtues of Buddhism, and I noted compassion was present, but strangely, love was absent. She asked if there were any questions. I commended her on understanding the importance of compassion (even though we had a different concept of what compassion is and does), and then asked her about love. What does Buddhism have to say about love, that kind of love that commits to another-an act of the will, sacrificial love? (We would as followers of Christ call that 'agape love.') and she had no framework for that. Her explanation, for the first time on our tour, was not clear. Perhaps it caught her off guard. I think she had no framework for that kind of love. I made note of this.
As our tour continued, her enthusiasm for explaining her faith continued to grow. She was graceful, gracious and a patient guide. Our students asked many questions and in so many ways, the questions asked were bridges to the Gospel. I do not know how she processed the questions, but I do believe the Holy Spirit used those questions and will use those questions for further dialogue (more on that later).
The thing that struck me as I read the literature and as I listened to her and others within the temple, is the desire to break free from their cyclical view of life and death and bad karma. Their devotion is in part fueled by both a desire to break free and a fear of not breaking free. And the key to that breaking free is adherence to the Dharmas, to living right lives, very much self-effort.
There is no concept of a Savior, of One who came to Redeem us. There is no outside help. This is definitely a do it yourself kind of deliverance, and this too broke my heart. There are no guarantees, only the hope that somehow if doing that which is good from the Buddhist perspective, the cycle will eventually be broken.
As our tour winded down, that question about love-the kind of love that Christ demonstrates towards us, the kind of love that should characterize all followers of Christ became my core question, my burning desire-that thing I HAD to discuss with her in private. As she said farewell and thank you to our group, she walked away gracefully to her quarters. I, not so gracefully, raced after her to ask if it would be possible for our conversation to continue. I told her I was a follower of Christ and that I would be quite honored to continue this conversation with her about life, reality, truth if she was willing. I told her I would like to learn more about her story and that I would enjoy a mutual exchange. Surprisingly she was open. She said I could send her emails (I think I'll cover one topic or question at a time, given my propensity for lengthy writings) and that Mae would get them to her, and she would respond. This is on my list of things I must begin this week. So, please pray for Ru Lan, and for Mae Chu-and for me as well.
But there were several things about our time there that stood out-questions that came to mind:
1) Their hospitality to the outsider was exemplary. What if 'outsiders' to Christianity experienced the same kind of hospitality from God's people? They were quite sensitive to our being outsiders and empathetic to how that must feel, and they went out of their way to make us feel welcomed. Honestly, we Christians could do a little better in this department.
2) Their attention to detail-what they might being fully attentive in each moment-was also impressive. As I read the Psalms, I see David taking note of the stars and creation and praising God for the beauty that is all around him, a reflection of the Glory of God. Sometimes I think the fast paced American culture shapes us so much we don't notice a tenth of what is going on around us. While I may not begin practicing the art of 'mindfulness' when making my next cup of hot green tea, I certainly can be more mindful of the people around me, the opportunities to bless, to love-and I can certainly slow down enough to see how all of creation declares the Glory of God.
3) The intensity of their devotion spoke as well. Granted, from my perspective, much of that was driven by this desire to escape bad karma-but shouldn't our devotion to the One who loved us, delivered us, set us free provoke this amazing love response to Him? And again, if we are honest, sometimes we are neither hot or cold-and this is tragic. His love should compel us to a life of love, service, worship-to follow Him with unparalleled devotion.
4) Beauty. I read the Psalms and again, I see David amazed by the beauty that is around him, an understanding that this beauty is a reflection of God's Beauty. And again, I think we are missing out on something here. Yes, life is difficult, and there are trials, but God has placed beauty all around us, whether it is the created order, or the people in our lives.
5) Teaching style. I've heard countless preachers preach countless sermons and honestly, sometimes it's as if I'm listening to someone fly by the seat of their pants, little depth and information, and little in the way of engaging the audience. I'm sure I've preached my fair share of sermons that just bombed as well. Her teaching style encouraged us to think and to interact with what she was saying, very engaging. What if we were more thoughtful about the way we are communicating with people? I look at the Gospels and I see Jesus, the Master Teacher, asking questions, using imagery and metaphors, challenging people to think and to respond, not merely be passive listeners. For Ru Lan, the message she was sharing was of supreme importance. As such, she paid great attention to detail as she communicated. We have THE Message, and yet sometimes, perhaps because we are 'too comfortable with the holy' we do not think carefully through what we are sharing. It must be understandable, applicable-and it should be informative to the outsider.
There is more to tell, it is too difficult to explain all we were told, all we were taught in this entry-but I do know that God has opened a door for further dialogue with Ru Lan and Mae, and for that I am thankful.
The next day would be surreal for us, our tour of Los Angeles over, and plunging into the darkness and despair among the least of these. Those stories will follow.
As our caravan pulled onto the property of Hsi Lai we couldn't help but be impressed. So much land, so many beautiful trees, the site occupying a mountain side-and the architecture, straight out of China. The temple itself was built by Chinese with Chinese money and designed to replicate the great temples in China. It felt as if we were in another land, and in so many ways, we were. As we ascended the stairs (and there were many) that led to the entrance of the temple, it would be an understatement to say we were a bit awe struck. The facility is simply huge. The various buildings of the temple continue to ascend upwards, quite an incredible place. Everything was pristine, as one might imagine. Buddhists pay great attention to the smallest details, everything is done as art, as a reflection of their 'spirituality.'
We were greeted by Mae Chu, who organizes group tours for the temple. Immediately we were taken to a hospitality room where we were offered either hot green tea (made correctly as Mae pointed out-because there is an art as well to making Chinese green tea properly) or water. The first impression we had was that of a very hospitable people making us feel quite at home, concerned that we were comfortable and prepared for our two and a half hour tour.
After a few minutes, we were introduced to our guide, a female monk, the "Venerable Ru Lan" a woman with a shaved head, a monk's robe-somewhere in her late 20's or early 30's. Ru Lan carried herself gracefully as if every step she took had meaning and was again, itself an act of spiritual expression.
Ru Lan was a master teacher. She spent two hours with us, taking us from one area of the temple to another, explaining Buddhism, what every statue meant, what every piece of art of every symbol meant. She would 'teach' us by asking us questions. As our tour unfolded she shared many of the Dharma's of Buddhism (teachings), and her veneration for the Buddha, her commitment to this way of life was undeniable.
While there, it was not uncommon to see worshipers come into the temple, offer something on the altar before the Buddhas (whether food, or coins or something personal) and devoutly begin to meditate and or pray. They take their religion quite seriously.
We learned much about Buddhism. It is one thing to read about the tenets of Buddhism, another to hear it first hand from a 'master' and to see it in practice. While there, C.S. Lewis' remarks came to mind. I believe he said that were it not for him coming to know the truth of Christianity he would have made a marvelous Hindu. For me, if it were not for the grace of God bringing me to the Living Christ, in my flesh, Buddhism would have been the 'religion' that would have most appealed to me.
But while we were there, as the tour continued, my heart broke. So much veneration, so much eagerness to escape the wheel of karma, so much desperation for this peace that Buddhism promises, fleshed out all around us.
Ru Lan spoke to us about the basic tenets of Buddhism, and as our conversation continued, it became clear-she was not there to 'evangelize' us, but rather to 'open our minds' that we might gain some light, become interested in Buddhism, that we might pursue that path (and we were given materials to encourage us to investigate Buddhism), because at the core, she was the enlightened one and we were dull, ignorant ones if you will, to the realities around us, bound by karma but able to break free if we would embrace the Dharmas and the Buddha's way of life. Ru Lan was doing her best to 'enlighten us' because at times you could tell she felt some kind of sympathy for us, stuck in our 'ignorance'-but all she could or would do was to give us more of the Dharmas and ask us more questions (they are big on teaching by asking questions) to hopefully spark something inside of us. I made note of this as well.
At each point along the way we had opportunity to ask questions (and she asked us MANY questions to stimulate our thinking). At one particular point, she was going over some of the virtues of Buddhism, and I noted compassion was present, but strangely, love was absent. She asked if there were any questions. I commended her on understanding the importance of compassion (even though we had a different concept of what compassion is and does), and then asked her about love. What does Buddhism have to say about love, that kind of love that commits to another-an act of the will, sacrificial love? (We would as followers of Christ call that 'agape love.') and she had no framework for that. Her explanation, for the first time on our tour, was not clear. Perhaps it caught her off guard. I think she had no framework for that kind of love. I made note of this.
As our tour continued, her enthusiasm for explaining her faith continued to grow. She was graceful, gracious and a patient guide. Our students asked many questions and in so many ways, the questions asked were bridges to the Gospel. I do not know how she processed the questions, but I do believe the Holy Spirit used those questions and will use those questions for further dialogue (more on that later).
The thing that struck me as I read the literature and as I listened to her and others within the temple, is the desire to break free from their cyclical view of life and death and bad karma. Their devotion is in part fueled by both a desire to break free and a fear of not breaking free. And the key to that breaking free is adherence to the Dharmas, to living right lives, very much self-effort.
There is no concept of a Savior, of One who came to Redeem us. There is no outside help. This is definitely a do it yourself kind of deliverance, and this too broke my heart. There are no guarantees, only the hope that somehow if doing that which is good from the Buddhist perspective, the cycle will eventually be broken.
As our tour winded down, that question about love-the kind of love that Christ demonstrates towards us, the kind of love that should characterize all followers of Christ became my core question, my burning desire-that thing I HAD to discuss with her in private. As she said farewell and thank you to our group, she walked away gracefully to her quarters. I, not so gracefully, raced after her to ask if it would be possible for our conversation to continue. I told her I was a follower of Christ and that I would be quite honored to continue this conversation with her about life, reality, truth if she was willing. I told her I would like to learn more about her story and that I would enjoy a mutual exchange. Surprisingly she was open. She said I could send her emails (I think I'll cover one topic or question at a time, given my propensity for lengthy writings) and that Mae would get them to her, and she would respond. This is on my list of things I must begin this week. So, please pray for Ru Lan, and for Mae Chu-and for me as well.
But there were several things about our time there that stood out-questions that came to mind:
1) Their hospitality to the outsider was exemplary. What if 'outsiders' to Christianity experienced the same kind of hospitality from God's people? They were quite sensitive to our being outsiders and empathetic to how that must feel, and they went out of their way to make us feel welcomed. Honestly, we Christians could do a little better in this department.
2) Their attention to detail-what they might being fully attentive in each moment-was also impressive. As I read the Psalms, I see David taking note of the stars and creation and praising God for the beauty that is all around him, a reflection of the Glory of God. Sometimes I think the fast paced American culture shapes us so much we don't notice a tenth of what is going on around us. While I may not begin practicing the art of 'mindfulness' when making my next cup of hot green tea, I certainly can be more mindful of the people around me, the opportunities to bless, to love-and I can certainly slow down enough to see how all of creation declares the Glory of God.
3) The intensity of their devotion spoke as well. Granted, from my perspective, much of that was driven by this desire to escape bad karma-but shouldn't our devotion to the One who loved us, delivered us, set us free provoke this amazing love response to Him? And again, if we are honest, sometimes we are neither hot or cold-and this is tragic. His love should compel us to a life of love, service, worship-to follow Him with unparalleled devotion.
4) Beauty. I read the Psalms and again, I see David amazed by the beauty that is around him, an understanding that this beauty is a reflection of God's Beauty. And again, I think we are missing out on something here. Yes, life is difficult, and there are trials, but God has placed beauty all around us, whether it is the created order, or the people in our lives.
