Vocational Crisis # 322: loving your life but kind of hating your job

Part of me really doesn't like taking work home with me. That's my biggest problem with academia. You're never "done." You have to be self-motivated to write and create on your own schedule, and then you're judged by how good of a job you do. This is preparation for most kinds of "professional" work, where you're paid to apply your specialized expertise to somehow "create" something that someone without your training/education just couldn't do.

While this sounds great to most people, at the moment to me it just seems stressful. I'm a smart, creative guy, but I want to be creative on my own terms. That is, I don't want my livelihood to depend on my own creative talents. That's too much pressure. I would much rather work a low-paying, even "dull" 8-5 job where I only have to work 40 hours per week. Then, not only would I not feel guilty about resting and relaxing after the official workday is through, but I would also have the freedom to then use my creative energies in whatever way I see fit, for my own fulfillment/enjoyment, not because it's what I'm paid to do.

My brother worked as a bartender for awhile right after he graduated college. This seems like a good possibility to me.

Pros:

- Once you're done with work, you're done

- Uniquely relational

- Relatively independent

Cons:

- Working nights and weekends

- At busy times it requires lots of speed/efficiency/multitasking

- Could potentially get old fast

I've got a pretty terrific mom

I remember Mother's Day of 2007. That day, my mom dropped me off at the Atlanta airport, my arms filled with luggage for a new adventure. I had come home for a week or so after finishing final exams for my Junior year of college, but I was about to fly back to Texas to participate in the "Leadershape Institute," a week long leadership training course for all of Trinity University's student organization leaders. But that wasn't the reason my mom was walking me all the way through the security line, proudly holding back tears ("What kind of Mother's Day gift is THAT?!" one of the people ahead of us in line asked when we explained the situation). The reason my mom was experiencing more anxiety on Mother's Day than most mothers should have to experience on ANY day was because the day my training course in San Antonio ended, I was scheduled board another plane. However, instead of bringing me home, this plane would take me from San Antonio to Dallas, to Miami, to La Paz, Bolivia, to my final destination of Sucre, Bolivia. There, I would live with a host family for four weeks and take six hours a day of intensive Spanish language classes at a school recommended by Trinity's study abroad counselor.

But I wasn't making the trip as a participant in a study abroad program or with a student group. Not even 21 years old, I was traveling to a poor, South American country TOTALLY on my own. A "Happy Mother's Day," indeed.

But the story didn't end there. That day -- 6 days before my big international flight -- I was still waiting on my US passport to arrive in the mail. I had applied for it 11 weeks beforehand, like the passport office advised, but thanks to a sudden increase in strictness in documentation requirements for persons crossing the US/Mexico border, there was a huge spike in passport applications that caused mine to be delayed. So during those six days while I was spending 8 hours a day (during regular workday hours) in leadership training courses, my mom was at home or in her church office on the phone, trying to get in touch with someone from the passport office or with my US Congressional district's representative. My mom not only allowed me as a college student to go completely solo on an international trip to a country whose government wasn't the most stable in the world, she also spent hours "on hold" in effort to ensure that I wouldn't miss my flight for lack of a passport.

In the end, my completed passport was expedited and Fed-Ex'd overnight to University Presbyterian Church, with much thanks not only to my mom (obviously), but also to the office of US Representative Hank Johnson (Georgia 4th District!). It arrived around 10am on May 19th, about 8 hours before my flight was scheduled to leave. In the end, I had an amazing trip to Bolivia. I learned more Spanish in four weeks than I probably learned in all of college prior to that point. That trip gave me a huge confidence boost with my Spanish and piqued my curiosity to some day live in South America. If it hadn't been for my trip, I might not have gone to Peru and I might not be here in Hollywood now.

My mom was "the strict mom" among my friends growing up, enforcing midnight curfews and holding firm on something like a "zero tolerance" policy (well maybe a LITTLE tolerance, but not much!) for violent or sexual movies and video games. But for the past six years, I dare to say that my mom has striven to be the opposite of a "helicopter parent" (a term frequently used to describe parents of college students who "hover," attempting to micromanage their children's lives). After I graduated from high school, she continued loving, encouraging, and supporting me 100% as I "fled the nest." I attended college 1000 miles from home, spent every summer during college 200 miles away in Montreat, spent an entire year after college in Peru, and am currently spending this year on the other side of the country in Los Angeles. Indeed, it sadly seems that much of the time I've shared with my amazing mom over the past few years has been during trips to and from the airport (after returning from Bolivia that summer I was home for only a day or two before taking another flight to Evanston, IL to participate in a week-long conference on ministry!). But I could have had none of these opportunities without the unconditional, unwavering support of my mom -- and my dad! She's the best mom anyone could ever dream of, and I'm so proud to see myself going down a similar path to hers. Happy Mother's Day!

Some thoughts on ending homelessness

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to doing homeless outreach in Beverly Hills. Whenever I explain my job to others, I always pause and wait for the inevitable “huh?” after I casually mention Beverly Hills as one of the five cities where the PATH outreach team engages homeless people. How can such a wealthy community have people who are forced to live on the streets? Most of us can’t fathom how there would be homeless people in the land of 90210, and I guess I can’t either, even though I talk to them at least once a week.

When I first arrived in LA 8 months ago, I would walk up and down Rodeo drive and drive past the famous "Beverly Hills" city limits sign with more than a little awe and wonder. I caught myself looking for celebrities just as much as I was looking for homeless people. However, it didn't take long for the novelty of doing street outreach in Beverly Hills to wear off. In fact, sometimes it starts to make me sick. $80,000 cars. $8,000 wedding dresses. $800 boots. $80 meals. Amidst all of that, $8 for a panhandler is next to nothing. But fortunately for wealthy shoppers and diners, it is much cheaper to satisfy the conscience than the palate.