5) Teaching style. I've heard countless preachers preach countless sermons and honestly, sometimes it's as if I'm listening to someone fly by the seat of their pants, little depth and information, and little in the way of engaging the audience. I'm sure I've preached my fair share of sermons that just bombed as well. Her teaching style encouraged us to think and to interact with what she was saying, very engaging. What if we were more thoughtful about the way we are communicating with people? I look at the Gospels and I see Jesus, the Master Teacher, asking questions, using imagery and metaphors, challenging people to think and to respond, not merely be passive listeners. For Ru Lan, the message she was sharing was of supreme importance. As such, she paid great attention to detail as she communicated. We have THE Message, and yet sometimes, perhaps because we are 'too comfortable with the holy' we do not think carefully through what we are sharing. It must be understandable, applicable-and it should be informative to the outsider.
There is more to tell, it is too difficult to explain all we were told, all we were taught in this entry-but I do know that God has opened a door for further dialogue with Ru Lan and Mae, and for that I am thankful.
The next day would be surreal for us, our tour of Los Angeles over, and plunging into the darkness and despair among the least of these. Those stories will follow.
Sunrise Breakfast on Skid Row: Conversations Outside the Gate
The schedule said: 'Roll call, 5:00 a.m. Meet at vehicles, leave for Union Rescue Mission.' I'm not a morning person. It's widely known (at least among family) that it's best to let dad have an hour and a half of quiet with coffee and the Scripture before he should be allowed to speak to anyone, or be spoken to. O.K.-I'm grumpy in the morning. I admit it. I'm not 'that guy' who wakes up each morning greeting the sun and embracing the created order with joy, and barring a miracle, probably will never be that guy-and I've accepted that.
So 5:00 a.m. roll call meant more than just showing up first at the vehicle. It meant being up by 4:00 so I could shower and do something to get my blood flowing, spend some time with God, ask for help I would obviously need. It meant that somehow I would need to get down to the vehicles early and be at least a moderately alert and pleasant voice of calmness as well as provide a measure of somewhat coherent leadership to a large group of students who, I assumed, would likewise be fairly sleepy and groggy. I was excited to go to Union, but must admit, I would have preferred the lunch shift, but this was our assignment.
I tried to be strategic about the whole thing, knowing myself on little sleep. Somehow I would also need to have coffee, but no place was open at that hour. I know-my lack of spirituality is showing-I shouldn't need caffeine. There, it's out of the way. But the night before, at the local grocery store I found a bag of chocolate covered espresso beans. One serving equaled one cup of espresso. There were three servings in the bag. I wondered if that would be enough...seriously, I'm that bad in the morning.
To add to it, there was this element of being tested for the first time. Two and a half weeks earlier I was in the hospital for something called neuro syncope, which is a fancy way of saying I have this really low blood pressure and an enlarged lower chamber in my heart (ironically due to a lot of exercising) and the combination of the two can sometimes cause this wonderful reaction called passing out. Four days in that hospital and a week of hanging loose and resting at home. My heart is in great condition, it's just that I have this weird thing and there are certain things that can trigger it: Dehydration (so I get to drink at least one Gatorade a day), and lack of sleep are two big triggers. So, here I am my little fridge stockpiled with Gatorades, Smart Water and this bag of chocolate espresso beans. I'm really not interested in finding out what it might be like to go 'lights out' at Union.
So I fell asleep around 12:30 a.m., thinking that I would wake up around 4:00, drink my ginormous G 2 Grape Gatorade and crunch that bag of espresso beans, shower (cold shower) spend some time with God and hopefully be moderately alert.
Turns out, God decided it would be good for me to wake up at 3:23. I remember looking at my watch and thinking, 'honestly, why try to go back to sleep?' (Oh, did I mention I also have insomnia-and if I ever wake up in the middle of the night I can't fall back asleep? Yeah, that too). So, I sat up, turned on the light in my little dorm room and started drinking purple Gatorade and eating chocolate espresso beans-the breakfast of champions. I did get to spend more time with God than I previously planned (and frankly, there was a lot of asking Him to just let me stay upright while there) and after that, had a marvelously cold shower and made my way down to the vehicles.
Everyone was tired, and there was a collective sense of "what are we getting in to?" that was almost palpable. But the students, to their credit, were soon alert, at least I know the ones in my vehicle were. I am guessing part of their alertness was related to this learned fear they had of me getting lost and us missing our appointment. But we arrived, all together, no one lost-and our adventure began.
Skid Row in the morning is not like Santa Monica beach in the morning. We saw people asleep on the pavement, some others slowly milling around, starting their day. We entered the underground parking at Union. We took the elevator up and from there, we were introduced to a new world.
We checked in at the security station and were told to go to the kitchen. We shuffled down the hallway, some residents were already up and moving around. Once in the kitchen, we were assigned our duties and the work began.
We were broken into groups. We did everything from chop food to butter bread. We were making both breakfast as well as starting lunch. It was a whirlwind of activity. The crew chief ran a tight ship. One of the assistants, Brian, also a resident, was 'that guy' -one of those individuals who was energized and simply glad to be alive on this morning. His enthusiasm was contagious. While the crew chief kept people moving and things rolling (and honestly, he was a big man and a bit gruff-he scared most of us into staying focused and moving quickly), but Brian joyfully, enthusiastically and energetically did his work and somehow found time to make the rounds to tell jokes. He had this epic Pirate joke that was exceptionally funny at 6:45 a.m. but I can't remember it, just his pirate voice, which was in and of itself hilarious.
Time flew. Before we knew it, our shift was over-9:15...I went to meet Mindy, this remarkable young woman who coordinates the volunteers at Union. She would give us our tour. While I went by her office, the students stuck around and had breakfast with some of the residents. I was so blessed by their willingness to jump in and not only work with the residents of Union, but also spend casual time with them, talking about God, life, and listening to stories. Our students are simply amazing.
Mindy was out of the office when I first arrived. I was told she would return in about 20 minutes. At that moment, I had this compelling urge to go outside, to be on the streets, to talk with someone, to listen. I can't explain it-I just knew I needed to go by myself. I found a Union security officer and asked if I could go outside to talk to people, or just listen to people. He gave me this strange look, the kind of look that said, 'Now why would you want to go out there?" But I assured him I would be smart and he eventually decided to let me go. We walked down a hallway where some of the male residents were showering and another hallway where some male residents were just hanging around. I am extremely aware at this point that I don't look like I belong here. Nonetheless, I have to go outside.
He opens a door and shows me the inner courtyard. "It's safer in here. You can talk to people in here. Outside, don't really want you going outside." And he left.
And there I am.
In the male part of the courtyard I see... I don't know how many men, of various ages and ethnic backgrounds. Some are asleep. Some are sitting still, as if the life had been sucked out of them, some are talking (talking to others, a few to themselves). At that point I figured the only thing to do was to just ask God to show me who to go to, who to talk to. Part of me wondered, 'did I really think this through? What am I supposed to say, 'It's going to be O.K.?" or "I understand?'"
I made the rounds so to speak. Some did not want to talk. Some did. Some of the conversations I did not understand because some I spoke to were living in this alternative reality. But there was one, his name was William. William is a black man in his 50's. He saw me and asked me "Are you a preacher?" I told him 'no...I'm a minister, but really I'm just here to see how you are doing." Our conversation didn't last long-but he was polite and asked me to pray for his situation. I checked my watch and examined the growing crowd outside the courtyard. Again, something compelled....
I wasn't supposed to do this, but again, I just had to know what it was like, what might be out there, who might be out there...and the walk on the street from the male courtyard to the other entrance at the female courtyard (and back into the building) wasn't that long, so I took my first solo steps out on Skid Row.
To say I could identify with the people milling around would be disingenuous. But God gave a sense of peace and I started walking down the section of the street to the other entrance. I said hello to a few people, anyone who would look me in the eye, and some returned the greeting. One man in particular asked me if I could get him food inside. I asked him if he wanted to come in. He said, 'No...don't want to check in there." I knew I couldn't bring him food outside. I tried to encourage him to check in, but he started to walk away.
The smell of marijuana wafted by.
I asked him if I could pray for him. He said, 'sure.' So we prayed for a moment and soon after the prayer he wandered off, disappearing into the crowds. I wonder what happened to him. I stood there for a brief moment soaking in what I was seeing. Hopelessness and Despair were tangible. Like a dark cloud hanging over the streets. It was etched on so many faces. Tired, beaten down, worn out, disillusioned...the forgotten, the left behind, the least of these.
My need for caffeine and Gatorade seemed really trivial in that moment. I had a new perspective on my sense of 'feeling tired and wiped out.' There were people all over who had long ago given up or been given up on. My problems are small.
I went back to Mindy's office and she was there to greet me. She is an amazing young woman. She has a degree from a great university and she yet she has chosen to serve on Skid Row, to work at Union, to make a difference. I'm sure she has many peers who are 'carving out their names' and 'climbing the corporate ladder'-but Mindy has chosen a different path towards 'greatness'-she's descended into it. Reminds me of Philippians 2.
She's been there almost four years. Beautiful heart, and an old soul for someone in her 20's. She's seen more and experienced more than most people her age, or older for that matter. Still, the love of Christ is evident in her, and tired or not, she radiates grace.
She gathers the group and we tour the facility. Union is an amazing place with programs and housing and treatment and training for individuals and families. Mindy explains all that Union does as we follow her down each hallway, up each floor.
After an hour of seeing this place and learning more about what Union is doing to address the homeless situation in Los Angeles, a city with a homeless population greater than New York City and Chicago combined, I am even more amazed by her and the other people who have willingly chosen to invest their lives in this ministry. These are not the 'rock stars' of Christianity-not a part of the 'cult of personality'-they aren't known by many for what they do, they are not 'famous' like some preachers or ministers, but their lives, and that includes Mindy's life, speaks volumes. Quietly going about this business of serving with no fanfare and little recognition.
Once our group is on the roof of Union, we are able to look down and see the masses wandering around the area. Some are seeking shelter, some seeking just to survive another day. As we took all of this in, I glanced at Mindy and I thought I picked up on something I can only call a sense of soul-weariness. I asked her, "Mindy, can we pray for you?" I didn't know how that came out, so I tried to qualify: 'I'm guessing you get tired sometimes. You see a lot. The people, they just keep coming and coming and coming. I would imagine it would be easy sometimes to just feel overwhelmed by it all."
She responds well. Yes, we can pray for her. And our students, with the fantastic hearts they have, immediately gathered around her and we prayed for her. She truly seemed to appreciate it.
I think we all need that. Whenever you are serving people, whether on Skid Row or in any other context, sometimes you just get worn out. We all need a bit of encouragement from time to time. I encourage you to pray for Mindy. To me-she's like an evangelical Mother Teresa. I'm sure she'd appreciate your prayers. She's doing remarkable work.
So our time is over, but again, I feel compelled to ask for something. I ask Mindy if our students can go out into the courtyards to pray for and listen and talk to some of the people 'out there.' We are given permission.
I don't remember if I asked the students if they wanted to do this. Maybe I did. I just wanted them to get out of the security of that building and see what I saw, and to see how God might use them.
So we went. Females to the female side. Males to the male side.
The crowds had grown since my little solo excursion. At this time I was more concerned with watching out for the safety of the group. I'm playing 'dad' now. I talk to some people, but I'm doing a lot of watching, checking to make sure our students are safe and fine.
They are amazing. I see some of our guys talking to men two to three times their age. I see some praying with a man. I see others sharing Christ. I see others simply sitting down next to a man and listening. I slip into the building and peep outside the female side of the courtyard. I see our young women doing the same. No fear. No hesitation. They are engaged. They are declaring and demonstrating Christ's love. It is beautiful.
Making my way down the street towards the male section I once again smell marijuana, and this time a large security officer from Union comes out and with a booming voice tells the men in the area, 'I told you guys to knock it off, there's gonna be trouble.' I soon learn what he means. Within five minutes a police car pulls up, siren blaring, and a young man in his late 20's is arrested. People start to scatter. The security officer gives me that 'get your people out of here before things get really ugly' look. I start gathering our males back into the courtyard (much like me, several of them wanted to talk to the people on the outside), and we start wrapping our time at Union up.
But before we leave, there are still students talking, listening, praying...just being there. And there are a few residents of Skid Row with smiles on their faces, glad that someone came down to where they were to talk with them, to spend a moment with them, to meet them where they are in life and to speak Hope, Truth, Love and Grace into their lives. It's what followers of Christ should be known for. I was blessed beyond measure as I watched them.
And as we left Union, I was reminded of One who left the Splendors of Heaven, took on flesh, lived in poverty, walked among us, identified with us, and ultimately laid His life down for us that we might live. The One who came to set the captives free. The One who, I am sure if He were physically walking around right now would be walking around Skid Row.
As you read this rather rambling story about our time at Union and our first experience with Skid Row, you need to know that there is no way I could tell every story. This is a very truncated version. There were so many people, so many stories...and as you read this story, it is easy to grasp the despair and hopelessness that is there on Skid Row-but it's not just the homeless wandering aimlessly on Skid Row that Jesus came to set free. It's people like you and me as well. All of us in bondage to sin and death. All of us in need of redemption. None of us able to deliver ourselves.
You see, Skid Row is a geographical location. It is also a spiritual condition-and the Good News is that He has come to Rescue us, and to me that is the Greatest Rescue Mission in Human History.
* Note: I would love to post pictures from Skid Row. However, none of the ministries we worked with allowed us to do so, for understandable reasons-these are people, real people, like you and me, not attractions. For more information on this aspect of a ministry we connected with, Google Union Rescue Mission, Los Angeles.
So 5:00 a.m. roll call meant more than just showing up first at the vehicle. It meant being up by 4:00 so I could shower and do something to get my blood flowing, spend some time with God, ask for help I would obviously need. It meant that somehow I would need to get down to the vehicles early and be at least a moderately alert and pleasant voice of calmness as well as provide a measure of somewhat coherent leadership to a large group of students who, I assumed, would likewise be fairly sleepy and groggy. I was excited to go to Union, but must admit, I would have preferred the lunch shift, but this was our assignment.
I tried to be strategic about the whole thing, knowing myself on little sleep. Somehow I would also need to have coffee, but no place was open at that hour. I know-my lack of spirituality is showing-I shouldn't need caffeine. There, it's out of the way. But the night before, at the local grocery store I found a bag of chocolate covered espresso beans. One serving equaled one cup of espresso. There were three servings in the bag. I wondered if that would be enough...seriously, I'm that bad in the morning.
To add to it, there was this element of being tested for the first time. Two and a half weeks earlier I was in the hospital for something called neuro syncope, which is a fancy way of saying I have this really low blood pressure and an enlarged lower chamber in my heart (ironically due to a lot of exercising) and the combination of the two can sometimes cause this wonderful reaction called passing out. Four days in that hospital and a week of hanging loose and resting at home. My heart is in great condition, it's just that I have this weird thing and there are certain things that can trigger it: Dehydration (so I get to drink at least one Gatorade a day), and lack of sleep are two big triggers. So, here I am my little fridge stockpiled with Gatorades, Smart Water and this bag of chocolate espresso beans. I'm really not interested in finding out what it might be like to go 'lights out' at Union.
So I fell asleep around 12:30 a.m., thinking that I would wake up around 4:00, drink my ginormous G 2 Grape Gatorade and crunch that bag of espresso beans, shower (cold shower) spend some time with God and hopefully be moderately alert.
Turns out, God decided it would be good for me to wake up at 3:23. I remember looking at my watch and thinking, 'honestly, why try to go back to sleep?' (Oh, did I mention I also have insomnia-and if I ever wake up in the middle of the night I can't fall back asleep? Yeah, that too). So, I sat up, turned on the light in my little dorm room and started drinking purple Gatorade and eating chocolate espresso beans-the breakfast of champions. I did get to spend more time with God than I previously planned (and frankly, there was a lot of asking Him to just let me stay upright while there) and after that, had a marvelously cold shower and made my way down to the vehicles.
Everyone was tired, and there was a collective sense of "what are we getting in to?" that was almost palpable. But the students, to their credit, were soon alert, at least I know the ones in my vehicle were. I am guessing part of their alertness was related to this learned fear they had of me getting lost and us missing our appointment. But we arrived, all together, no one lost-and our adventure began.
Skid Row in the morning is not like Santa Monica beach in the morning. We saw people asleep on the pavement, some others slowly milling around, starting their day. We entered the underground parking at Union. We took the elevator up and from there, we were introduced to a new world.
We checked in at the security station and were told to go to the kitchen. We shuffled down the hallway, some residents were already up and moving around. Once in the kitchen, we were assigned our duties and the work began.
We were broken into groups. We did everything from chop food to butter bread. We were making both breakfast as well as starting lunch. It was a whirlwind of activity. The crew chief ran a tight ship. One of the assistants, Brian, also a resident, was 'that guy' -one of those individuals who was energized and simply glad to be alive on this morning. His enthusiasm was contagious. While the crew chief kept people moving and things rolling (and honestly, he was a big man and a bit gruff-he scared most of us into staying focused and moving quickly), but Brian joyfully, enthusiastically and energetically did his work and somehow found time to make the rounds to tell jokes. He had this epic Pirate joke that was exceptionally funny at 6:45 a.m. but I can't remember it, just his pirate voice, which was in and of itself hilarious.
Time flew. Before we knew it, our shift was over-9:15...I went to meet Mindy, this remarkable young woman who coordinates the volunteers at Union. She would give us our tour. While I went by her office, the students stuck around and had breakfast with some of the residents. I was so blessed by their willingness to jump in and not only work with the residents of Union, but also spend casual time with them, talking about God, life, and listening to stories. Our students are simply amazing.
Mindy was out of the office when I first arrived. I was told she would return in about 20 minutes. At that moment, I had this compelling urge to go outside, to be on the streets, to talk with someone, to listen. I can't explain it-I just knew I needed to go by myself. I found a Union security officer and asked if I could go outside to talk to people, or just listen to people. He gave me this strange look, the kind of look that said, 'Now why would you want to go out there?" But I assured him I would be smart and he eventually decided to let me go. We walked down a hallway where some of the male residents were showering and another hallway where some male residents were just hanging around. I am extremely aware at this point that I don't look like I belong here. Nonetheless, I have to go outside.
He opens a door and shows me the inner courtyard. "It's safer in here. You can talk to people in here. Outside, don't really want you going outside." And he left.
And there I am.
In the male part of the courtyard I see... I don't know how many men, of various ages and ethnic backgrounds. Some are asleep. Some are sitting still, as if the life had been sucked out of them, some are talking (talking to others, a few to themselves). At that point I figured the only thing to do was to just ask God to show me who to go to, who to talk to. Part of me wondered, 'did I really think this through? What am I supposed to say, 'It's going to be O.K.?" or "I understand?'"
I made the rounds so to speak. Some did not want to talk. Some did. Some of the conversations I did not understand because some I spoke to were living in this alternative reality. But there was one, his name was William. William is a black man in his 50's. He saw me and asked me "Are you a preacher?" I told him 'no...I'm a minister, but really I'm just here to see how you are doing." Our conversation didn't last long-but he was polite and asked me to pray for his situation. I checked my watch and examined the growing crowd outside the courtyard. Again, something compelled....
I wasn't supposed to do this, but again, I just had to know what it was like, what might be out there, who might be out there...and the walk on the street from the male courtyard to the other entrance at the female courtyard (and back into the building) wasn't that long, so I took my first solo steps out on Skid Row.
To say I could identify with the people milling around would be disingenuous. But God gave a sense of peace and I started walking down the section of the street to the other entrance. I said hello to a few people, anyone who would look me in the eye, and some returned the greeting. One man in particular asked me if I could get him food inside. I asked him if he wanted to come in. He said, 'No...don't want to check in there." I knew I couldn't bring him food outside. I tried to encourage him to check in, but he started to walk away.
The smell of marijuana wafted by.
I asked him if I could pray for him. He said, 'sure.' So we prayed for a moment and soon after the prayer he wandered off, disappearing into the crowds. I wonder what happened to him. I stood there for a brief moment soaking in what I was seeing. Hopelessness and Despair were tangible. Like a dark cloud hanging over the streets. It was etched on so many faces. Tired, beaten down, worn out, disillusioned...the forgotten, the left behind, the least of these.
My need for caffeine and Gatorade seemed really trivial in that moment. I had a new perspective on my sense of 'feeling tired and wiped out.' There were people all over who had long ago given up or been given up on. My problems are small.
I went back to Mindy's office and she was there to greet me. She is an amazing young woman. She has a degree from a great university and she yet she has chosen to serve on Skid Row, to work at Union, to make a difference. I'm sure she has many peers who are 'carving out their names' and 'climbing the corporate ladder'-but Mindy has chosen a different path towards 'greatness'-she's descended into it. Reminds me of Philippians 2.
She's been there almost four years. Beautiful heart, and an old soul for someone in her 20's. She's seen more and experienced more than most people her age, or older for that matter. Still, the love of Christ is evident in her, and tired or not, she radiates grace.
She gathers the group and we tour the facility. Union is an amazing place with programs and housing and treatment and training for individuals and families. Mindy explains all that Union does as we follow her down each hallway, up each floor.
After an hour of seeing this place and learning more about what Union is doing to address the homeless situation in Los Angeles, a city with a homeless population greater than New York City and Chicago combined, I am even more amazed by her and the other people who have willingly chosen to invest their lives in this ministry. These are not the 'rock stars' of Christianity-not a part of the 'cult of personality'-they aren't known by many for what they do, they are not 'famous' like some preachers or ministers, but their lives, and that includes Mindy's life, speaks volumes. Quietly going about this business of serving with no fanfare and little recognition.
Once our group is on the roof of Union, we are able to look down and see the masses wandering around the area. Some are seeking shelter, some seeking just to survive another day. As we took all of this in, I glanced at Mindy and I thought I picked up on something I can only call a sense of soul-weariness. I asked her, "Mindy, can we pray for you?" I didn't know how that came out, so I tried to qualify: 'I'm guessing you get tired sometimes. You see a lot. The people, they just keep coming and coming and coming. I would imagine it would be easy sometimes to just feel overwhelmed by it all."
She responds well. Yes, we can pray for her. And our students, with the fantastic hearts they have, immediately gathered around her and we prayed for her. She truly seemed to appreciate it.
I think we all need that. Whenever you are serving people, whether on Skid Row or in any other context, sometimes you just get worn out. We all need a bit of encouragement from time to time. I encourage you to pray for Mindy. To me-she's like an evangelical Mother Teresa. I'm sure she'd appreciate your prayers. She's doing remarkable work.
So our time is over, but again, I feel compelled to ask for something. I ask Mindy if our students can go out into the courtyards to pray for and listen and talk to some of the people 'out there.' We are given permission.
I don't remember if I asked the students if they wanted to do this. Maybe I did. I just wanted them to get out of the security of that building and see what I saw, and to see how God might use them.
So we went. Females to the female side. Males to the male side.
The crowds had grown since my little solo excursion. At this time I was more concerned with watching out for the safety of the group. I'm playing 'dad' now. I talk to some people, but I'm doing a lot of watching, checking to make sure our students are safe and fine.
They are amazing. I see some of our guys talking to men two to three times their age. I see some praying with a man. I see others sharing Christ. I see others simply sitting down next to a man and listening. I slip into the building and peep outside the female side of the courtyard. I see our young women doing the same. No fear. No hesitation. They are engaged. They are declaring and demonstrating Christ's love. It is beautiful.
Making my way down the street towards the male section I once again smell marijuana, and this time a large security officer from Union comes out and with a booming voice tells the men in the area, 'I told you guys to knock it off, there's gonna be trouble.' I soon learn what he means. Within five minutes a police car pulls up, siren blaring, and a young man in his late 20's is arrested. People start to scatter. The security officer gives me that 'get your people out of here before things get really ugly' look. I start gathering our males back into the courtyard (much like me, several of them wanted to talk to the people on the outside), and we start wrapping our time at Union up.
But before we leave, there are still students talking, listening, praying...just being there. And there are a few residents of Skid Row with smiles on their faces, glad that someone came down to where they were to talk with them, to spend a moment with them, to meet them where they are in life and to speak Hope, Truth, Love and Grace into their lives. It's what followers of Christ should be known for. I was blessed beyond measure as I watched them.
And as we left Union, I was reminded of One who left the Splendors of Heaven, took on flesh, lived in poverty, walked among us, identified with us, and ultimately laid His life down for us that we might live. The One who came to set the captives free. The One who, I am sure if He were physically walking around right now would be walking around Skid Row.
As you read this rather rambling story about our time at Union and our first experience with Skid Row, you need to know that there is no way I could tell every story. This is a very truncated version. There were so many people, so many stories...and as you read this story, it is easy to grasp the despair and hopelessness that is there on Skid Row-but it's not just the homeless wandering aimlessly on Skid Row that Jesus came to set free. It's people like you and me as well. All of us in bondage to sin and death. All of us in need of redemption. None of us able to deliver ourselves.
You see, Skid Row is a geographical location. It is also a spiritual condition-and the Good News is that He has come to Rescue us, and to me that is the Greatest Rescue Mission in Human History.
* Note: I would love to post pictures from Skid Row. However, none of the ministries we worked with allowed us to do so, for understandable reasons-these are people, real people, like you and me, not attractions. For more information on this aspect of a ministry we connected with, Google Union Rescue Mission, Los Angeles.
LA Stories: What is Missing and Why
"So you actually raised money and spent money to fly to Los Angeles to work on Skid Row? Why?" Those of us who went on the mission trip met tonight for a debriefing time, and evidently several students have been asked this question. After all, going to Los Angeles as a college student makes sense if you are going to see Hollywood and enjoy the beaches...but Skid Row?
Another common question revolved around pictures. "Where are the pictures of the homeless people? You went on this mission trip and most of the pictures I've seen are students apparently having fun. Where are the homeless?"
I understand this question on one level. We've emphasized from the beginning of this endeavor that this was not a spiritual field trip, or a tourist event, but rather hard work in some pretty tough places and rough conditions. People want to see for themselves what it's like. And, some want to see if the students truly worked.
I've been giving a chronological report, day by day, of what we did in Los Angeles, and now that we are in that part of the story where the homeless are the ministry, there is a natural curiosity. I've had people ask me if Skid Row is in fact a real place or if it's just a term used for people who are down and out.
It is a real place. A real place with real people. Masses of people. The 'disposable ones.'
So where are the pictures?
You won't see any. There are two reasons for this. First and foremost, the agencies we worked with wanted us to see the homeless not as projects, but as people-not as something to objectify, but rather as someone who mattered and deserved to be treated with dignity, not like animals in a zoo.
There are no photos primarily because we understood what the agencies were saying about the dignity of the human soul, and honestly, when you are there on those streets, the last thing you want to do is to break out a camera and start taking pictures of people who have either given up on life or have been told they no longer matter.
The 'pictures' of those we worked with must be relayed through words. There is power in story, and in telling the stories we are able to do far more good than simply showing the despair and brokenness on film.
The second reason there are no pictures is because of the work itself. It was hard work. There was no 'down time' when working on Skid Row. Our students left their cameras in our vehicles and focused on the work at hand. I am proud of them for understanding both the importance of not trivializing these precious lives by running around like tourists taking pictures and for working so hard that they didn't think of bringing their cameras with them because they knew the work required their undivided attention.
Imagine the scene: Students walking down Skid Row. A man, pushing a cart, dressed in rags, limping along because his knees are shot and he's simply exhausted from another day on the streets, and then a student standing from a distance taking pictures. Or, imagine stumbling across a group of homeless, laying on the ground, some seated against a building, wrapped in newspapers, living in squalor, and then a group of students stopping to take their picture.
It would be surreal. In appropriate. Dehumanizing.
At the end of the day, we had a choice-we could take pictures or we could take time to talk and to listen. We could capture the images on film, but in doing so, lose any credibility with those we came to serve.
Our students chose to engage. To talk. To listen. To pray with and pray for those we encountered on Skid Row. I am blessed by their courage and their sensitivity.
You see-most of the people we talked to on Skid Row had 'heard it all and seen it all' before. Groups, driving in from the suburbs, taking pictures, being polite, sometimes condescending to actually talk, but rarely if ever sticking around to listen and converse. I heard variations on this from several Skid Row residents. A degree of cynicism is definitely present. I guess when you are dehumanized or seen as some kind of odd curiosity or side-show...well, after awhile, a certain amount of cynicism would be natural. One man said something to the effect of , "Well, guess you folks come down here to do your good works."
I responded, "No sir, just came down here to see how you are doing." He seemed to appreciate that. Conversation followed. Prayer followed. I guess he just needed to know we weren't there to pat him on the back, tell him we 'understood,' that we would 'remember him in prayer' and then move on.
When you live on Skid Row, after awhile, you learn the drill. Some come to take pictures to show others the 'good work' they were doing. Some blow in like a special forces team, large groups swooping in, preaching the Four Spiritual Laws, pushing for a decision, then hightailing it out. Others come to simply hand out some food and move along. Few stay. Few listen. They are America's 'lepers' of Jesus' day. Best not to get too close. That kind of thing.
But His love compels us to do so much more than take pictures or do our 'religious duties.' As counterintuitive as it sounds, His love compels us to want to stay, to connect.
So our 'pictures' from Skid Row in the stories that will follow are memories of people etched in our minds. Whether it was the sun-weathered, elderly woman barely moving along the side walk in her broken down wheel chair or the dazed young man shuffling around the middle of the street, wandering aimlessly, looking for something that probably made sense only to him, the images stick. Sometimes it just seemed like a sea of broken people. Sensory overload. Too many people and you realize you can't 'fix' it all. Overwhelming.
But there was Light in the darkness, Hope in the midst of despair. We could see glimpses of it here and there. People of faith. People open to the Gospel. People just longing to be touched and reminded that they mattered, that they were people too, that we are all in this together.
And some of that light certainly came from our students. I cannot begin to explain how proud I am of them. They did nothing for show. They fleshed out Christ and Gospel and reached out way beyond most people's comfort zones. They did this because they were following His lead. He cares for these people and they did as well.
I cannot think of any picture or collection of pictures that could possibly do justice to the people of Skid Row. To understand on some meaningful level, one has to be on the streets with the people. There is a distinct texture and flow and feel and smell...it has to be experienced.
As stories of Skid Row are shared in future posts, I thought you should know this. You won't see pictures. We did not take pictures of someone in our group sharing the Gospel with a homeless person, or praying over a homeless person-this is no religious show.
But you will hear stories, stories of people who themselves have countless stories, and people who, like you and me, are made in the Image of God. They matter to Him and they matter to us now. And it is my prayer, that after reading some of their stories, they will matter more to you as well.
Another common question revolved around pictures. "Where are the pictures of the homeless people? You went on this mission trip and most of the pictures I've seen are students apparently having fun. Where are the homeless?"
I understand this question on one level. We've emphasized from the beginning of this endeavor that this was not a spiritual field trip, or a tourist event, but rather hard work in some pretty tough places and rough conditions. People want to see for themselves what it's like. And, some want to see if the students truly worked.
I've been giving a chronological report, day by day, of what we did in Los Angeles, and now that we are in that part of the story where the homeless are the ministry, there is a natural curiosity. I've had people ask me if Skid Row is in fact a real place or if it's just a term used for people who are down and out.
It is a real place. A real place with real people. Masses of people. The 'disposable ones.'
So where are the pictures?
You won't see any. There are two reasons for this. First and foremost, the agencies we worked with wanted us to see the homeless not as projects, but as people-not as something to objectify, but rather as someone who mattered and deserved to be treated with dignity, not like animals in a zoo.
There are no photos primarily because we understood what the agencies were saying about the dignity of the human soul, and honestly, when you are there on those streets, the last thing you want to do is to break out a camera and start taking pictures of people who have either given up on life or have been told they no longer matter.
The 'pictures' of those we worked with must be relayed through words. There is power in story, and in telling the stories we are able to do far more good than simply showing the despair and brokenness on film.
The second reason there are no pictures is because of the work itself. It was hard work. There was no 'down time' when working on Skid Row. Our students left their cameras in our vehicles and focused on the work at hand. I am proud of them for understanding both the importance of not trivializing these precious lives by running around like tourists taking pictures and for working so hard that they didn't think of bringing their cameras with them because they knew the work required their undivided attention.
Imagine the scene: Students walking down Skid Row. A man, pushing a cart, dressed in rags, limping along because his knees are shot and he's simply exhausted from another day on the streets, and then a student standing from a distance taking pictures. Or, imagine stumbling across a group of homeless, laying on the ground, some seated against a building, wrapped in newspapers, living in squalor, and then a group of students stopping to take their picture.
It would be surreal. In appropriate. Dehumanizing.
At the end of the day, we had a choice-we could take pictures or we could take time to talk and to listen. We could capture the images on film, but in doing so, lose any credibility with those we came to serve.
Our students chose to engage. To talk. To listen. To pray with and pray for those we encountered on Skid Row. I am blessed by their courage and their sensitivity.
You see-most of the people we talked to on Skid Row had 'heard it all and seen it all' before. Groups, driving in from the suburbs, taking pictures, being polite, sometimes condescending to actually talk, but rarely if ever sticking around to listen and converse. I heard variations on this from several Skid Row residents. A degree of cynicism is definitely present. I guess when you are dehumanized or seen as some kind of odd curiosity or side-show...well, after awhile, a certain amount of cynicism would be natural. One man said something to the effect of , "Well, guess you folks come down here to do your good works."
I responded, "No sir, just came down here to see how you are doing." He seemed to appreciate that. Conversation followed. Prayer followed. I guess he just needed to know we weren't there to pat him on the back, tell him we 'understood,' that we would 'remember him in prayer' and then move on.
When you live on Skid Row, after awhile, you learn the drill. Some come to take pictures to show others the 'good work' they were doing. Some blow in like a special forces team, large groups swooping in, preaching the Four Spiritual Laws, pushing for a decision, then hightailing it out. Others come to simply hand out some food and move along. Few stay. Few listen. They are America's 'lepers' of Jesus' day. Best not to get too close. That kind of thing.
But His love compels us to do so much more than take pictures or do our 'religious duties.' As counterintuitive as it sounds, His love compels us to want to stay, to connect.
So our 'pictures' from Skid Row in the stories that will follow are memories of people etched in our minds. Whether it was the sun-weathered, elderly woman barely moving along the side walk in her broken down wheel chair or the dazed young man shuffling around the middle of the street, wandering aimlessly, looking for something that probably made sense only to him, the images stick. Sometimes it just seemed like a sea of broken people. Sensory overload. Too many people and you realize you can't 'fix' it all. Overwhelming.
But there was Light in the darkness, Hope in the midst of despair. We could see glimpses of it here and there. People of faith. People open to the Gospel. People just longing to be touched and reminded that they mattered, that they were people too, that we are all in this together.
And some of that light certainly came from our students. I cannot begin to explain how proud I am of them. They did nothing for show. They fleshed out Christ and Gospel and reached out way beyond most people's comfort zones. They did this because they were following His lead. He cares for these people and they did as well.
I cannot think of any picture or collection of pictures that could possibly do justice to the people of Skid Row. To understand on some meaningful level, one has to be on the streets with the people. There is a distinct texture and flow and feel and smell...it has to be experienced.
As stories of Skid Row are shared in future posts, I thought you should know this. You won't see pictures. We did not take pictures of someone in our group sharing the Gospel with a homeless person, or praying over a homeless person-this is no religious show.
But you will hear stories, stories of people who themselves have countless stories, and people who, like you and me, are made in the Image of God. They matter to Him and they matter to us now. And it is my prayer, that after reading some of their stories, they will matter more to you as well.
Thursday Night: Hope Gardens-Desiree, A Few Bad Choices, and Jesus
Rarely do you get the opportunity to see the other side of the story when it comes to the homeless. By that, I mean the stories of those who come off the streets, enter into programs, and are preparing to re-enter society. Hope Gardens is this amazing transitional community on the outskirts of LA, hidden in the mountains, off the beaten path...a place where women and their children are able to stay, receive job training (many are already working in jobs, saving money to get back on their feet so they can afford housing) and experience things you and I take for granted.
In Los Angeles, a woman on the streets has a greater than 80% chance of being assaulted if she is on the streets for two weeks. Union Rescue focuses on getting women and children off the streets. But it's not just getting them off the streets, it is protecting them (many wind up on the streets running for safety from abusive males), nurturing them, preparing them to re-enter society, and above all, protecting the children.
Our initial assignment was to tutor students. We were running on little sleep, little steam left after a couple of hours sleep the night before and working at Union in the morning. Our job description changed, however, and we discovered that we would be doing manual labor. Hope Gardens was going to remodel and repair some things, and they needed the help. So, being flexible, the students said, "Sure, whatever you need."
We were broken into two groups. I was in the "clean out the kitchen" crew-and the others were cleaning out a large storage shed. A crew from John Tesh productions was there. I was introduced to the two men and was told they were shooting a story about Hope Gardens. We never saw them after that-because we weren't the story. The story is Hope Gardens and the women and children who stay there (approximately 80) and what God is doing in that place.
So, for several hours we scrubbed floors, cleaned cabinets, moved buckets of paint, moved whatever they wanted...good old fashioned manual labor.
The highlight of the day came at dinner. We were able to eat with the women and their children. Such precious kids. They never chose this life. Never chose the streets. But the time on Skid Row will always be a part of their story, just as the Grace of God will forever be a part of their story, as Hope Gardens will be a part of their story.
At dinner there was a Birthday celebration for one young girl. I tried to imagine what life was like for this mother and her children on the streets. I thought of my own children, my own wife, and couldn't imagine them going through that.
I was at the end of the food line and watched as our students (always proud of them) broke into groups to sit with various families-to listen to their stories, to pray with and for them, to talk about God with them...they made friends quickly. I credit that to God working in their lives and giving them a love for people not like them. When it was time for me to get my food, there was only one table without a student, so I went to that table. Two African American women were at the table with their children. One was leaving as soon as I asked if I could sit down (and I wondered, "do I have this effect on people or was this just awkward timing?"). The one staying, Desiree, said, 'Sure, have a seat," and then proceeded to introduce herself and her son.
Desiree didn't 'look' like a homeless person-didn't 'sound' like a person who was on the streets. In fact-most of these women looked like anyone you might meet at the grocery store or any place else you frequent. I know this sounds like I'm stereotyping, but that's the point-these women did not fit a preconceived 'mold'-and their stories are all stories of triumph.
I tried to engage her son in conversation-he was rather quiet and reserved. I imagined he was probably wary of strangers-and for good reason. I tried multiple times and multiple ways to engage him, but little response, until I asked about sports.
Marcus, who is thirteen years old, loves basketball. Once that topic came up, he opened up a bit-but not much. His mother explained he doesn't talk a lot to most people-just her and some of his friends at Hope Gardens. I wondered what Marcus had seen. What had happened in his life.
I wondered about Desiree's story. It's the elephant in the room-you want to find out her story so you can find out about her relationship with God and what she's been through-how to pray for her-that kind of thing. And...she knows that I know she was homeless, but bringing the whole thing up is a bit challenging.
We made small talk. She was originally from New York City. She tells me she loves New York. She's wearing a rather artsy I LOVE NY T-Shirt-just to underscore that NYC is her true home. She said: "New York is so alive, so full of life and excitement-so much to see there. The people are real...not like here..." She has family in Queens. She wants to go back sometime soon after she transitions after Hope Gardens to go back to family and work there.
She asks me where I'm from. I tell her "San Antonio" and she asks what it's like there-and asks if the people are friendly, asks if there is much to do in San Antonio. I tell her not nearly as much to do as New York, but the city is friendly.
She knows about the Riverwalk and tells me "that's one place on my list of places I have to see. But I really, really want to go to Europe. France particularly. Paris specifically." She's a vivacious person and her face is lighting up as she tells about her dreams. 'Want to go to Paris, but also London, and of course Spain...I could probably live in Paris, never come back..."
Of course, I have other questions-things I'd like to know. This woman looks and talks like someone who might be in a position of management at some successful company...How did she get to the streets of LA from NYC? She continues to talk...
"Well, I miss New York, but it's O.K. here. It's a lot better than Phoenix."
I can tell by the way she pronounces Phoenix that Phoenix is a sore spot.
"How did you get to Phoenix from New York?"
"Job transfer."
"Why didn't you like Phoenix?"
"Hot place, cold people." She didn't skip a beat. Obviously Phoenix was not a pleasant memory. I don't think that was a 'stock answer' from her-she's a sharp person with a sharp mind. Great quote.
I am just at a loss for how she wound up...here.
She continued..."So, I didn't like Phoenix, but I met this man...." She looks at her son, Marcus, who, still being quiet, somewhat lowers his head
"And...I made some bad choices. Those choices led me to Los Angeles. Those choices led me and him to the streets. They led us here. I won't make any excuses. I was wrong and we paid for my choices."
It's hard to know what to say at this point. I wanted to know her story, wondering where to start, and she just bypassed that process and started sharing.
"But God has been good to us and we are getting a new start. It's not perfect here, but my son is safe and I am safe and we're getting back on our feet. That's the main thing. He is my responsibility and nothing like that is ever going to happen to him again."
I don't know what 'that' is-but I do notice that Marcus raises his head slightly and looks at his mom with a sense of...trust? belief? ...hoping that it never does happen again? I can't tell. I do not get the sense I should ask what 'that' was. Desiree is largely an open book and if she wanted me to know that information, she would have told me. I leave well enough alone.
She's said enough already, more than most would say, and she's taken ownership of whatever these decisions were, and shares how God has changed her life.
She tells me about a discipleship class she went through that God used to really transform her. She talks of God and Gospel and new beginnings. This woman who has been through, well, I don't know all the details but I know she's been through a lot, and yet she radiates. She is ready to move forward.
I tell her that I am glad she and Marcus are safe at Hope Gardens. I ask her if I can pray for her and Marcus, and if so, how should I pray?
She is direct, as New Yorkers are prone to be: "Pray that I will continue to follow Christ as I should. That young man (pointing to Marcus) is my life, my responsibility, and I don't ever want to fail him again."
I start to say, "O.K., let's pray" but she continues...
"You see, I just want to see places, go places, I'm a free spirit. But it's that free spirit that got me into this mess. I just need to stay focused for him (pointing to Marcus again)-because he deserves that. Once he goes off to college (she's already sure he'll go to college) and once he's on his own, I want to take off and just go. I don't do well staying in one place very long."
And I start to understand more of the story-and the prayer request. I don't know if Marcus was 'planned' or not. I don't know if Marcus ever had a father figure in his life. I do know that it took this horrific experience, making a series of bad decisions, losing her job, winding up on the streets of LA for Desiree to rethink her free spirited ways and start living for more than the moment-but rather for someone else, someone she loves deeply, and who loves her deeply, her son.
There is this moment of silence. She looks at me as if to say, "Pray that I am the woman God wants me to be...because I know my shadow side."
We all have a shadow side-that default mode we would shift into were it not for the grace of God. She is aware hers.
I look at Marcus, wondering how he's taking all this in, his mom so transparent about everything right there in front of him to a complete stranger. Marcus says, "And thank God for us being safe."
So we pray. Handshakes are exchanged. She has to get Marcus back to the room-he has homework. She has things to do as well, responsibilities.
Before she leaves, she asks me, 'Did you hear about what happened here in December? With the wildfires?"
I had heard the story from Susana, the operations manager at Hope Gardens, but wanted to hear Desirees take. So I just listen.
"Yeah, when the wildfires were all over these mountains, everything was burned. Everything. People losing their houses. Losing everything. They evacuated us. I thought, Lord no...don't want to lose everything again...but the craziest thing happened. Everything on this side of the mountain was burned except this place. The fire stopped at the gates. The firemen set up here and they said the winds shifted. Not one thing was burned at this place. Kind of makes you wonder, doesn't it?"
I tell her God was very gracious to everyone at Hope Gardens. She tells me she knows, and has been very gracious to her many times since she came to LA. And with that, she leaves.
It's hard to get Desiree and Marcus out of my mind. In about eight months or so she'll be 'free' -just her and Marcus on their own. I wonder if she'll honor that commitment to him. I wonder if she'll make wise choices. I wonder if Marcus will go to college? I wonder if the cycle will be broken? I wonder if in ten years Desiree will be living in Paris, doing some kind of work, or if she'll be back with family in New York-or, I wonder if she will make 'that' bad decision again? I pray not.
And I'll never know on this side of eternity. But I do know, that for a moment in time, I met someone who had a life, lost it all, took responsibility for it, and was looking to God to put all the pieces back together again. I met someone who stopped dreaming and was dreaming again. I met someone who was once on the streets with her son and was now talking about her son going to college. I met someone who had committed her life to Christ-and had made a fresh commitment to put the needs of her son first.
And I met a young man who I am sure is hoping and praying that everything his mother talked about is true.
In Los Angeles, a woman on the streets has a greater than 80% chance of being assaulted if she is on the streets for two weeks. Union Rescue focuses on getting women and children off the streets. But it's not just getting them off the streets, it is protecting them (many wind up on the streets running for safety from abusive males), nurturing them, preparing them to re-enter society, and above all, protecting the children.
Our initial assignment was to tutor students. We were running on little sleep, little steam left after a couple of hours sleep the night before and working at Union in the morning. Our job description changed, however, and we discovered that we would be doing manual labor. Hope Gardens was going to remodel and repair some things, and they needed the help. So, being flexible, the students said, "Sure, whatever you need."
We were broken into two groups. I was in the "clean out the kitchen" crew-and the others were cleaning out a large storage shed. A crew from John Tesh productions was there. I was introduced to the two men and was told they were shooting a story about Hope Gardens. We never saw them after that-because we weren't the story. The story is Hope Gardens and the women and children who stay there (approximately 80) and what God is doing in that place.
So, for several hours we scrubbed floors, cleaned cabinets, moved buckets of paint, moved whatever they wanted...good old fashioned manual labor.
The highlight of the day came at dinner. We were able to eat with the women and their children. Such precious kids. They never chose this life. Never chose the streets. But the time on Skid Row will always be a part of their story, just as the Grace of God will forever be a part of their story, as Hope Gardens will be a part of their story.
At dinner there was a Birthday celebration for one young girl. I tried to imagine what life was like for this mother and her children on the streets. I thought of my own children, my own wife, and couldn't imagine them going through that.
I was at the end of the food line and watched as our students (always proud of them) broke into groups to sit with various families-to listen to their stories, to pray with and for them, to talk about God with them...they made friends quickly. I credit that to God working in their lives and giving them a love for people not like them. When it was time for me to get my food, there was only one table without a student, so I went to that table. Two African American women were at the table with their children. One was leaving as soon as I asked if I could sit down (and I wondered, "do I have this effect on people or was this just awkward timing?"). The one staying, Desiree, said, 'Sure, have a seat," and then proceeded to introduce herself and her son.
Desiree didn't 'look' like a homeless person-didn't 'sound' like a person who was on the streets. In fact-most of these women looked like anyone you might meet at the grocery store or any place else you frequent. I know this sounds like I'm stereotyping, but that's the point-these women did not fit a preconceived 'mold'-and their stories are all stories of triumph.
I tried to engage her son in conversation-he was rather quiet and reserved. I imagined he was probably wary of strangers-and for good reason. I tried multiple times and multiple ways to engage him, but little response, until I asked about sports.
Marcus, who is thirteen years old, loves basketball. Once that topic came up, he opened up a bit-but not much. His mother explained he doesn't talk a lot to most people-just her and some of his friends at Hope Gardens. I wondered what Marcus had seen. What had happened in his life.
I wondered about Desiree's story. It's the elephant in the room-you want to find out her story so you can find out about her relationship with God and what she's been through-how to pray for her-that kind of thing. And...she knows that I know she was homeless, but bringing the whole thing up is a bit challenging.
We made small talk. She was originally from New York City. She tells me she loves New York. She's wearing a rather artsy I LOVE NY T-Shirt-just to underscore that NYC is her true home. She said: "New York is so alive, so full of life and excitement-so much to see there. The people are real...not like here..." She has family in Queens. She wants to go back sometime soon after she transitions after Hope Gardens to go back to family and work there.
She asks me where I'm from. I tell her "San Antonio" and she asks what it's like there-and asks if the people are friendly, asks if there is much to do in San Antonio. I tell her not nearly as much to do as New York, but the city is friendly.
She knows about the Riverwalk and tells me "that's one place on my list of places I have to see. But I really, really want to go to Europe. France particularly. Paris specifically." She's a vivacious person and her face is lighting up as she tells about her dreams. 'Want to go to Paris, but also London, and of course Spain...I could probably live in Paris, never come back..."
Of course, I have other questions-things I'd like to know. This woman looks and talks like someone who might be in a position of management at some successful company...How did she get to the streets of LA from NYC? She continues to talk...
"Well, I miss New York, but it's O.K. here. It's a lot better than Phoenix."
I can tell by the way she pronounces Phoenix that Phoenix is a sore spot.
"How did you get to Phoenix from New York?"
"Job transfer."
"Why didn't you like Phoenix?"
"Hot place, cold people." She didn't skip a beat. Obviously Phoenix was not a pleasant memory. I don't think that was a 'stock answer' from her-she's a sharp person with a sharp mind. Great quote.
I am just at a loss for how she wound up...here.
She continued..."So, I didn't like Phoenix, but I met this man...." She looks at her son, Marcus, who, still being quiet, somewhat lowers his head
"And...I made some bad choices. Those choices led me to Los Angeles. Those choices led me and him to the streets. They led us here. I won't make any excuses. I was wrong and we paid for my choices."
It's hard to know what to say at this point. I wanted to know her story, wondering where to start, and she just bypassed that process and started sharing.
"But God has been good to us and we are getting a new start. It's not perfect here, but my son is safe and I am safe and we're getting back on our feet. That's the main thing. He is my responsibility and nothing like that is ever going to happen to him again."
I don't know what 'that' is-but I do notice that Marcus raises his head slightly and looks at his mom with a sense of...trust? belief? ...hoping that it never does happen again? I can't tell. I do not get the sense I should ask what 'that' was. Desiree is largely an open book and if she wanted me to know that information, she would have told me. I leave well enough alone.
She's said enough already, more than most would say, and she's taken ownership of whatever these decisions were, and shares how God has changed her life.
She tells me about a discipleship class she went through that God used to really transform her. She talks of God and Gospel and new beginnings. This woman who has been through, well, I don't know all the details but I know she's been through a lot, and yet she radiates. She is ready to move forward.
I tell her that I am glad she and Marcus are safe at Hope Gardens. I ask her if I can pray for her and Marcus, and if so, how should I pray?
She is direct, as New Yorkers are prone to be: "Pray that I will continue to follow Christ as I should. That young man (pointing to Marcus) is my life, my responsibility, and I don't ever want to fail him again."
I start to say, "O.K., let's pray" but she continues...
"You see, I just want to see places, go places, I'm a free spirit. But it's that free spirit that got me into this mess. I just need to stay focused for him (pointing to Marcus again)-because he deserves that. Once he goes off to college (she's already sure he'll go to college) and once he's on his own, I want to take off and just go. I don't do well staying in one place very long."
And I start to understand more of the story-and the prayer request. I don't know if Marcus was 'planned' or not. I don't know if Marcus ever had a father figure in his life. I do know that it took this horrific experience, making a series of bad decisions, losing her job, winding up on the streets of LA for Desiree to rethink her free spirited ways and start living for more than the moment-but rather for someone else, someone she loves deeply, and who loves her deeply, her son.
There is this moment of silence. She looks at me as if to say, "Pray that I am the woman God wants me to be...because I know my shadow side."
We all have a shadow side-that default mode we would shift into were it not for the grace of God. She is aware hers.
I look at Marcus, wondering how he's taking all this in, his mom so transparent about everything right there in front of him to a complete stranger. Marcus says, "And thank God for us being safe."
So we pray. Handshakes are exchanged. She has to get Marcus back to the room-he has homework. She has things to do as well, responsibilities.
Before she leaves, she asks me, 'Did you hear about what happened here in December? With the wildfires?"
I had heard the story from Susana, the operations manager at Hope Gardens, but wanted to hear Desirees take. So I just listen.
"Yeah, when the wildfires were all over these mountains, everything was burned. Everything. People losing their houses. Losing everything. They evacuated us. I thought, Lord no...don't want to lose everything again...but the craziest thing happened. Everything on this side of the mountain was burned except this place. The fire stopped at the gates. The firemen set up here and they said the winds shifted. Not one thing was burned at this place. Kind of makes you wonder, doesn't it?"
I tell her God was very gracious to everyone at Hope Gardens. She tells me she knows, and has been very gracious to her many times since she came to LA. And with that, she leaves.
It's hard to get Desiree and Marcus out of my mind. In about eight months or so she'll be 'free' -just her and Marcus on their own. I wonder if she'll honor that commitment to him. I wonder if she'll make wise choices. I wonder if Marcus will go to college? I wonder if the cycle will be broken? I wonder if in ten years Desiree will be living in Paris, doing some kind of work, or if she'll be back with family in New York-or, I wonder if she will make 'that' bad decision again? I pray not.
And I'll never know on this side of eternity. But I do know, that for a moment in time, I met someone who had a life, lost it all, took responsibility for it, and was looking to God to put all the pieces back together again. I met someone who stopped dreaming and was dreaming again. I met someone who was once on the streets with her son and was now talking about her son going to college. I met someone who had committed her life to Christ-and had made a fresh commitment to put the needs of her son first.
And I met a young man who I am sure is hoping and praying that everything his mother talked about is true.
Friday Morning: School on Wheels-Pursuing Those Who Wander
Friday morning just 'felt' early. We had some sleep the night before. I guess the week was catching up. However tired I felt, my eagerness to finally see this "School on Wheels" and to work there energized me.
School on Wheels is a secular agency that educates homeless children. Their mission is to work with children, to provide a safe environment where they can continue their education until their family (usually it's just a mother and her child or children) is able to gain access to a school. They are amazing people. The church we were connecting with in Los Angeles, Mosaic, connects with many non-profits in Los Angeles, specifically agencies that are doing good work to serve people. More on that later.
I envisioned this school that was literally on wheels-perhaps a remodeled old school bus parked on Skid Row. I was surprised when we arrived to find it was in a storefront, on Skid Row, and once inside, to discover that this place was a well appointed tutoring station.
Originally we thought we would be tutoring children. However, the kids would not be arriving until the afternoon. Our assignment was to pack some 400 new, donated backpacks with a lot of nice, new, donated school supplies.
The man who runs the agency, Matt Raab, is an amazing individual. His love for children and his passion for education and his compassion for people is tangible. He welcomed us with bagels and drinks and showed us around and told us what they did.
We watched a video-stories from homeless children about the impact School on Wheels had on their lives, and what it was like to be homeless as a child. It was amazing to see so many children talk so passionately about how important school was to them and how desperately they wanted to stay in school and graduate, then go to college. Some wanted to be policemen, some doctors. Some just wanted to have a good job so the family would never live on the streets again. These kids were not reading lines-this was 'straight from the gut' talk. These kids wanted hope. They knew education was valuable. They wanted to break free from this cycle they were in.
They don't choose this life. In most cases, their mothers did not choose this life. Story after story showed women who just wanted their child to be safe and to somehow find housing and a job. These mothers were not trying to 'work the system.' The common thing in most all interviews was this sense of fear, mixed with shame and confusion as to being in that position-and most all of that fear and anxiety was directed towards the children.
Skid Row is a dangerous place for adult men. It's a very dangerous place for women and children.
Matt, a man in his early thirties, is using his gifts and abilities to invest in the lives of the forgotten. It's hard to be around a person like Matt and not be impressed by the sense of commitment he and his staff have for these children and their families.
As we watched the video, we heard stories from children, and one in particular stood out. This young man, twelve I believe, spoke of what it was like to be homeless, to always be on the move, to never have a sense of 'belonging.' He sounded like an adult, innocence long lost, I can only imagine what he's seen, what he's been through at that age. At one point in the video he compares life to a chess match, and paraphrasing, he said something to the effect of: "I'm the oldest. I have to watch out for my family. It's like in chess. You need to make the right move. Every move matters. If you make a wrong move, bad things can happen."
He's just a child-and I thought of my own twelve year old at that time and this boy's story just ate at me. Life as chess game, carefully making every move-just to be safe. Just to make sure the proverbial wheels don't fall off. The child watching out for the family.
So after watching this video and learning more of what School on Wheels does (and after wiping away a lot of tears streaming down my face-and I know others were doing the same), we were formed into an assembly line and we spent the next 2 and a half hours stuffing as many bags as we could-not randomly, but making sure each bag had exactly what it needed for a student to go to school. Pencils, notebooks, scissors, markers, pencil sharpeners, etc... and this is what we did.
But something interesting was taking place. As we stuffed the bags, we did not see this as busy work, or meaningless work, because we knew that each bag represented a homeless child. We might not ever meet that child, but that bag, so nice, so clean, so full of supplies, would be important to each child, so what we were doing became important to us-to do it correctly, to make sure no kid was short-changed.
While we were there, a mother came in with one of the younger students. Matt unlocked the door and the mother and child came in. Safety. He sat down to talk with them, then one of his assistants came by as well. I didn't know what they were talking about, couldn't hear from where I was standing, but I could see.
I saw this young man come to life. He WANTED to stay. He wanted class to start NOW. He didn't want to go back-back OUT THERE.
When it was noon, it was time for us to leave. We did not finish all 400 bags, but made a huge dent. Another volunteer group was coming in later that week and their work would be easy and the bags would be ready in time.
As we left School on Wheels, many things stuck with me-but three things in particular:
1) Matt made a statement about how they track the kids. If one goes missing, they go to find that child so they can continue working with them, so they can watch out for that child. In other words, when times get even tougher in a very tough place, they don't give up on the children, or the family. They continue to pursue. It reminded me of the way God pursues us when we were lost and far from Him. This kind of commitment is rare these days. I commend Matt and the staff at School on Wheels for making that commitment to place and to people and sticking to it. From talking to him, I can see how it can be a discouraging thing at times. So much uncertainty, and so much danger out there, but someone has to be pursuing these families and watching out for these kids. They are one of those few who do just that.
2) My friend from Mosaic, Adrian, is an amazing guy. He is the "Serve LA" pastor, and his job description basically can be summed up by saying: "Interface with as many non-Christian non-profit service entities that are doing good and meaningful work as possible to develop relationships with them. Through serving with them, the Gospel will flow through those relational lines." Adrian's job is to connect followers of Christ in the church to those who may not know Him and to develop relationships through service that God will use for His Glory and the Kingdom. Matt asked a question towards the end of our time, one that caught me off guard. He said, 'Hey-you guys were amazing. Forgive me, but I can't remember, how did you find out about us?" I told him "Adrian, from Mosaic connected us with you." Immediately he said,'Oh, Adrian...man, that guy is incredible.We really like Adrian around here. He's amazing. Mosaic has some incredible people. We really like working with them."
Matt may not know the 'why' these people from Mosaic he has met, and Adrian in particular, are so 'amazing'-but I do-Matt and his co-workers are seeing Christ in the lives of these Christians who are coming alongside them. And as I listened to him, I wondered, "How many 'secular' agencies do I know have positive things to say about a church or followers of Christ because of their authenticity, love and service? I don't know the answer to that question, but I do believe we (the church) should ideally be seen as a blessing by those who may not know Him.
3) So this leads to the third take away for me: Sometimes we followers of Christ think that the only agencies we can or should connect with (agencies that are service agencies) must be Christian agencies. I liked Mosaic's strategy. Through serving in this agency, by serving these people, relationships are formed, and through those relationships, the Gospel travels. I didn't see (and from what I understand there is not one) a 'Christian" School on Wheels. But by being intentional, Gospel and Christ are introduced into that context by followers of Christ who come alongside those doing good work to support their efforts and to become their friend-and this too speaks.
We returned to Los Angeles because we sensed that God was calling us to invest in a place-not to be spiritual tourists going from one place to the next each year. If we are able to go back to Los Angeles next year, we plan on spending perhaps half of our time with School on Wheels, to invest in the children, and to invest in those who are serving them.
Because we see the power of coming alongside someone and loving them, serving with them, and how God uses such things to bring people to Himself.
If you want to learn more about School on Wheels, and perhaps do something to make a difference-check out their website: http://www.schoolonwheels.org/
If you email them, tell Matt that Kevin from San Antonio (the guy who brought the college students from Texas to stuff backpacks) said 'hello'-and tell him you've heard amazing things about what they are doing. Join Adrian, join us in developing relationships that matter in so many ways-in forming relationships that God will use in amazing ways.
These kids matter, and so do Matt and his staff-they all matter to God, so they should all matter to us.
School on Wheels is a secular agency that educates homeless children. Their mission is to work with children, to provide a safe environment where they can continue their education until their family (usually it's just a mother and her child or children) is able to gain access to a school. They are amazing people. The church we were connecting with in Los Angeles, Mosaic, connects with many non-profits in Los Angeles, specifically agencies that are doing good work to serve people. More on that later.
I envisioned this school that was literally on wheels-perhaps a remodeled old school bus parked on Skid Row. I was surprised when we arrived to find it was in a storefront, on Skid Row, and once inside, to discover that this place was a well appointed tutoring station.
Originally we thought we would be tutoring children. However, the kids would not be arriving until the afternoon. Our assignment was to pack some 400 new, donated backpacks with a lot of nice, new, donated school supplies.
The man who runs the agency, Matt Raab, is an amazing individual. His love for children and his passion for education and his compassion for people is tangible. He welcomed us with bagels and drinks and showed us around and told us what they did.
We watched a video-stories from homeless children about the impact School on Wheels had on their lives, and what it was like to be homeless as a child. It was amazing to see so many children talk so passionately about how important school was to them and how desperately they wanted to stay in school and graduate, then go to college. Some wanted to be policemen, some doctors. Some just wanted to have a good job so the family would never live on the streets again. These kids were not reading lines-this was 'straight from the gut' talk. These kids wanted hope. They knew education was valuable. They wanted to break free from this cycle they were in.
They don't choose this life. In most cases, their mothers did not choose this life. Story after story showed women who just wanted their child to be safe and to somehow find housing and a job. These mothers were not trying to 'work the system.' The common thing in most all interviews was this sense of fear, mixed with shame and confusion as to being in that position-and most all of that fear and anxiety was directed towards the children.
Skid Row is a dangerous place for adult men. It's a very dangerous place for women and children.
Matt, a man in his early thirties, is using his gifts and abilities to invest in the lives of the forgotten. It's hard to be around a person like Matt and not be impressed by the sense of commitment he and his staff have for these children and their families.
As we watched the video, we heard stories from children, and one in particular stood out. This young man, twelve I believe, spoke of what it was like to be homeless, to always be on the move, to never have a sense of 'belonging.' He sounded like an adult, innocence long lost, I can only imagine what he's seen, what he's been through at that age. At one point in the video he compares life to a chess match, and paraphrasing, he said something to the effect of: "I'm the oldest. I have to watch out for my family. It's like in chess. You need to make the right move. Every move matters. If you make a wrong move, bad things can happen."
He's just a child-and I thought of my own twelve year old at that time and this boy's story just ate at me. Life as chess game, carefully making every move-just to be safe. Just to make sure the proverbial wheels don't fall off. The child watching out for the family.
So after watching this video and learning more of what School on Wheels does (and after wiping away a lot of tears streaming down my face-and I know others were doing the same), we were formed into an assembly line and we spent the next 2 and a half hours stuffing as many bags as we could-not randomly, but making sure each bag had exactly what it needed for a student to go to school. Pencils, notebooks, scissors, markers, pencil sharpeners, etc... and this is what we did.
But something interesting was taking place. As we stuffed the bags, we did not see this as busy work, or meaningless work, because we knew that each bag represented a homeless child. We might not ever meet that child, but that bag, so nice, so clean, so full of supplies, would be important to each child, so what we were doing became important to us-to do it correctly, to make sure no kid was short-changed.
While we were there, a mother came in with one of the younger students. Matt unlocked the door and the mother and child came in. Safety. He sat down to talk with them, then one of his assistants came by as well. I didn't know what they were talking about, couldn't hear from where I was standing, but I could see.
I saw this young man come to life. He WANTED to stay. He wanted class to start NOW. He didn't want to go back-back OUT THERE.
When it was noon, it was time for us to leave. We did not finish all 400 bags, but made a huge dent. Another volunteer group was coming in later that week and their work would be easy and the bags would be ready in time.
As we left School on Wheels, many things stuck with me-but three things in particular:
1) Matt made a statement about how they track the kids. If one goes missing, they go to find that child so they can continue working with them, so they can watch out for that child. In other words, when times get even tougher in a very tough place, they don't give up on the children, or the family. They continue to pursue. It reminded me of the way God pursues us when we were lost and far from Him. This kind of commitment is rare these days. I commend Matt and the staff at School on Wheels for making that commitment to place and to people and sticking to it. From talking to him, I can see how it can be a discouraging thing at times. So much uncertainty, and so much danger out there, but someone has to be pursuing these families and watching out for these kids. They are one of those few who do just that.
2) My friend from Mosaic, Adrian, is an amazing guy. He is the "Serve LA" pastor, and his job description basically can be summed up by saying: "Interface with as many non-Christian non-profit service entities that are doing good and meaningful work as possible to develop relationships with them. Through serving with them, the Gospel will flow through those relational lines." Adrian's job is to connect followers of Christ in the church to those who may not know Him and to develop relationships through service that God will use for His Glory and the Kingdom. Matt asked a question towards the end of our time, one that caught me off guard. He said, 'Hey-you guys were amazing. Forgive me, but I can't remember, how did you find out about us?" I told him "Adrian, from Mosaic connected us with you." Immediately he said,'Oh, Adrian...man, that guy is incredible.We really like Adrian around here. He's amazing. Mosaic has some incredible people. We really like working with them."
Matt may not know the 'why' these people from Mosaic he has met, and Adrian in particular, are so 'amazing'-but I do-Matt and his co-workers are seeing Christ in the lives of these Christians who are coming alongside them. And as I listened to him, I wondered, "How many 'secular' agencies do I know have positive things to say about a church or followers of Christ because of their authenticity, love and service? I don't know the answer to that question, but I do believe we (the church) should ideally be seen as a blessing by those who may not know Him.
3) So this leads to the third take away for me: Sometimes we followers of Christ think that the only agencies we can or should connect with (agencies that are service agencies) must be Christian agencies. I liked Mosaic's strategy. Through serving in this agency, by serving these people, relationships are formed, and through those relationships, the Gospel travels. I didn't see (and from what I understand there is not one) a 'Christian" School on Wheels. But by being intentional, Gospel and Christ are introduced into that context by followers of Christ who come alongside those doing good work to support their efforts and to become their friend-and this too speaks.
We returned to Los Angeles because we sensed that God was calling us to invest in a place-not to be spiritual tourists going from one place to the next each year. If we are able to go back to Los Angeles next year, we plan on spending perhaps half of our time with School on Wheels, to invest in the children, and to invest in those who are serving them.
Because we see the power of coming alongside someone and loving them, serving with them, and how God uses such things to bring people to Himself.
If you want to learn more about School on Wheels, and perhaps do something to make a difference-check out their website: http://www.schoolonwheels.org/
If you email them, tell Matt that Kevin from San Antonio (the guy who brought the college students from Texas to stuff backpacks) said 'hello'-and tell him you've heard amazing things about what they are doing. Join Adrian, join us in developing relationships that matter in so many ways-in forming relationships that God will use in amazing ways.
These kids matter, and so do Matt and his staff-they all matter to God, so they should all matter to us.
Friday in South Central LA: GangLand, Luis and MetroKidz
South Central L.A. has a reputation. Gangland. The stuff of the History Channel series. MS 13; the 13th Street Gang, Mexican Mafia...turf wars, A-K 47's, drive-bye's, violence...and it's Friday. You're starting to feel the fatigue of the sleepless nights a bit, and you've just wolfed down a sandwich after School on Wheels and you arrive at the Dream Center barely in time to connect with the MetroKidz team, and you rush, in your vehicles...to...Gangland...for ministry.
That logical part of your mind knows a few things: One, you know you are going to enter a different world, and two, you know that there is a reason South Central is the stuff of movies, national news reports and History Channel episodes-the place has a story, and it's not pretty. But the interesting thing is, as you load up in your vehicles, something else is going on: God is giving you an absolute peace about it all, and so you drive into the heart of South Central, past the many wall murals, through run down neighborhoods and by countless taco stands and small shops, and you aren't thinking about safety, you're wondering what God has in store for this trip because everything about the week has been one continual experience of seeing Him at work. You assume and trust He is also working in South Central.
On the way, a young man from the Dream Center rides in the car with you to give you directions. He's nineteen years old, and his name is Luis. Luis is rather quiet at first, giving directions, but there is something inside of you that just knows this kid has a story, working for the Dream Center, so you ask.
And you find out that this young man from South America has quite a story. He knows about MS-13 because he once belonged. He knows about police because he had been arrested a few times, and once on very serious charges. He has seen too much. Done too much he is not proud of. He speaks with a matter of fact tone as he describes his past life. He understands South Central because he grew up there when his family came to America when he was a child. He talks about the dangers of the Mexican drug cartels and how Al-Qaeda supplies the Mexican gangs with military weapons. He is not speaking in a sensational manner. He just knows these things because he knows how things work in South Central, in "Gangland."
As you drive by murals, he explains how so many of the 'saints' in the images are really demonic. He talks about people worshiping these false idols for protection, for money, for strength in battle. He says that so many people are blinded by the enemy. He wants to see South Central set free from this bondage. He is more concerned with the cycle of violence and false worship and the children. He does not mention a need for more money as a core issue, and you can't help noticing this omission. From his perspective, it's spiritual freedom and physical safety that are the big needs, and he knows that none of these things will happen until Jesus Christ is known, the Jesus he encountered in the Scriptures. The Jesus who is, not the Jesus of folk religion.
The SUV gets quiet as you ask more of his story. He is not comfortable at first, but as he begins to speak of God, and of how Jesus Christ was shared with him, how this Jesus was what he was looking for all along in life, he becomes passionate. He shares the most incredible testimony, and the thing you notice, it's not a testimony about "Luis changing his life," but the focus is all on Jesus Christ and how He reached down to 'the worst sinner' and saved him. He gets very excited as he talks about how filled with joy he was and is because of Christ. He talks about Jesus as if He is the most important treasure a person could have, and again...you take note of this.
He talks about facing down death-namely members of his gang (he was a sect leader) who confronted him after Christ saved him. He talks about a particular individual in that group of seven who came to him, a large man, with tattoos all over his body, and his face-"The Devil" is what he called him, and how he had this moment where he was confronted. "Is this true? You think you are leaving?" they ask. "The Devil" gets in his face. Luis wonders if this is how his story ends.
But Jesus gives him courage. He tells these former associates that they can kill him but they can't take his soul. He belongs to Jesus and he cannot turn his back on Jesus. He tells them that Jesus Christ is his "Boss" and his "Lord." He says he will always follow Jesus, even if he has to die, because he knows Jesus will use even his death to save someone else. He is not afraid.
That tense confrontation ends with his former 'friends' walking away, inexplicably, but with the warning, 'We will be watching you-if you are playing games...." And he says, "Watch me, but look at Him. He is God's Son."
Luis winds up at the Dream Center and he talks about the incredible discipleship training he received and how God used that time to really help him understand Jesus and what it means to be a Christian.
So you pull up to the park, where your ministry for the day is a mini version of Vacation Bible School in the middle of South Central, working with children, teaching Scriptures, playing with them, loving on them, talking to their parents (mostly women), and as you start setting up, you notice how free Luis seems. The joy on his face radiates as he interacts with children, with parents, with kids at the park-and with you and your team.
The time with MetroKidz is simply amazing. Children singing, playing games, learning about the Great God who loves them and knows them personally...the God who is there, in South Central. The kids learn about making wise choices when it comes to friends, and you realize that this instruction has a significance to these children that you can't begin to imagine.
By age ten or so, the gangs, the drug runners, the people behind the violence and fear, start recruiting children. $300 a week to walk around with a cell phone while you are playing, just to call a number to tell an unknown person that police are around the area is incredible money for someone who would like to know what it's like to go down to a local shop and buy ice cream or soda pop just because...and having extra money to buy things for mom or dad, well, that is a nice thing too.
So you look at the faces of these children, at this moment in time so eager, so innocent, so glad to be around caring adults, and you then look at the face of Luis and you wonder. You wonder if some of these children will make it through school and avoid the lures and temptations and bondage that is so rampant in the area. You wonder if some will fall between the cracks and wind up as a 6:00 news story. You wonder a lot.
But you look at Luis, and you remember your God. You see what He has done in Luis' life and in the lives of some of the adults you have met, and there is hope. Always Hope. Nothing is impossible for God.
And before you leave, you ask Luis if you and your group can pray for him. You wonder what he might ask for in prayer. Perhaps a nicer home? The opportunity to move? For a better paying job? For protection?
He surprises you because his one request is that God will continue to break him. He explains that pride is very dangerous and he wants to always be humble before God so God will use him. He fears pride. He wants to be humble before God and man more than anything so people can see Jesus in him. He reiterates, "Don't pray for God to bless me with things. Things are meaningless. Pray that He will break me over and over so I can be useful to Him."
So you pray-and as you pray for and with this young man, you experience a measure of the trauma of encountering the Holy One as well as the sense that God Is In This Place. You are on Holy Ground, in South Central. God has plans for this city. For South LA. He has not left, He is working, always working.
The kingdom advances, invisibly, and faithful messengers continue to come to this part of Los Angeles to tell the story, to love, to serve, to bless, to invest in the lives of these children, these families-and Luis is just one of many who have dedicated their lives to making Christ known to this community.
You understand that there is much more going on in South Central than what you see on Gangland, what you see portrayed in the movies, what you see on the news. God is working and laborers are in the fields.
Yes, God is working here. You can see it. Light shining in the darkness. Hope in the midst of despair. Freedom in the face of fear. His love is present. He is present.
And when you leave, you realize the experience was nothing short of amazing. And, you realize that you only spent a half day there, and when you leave, life will go on in South Central. Police sirens will continue to scream both day and night, police helicopters will continue to circle the area, but this is the visible realm.
You realize that there is Beauty in the unseen realm, because He is working, and when you finally leave the Dream Center, you have a greater appreciation for those who continue to invest in a place that most have written off as hopeless, and a greater understanding of the Power of God to transform individuals, families, and yes...even social structures. You realize many things...
You realize that God loves South Central L.A. He loves Broken Luis. He loves the children and the parents you met. And yes, His love is amazing...He loves even you...and yes, you realize, that apart from His grace and mercy, you were just as lost as Broken Luis, just as lost as the AK-47 toting gang member, just as lost as the man they call "The Devil" (El Diablo)-and you realize that you have every reason to worship Him for such an extravagant display of Love, Grace, Mercy and Compassion.
So you drive back to the safety of your dorm in Pasadena, a quietness comes over your soul. Yes...Grace is truly amazing.
That logical part of your mind knows a few things: One, you know you are going to enter a different world, and two, you know that there is a reason South Central is the stuff of movies, national news reports and History Channel episodes-the place has a story, and it's not pretty. But the interesting thing is, as you load up in your vehicles, something else is going on: God is giving you an absolute peace about it all, and so you drive into the heart of South Central, past the many wall murals, through run down neighborhoods and by countless taco stands and small shops, and you aren't thinking about safety, you're wondering what God has in store for this trip because everything about the week has been one continual experience of seeing Him at work. You assume and trust He is also working in South Central.
On the way, a young man from the Dream Center rides in the car with you to give you directions. He's nineteen years old, and his name is Luis. Luis is rather quiet at first, giving directions, but there is something inside of you that just knows this kid has a story, working for the Dream Center, so you ask.
And you find out that this young man from South America has quite a story. He knows about MS-13 because he once belonged. He knows about police because he had been arrested a few times, and once on very serious charges. He has seen too much. Done too much he is not proud of. He speaks with a matter of fact tone as he describes his past life. He understands South Central because he grew up there when his family came to America when he was a child. He talks about the dangers of the Mexican drug cartels and how Al-Qaeda supplies the Mexican gangs with military weapons. He is not speaking in a sensational manner. He just knows these things because he knows how things work in South Central, in "Gangland."
As you drive by murals, he explains how so many of the 'saints' in the images are really demonic. He talks about people worshiping these false idols for protection, for money, for strength in battle. He says that so many people are blinded by the enemy. He wants to see South Central set free from this bondage. He is more concerned with the cycle of violence and false worship and the children. He does not mention a need for more money as a core issue, and you can't help noticing this omission. From his perspective, it's spiritual freedom and physical safety that are the big needs, and he knows that none of these things will happen until Jesus Christ is known, the Jesus he encountered in the Scriptures. The Jesus who is, not the Jesus of folk religion.
The SUV gets quiet as you ask more of his story. He is not comfortable at first, but as he begins to speak of God, and of how Jesus Christ was shared with him, how this Jesus was what he was looking for all along in life, he becomes passionate. He shares the most incredible testimony, and the thing you notice, it's not a testimony about "Luis changing his life," but the focus is all on Jesus Christ and how He reached down to 'the worst sinner' and saved him. He gets very excited as he talks about how filled with joy he was and is because of Christ. He talks about Jesus as if He is the most important treasure a person could have, and again...you take note of this.
He talks about facing down death-namely members of his gang (he was a sect leader) who confronted him after Christ saved him. He talks about a particular individual in that group of seven who came to him, a large man, with tattoos all over his body, and his face-"The Devil" is what he called him, and how he had this moment where he was confronted. "Is this true? You think you are leaving?" they ask. "The Devil" gets in his face. Luis wonders if this is how his story ends.
But Jesus gives him courage. He tells these former associates that they can kill him but they can't take his soul. He belongs to Jesus and he cannot turn his back on Jesus. He tells them that Jesus Christ is his "Boss" and his "Lord." He says he will always follow Jesus, even if he has to die, because he knows Jesus will use even his death to save someone else. He is not afraid.
That tense confrontation ends with his former 'friends' walking away, inexplicably, but with the warning, 'We will be watching you-if you are playing games...." And he says, "Watch me, but look at Him. He is God's Son."
Luis winds up at the Dream Center and he talks about the incredible discipleship training he received and how God used that time to really help him understand Jesus and what it means to be a Christian.
So you pull up to the park, where your ministry for the day is a mini version of Vacation Bible School in the middle of South Central, working with children, teaching Scriptures, playing with them, loving on them, talking to their parents (mostly women), and as you start setting up, you notice how free Luis seems. The joy on his face radiates as he interacts with children, with parents, with kids at the park-and with you and your team.
The time with MetroKidz is simply amazing. Children singing, playing games, learning about the Great God who loves them and knows them personally...the God who is there, in South Central. The kids learn about making wise choices when it comes to friends, and you realize that this instruction has a significance to these children that you can't begin to imagine.
By age ten or so, the gangs, the drug runners, the people behind the violence and fear, start recruiting children. $300 a week to walk around with a cell phone while you are playing, just to call a number to tell an unknown person that police are around the area is incredible money for someone who would like to know what it's like to go down to a local shop and buy ice cream or soda pop just because...and having extra money to buy things for mom or dad, well, that is a nice thing too.
So you look at the faces of these children, at this moment in time so eager, so innocent, so glad to be around caring adults, and you then look at the face of Luis and you wonder. You wonder if some of these children will make it through school and avoid the lures and temptations and bondage that is so rampant in the area. You wonder if some will fall between the cracks and wind up as a 6:00 news story. You wonder a lot.
But you look at Luis, and you remember your God. You see what He has done in Luis' life and in the lives of some of the adults you have met, and there is hope. Always Hope. Nothing is impossible for God.
And before you leave, you ask Luis if you and your group can pray for him. You wonder what he might ask for in prayer. Perhaps a nicer home? The opportunity to move? For a better paying job? For protection?
He surprises you because his one request is that God will continue to break him. He explains that pride is very dangerous and he wants to always be humble before God so God will use him. He fears pride. He wants to be humble before God and man more than anything so people can see Jesus in him. He reiterates, "Don't pray for God to bless me with things. Things are meaningless. Pray that He will break me over and over so I can be useful to Him."
So you pray-and as you pray for and with this young man, you experience a measure of the trauma of encountering the Holy One as well as the sense that God Is In This Place. You are on Holy Ground, in South Central. God has plans for this city. For South LA. He has not left, He is working, always working.
The kingdom advances, invisibly, and faithful messengers continue to come to this part of Los Angeles to tell the story, to love, to serve, to bless, to invest in the lives of these children, these families-and Luis is just one of many who have dedicated their lives to making Christ known to this community.
You understand that there is much more going on in South Central than what you see on Gangland, what you see portrayed in the movies, what you see on the news. God is working and laborers are in the fields.
Yes, God is working here. You can see it. Light shining in the darkness. Hope in the midst of despair. Freedom in the face of fear. His love is present. He is present.
And when you leave, you realize the experience was nothing short of amazing. And, you realize that you only spent a half day there, and when you leave, life will go on in South Central. Police sirens will continue to scream both day and night, police helicopters will continue to circle the area, but this is the visible realm.
You realize that there is Beauty in the unseen realm, because He is working, and when you finally leave the Dream Center, you have a greater appreciation for those who continue to invest in a place that most have written off as hopeless, and a greater understanding of the Power of God to transform individuals, families, and yes...even social structures. You realize many things...
You realize that God loves South Central L.A. He loves Broken Luis. He loves the children and the parents you met. And yes, His love is amazing...He loves even you...and yes, you realize, that apart from His grace and mercy, you were just as lost as Broken Luis, just as lost as the AK-47 toting gang member, just as lost as the man they call "The Devil" (El Diablo)-and you realize that you have every reason to worship Him for such an extravagant display of Love, Grace, Mercy and Compassion.
So you drive back to the safety of your dorm in Pasadena, a quietness comes over your soul. Yes...Grace is truly amazing.
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