However, giving spare bills and coins to panhandlers only exacerbates the problem. It just makes people more “comfortable” living on the streets. LA’s abundance of wealthy full-time residents and cash-carrying tourists that freely give to panhandlers form part of the “perfect storm” that makes Los Angeles the homeless capital of the world, with some 75,000 people sleeping on the streets on any given night. Another part of that equation is LA’s year round temperate weather. Between the pleasant climate and the great panhandling, the level of motivation that a homeless person in LA has to seek shelter or housing on their own is far lower than in a city like Chicago, for example.

The complexity of LA's homeless problem doesn't end there, however. The final, largest piece of the puzzle is the city’s lack of affordable housing. Easy money and mild winters might seem like reason enough to stay on the streets, but that choice becomes far easier when one considers that the alternative is shelters that are severely overcrowded and dangerous, and public services that are grossly underfunded. As you can imagine, each causes the other. People prefer to live on the street because government and social service agencies don’t provide safe, adequate public services and permanent housing. And there isn’t the collective political will to provide safe, adequate public services and permanent housing because so many people seem to prefer living on the street.

Just as a homeless woman might spend a large portion of her income on alcohol in order to quickly relieve the depression and lack of self worth she feels because of her life’s “failures,” we as a society seek “quick fixes” that address only the superficial, cosmetic symptoms of homelessness rather than the root causes. If everyone took all of the money they spent giving “handouts” to homeless people and instead donated it (along with their time/volunteer hours) to government and private agencies (like PATH) that actually work to help people out of homelessness, two things would happen. First, those who subside off of panhandling just because it’s easy money would dedicate their time and efforts to more socially constructive endeavors. And second, those who have no choice but to live that way would actually receive the necessary care and support to obtain and sustain housing, and live lives filled with meaning and dignity.

The beginning of the end

Every Tuesday night, I join a small group of young adults from Silverlake Community Church, where I have been attending regularly since October, for dinner and a time of fellowship, worship, prayer and discussion of the previous Sunday's sermon. It is one of the many "communities" that I have become a part of during my time in Hollywood. This past Tuesday, I shared with them the excitement I've been feeling lately as I'm finally nearing the end of the long discernment and decision-making process regarding where I will attend Seminary in the fall. Implicit in my excitement was the obvious fact that by the 3rd week of August, I will have left Los Angeles, and with it, Silverlake Church -- along with the other many communities and social groups I've become a part of over the past 7 months.

After our prayer and discussion time was over, a few of my friends from the group approached me and asked me when I was leaving. They told me I would be missed. They lamented the fact that people always leave LA. They talked about how fast the next four months would fly by.

I remember the exact same comments in Spanish, which started almost exactly a year ago.

"Hermano, ya te vas a ir, no?" (Brother, you're going to be leaving really soon, aren't you?)

"Hermano, te vamos a extrañar mucho." (Brother, we're really going to miss you.)

"Hermano, el tiempo esta corriendo! Ya te falta poco para irte." (Brother, time is flying! You barely have any left before you leave.)

When I started having those conversations with people in Lima last year, I thought they seemed kind of absurd. Because time-wise, I'm actually only about 2/3 of the way through my term of service. And in terms of actual "stuff to do," I'm sure the final third will include much more than the previous two. But in the end, they were right. The time flew. The last four months were amazing, but they went by incredibly fast.

However, even having the knowledge of previous experience of year-long term of service in Peru, I found myself responding to my friends on Tuesday in the exact same way that I did to my friends and family a year ago in Peru (I even used some of the same hand gestures that I tend to use for some reason when I talk in Spanish). I told them that four months is plenty of time. I said that I don't want to think about leaving. I said that LA/Peru is really starting to grow on me.

As in Peru last year, I find myself finally growing accustomed to things. I feel like I finally have acquired the skills and understanding to do my job at PATH well. I'm starting to take initiative and really understand the way things work. I'm really getting attached to my coworkers.

Our neighborhood ministry has also developed its core group of "regular kids" for our tutoring and hang-out time. The kids feel more comfortable with us and are actually starting to respect our rules (and they, too, are starting to ask us how much time we have left before we leave).

The intentional community I have with my fellow YAVs/Dwellers still has "a long way to go" (assuming we have a destination?), but as evidenced by this blog entry by Matthew, we've made much progress that one can occasionally catch glimpses of.

So for the second year in a row, I find myself buckling down in an effort to make the most of my last four months as a Young Adult Volunteer. The days are lengthening here, just as they were shortening a year ago in Peru. The temperature is climbing, in the same way that it will soon be dropping in Peru. Flowers I saw in full bloom here in September are beginning to bud again. And if I think about it, I can feel the light mist that characterizes the winter months in Lima, from May to November, blowing right in my face as I approach with wonder and anxiety a totally foreign bus stop.

A little sex and a lot of love

Today I attended a day-long conference with the other Dwellers and Matthew and his family on "Sex, Love and Marriage," with the keynote speaker Mark Driscoll, a nationally recognized Christian author and pastor. The conference outlined what Christian dating, relationships and marriage should look like, using an in-depth study of the Song of Songs (that's a book in the Bible.... FYI). Admittedly, I wasn't expecting much from it, but although there were many things I found troubling in what he said, I actually really enjoyed most of the conference.

Mark described how people normally view sex as either "God" or "Gross." The culture at large sees sex as "God" -- the ultimate pleasure in life, "The Best Thing." The Church usually views sex as "Gross" -- totally sinful, evil and only necessary for producing offspring. However, he advocates that the Church (and society at large, too, thanks to evangelism) should view sex as neither "God" nor "Gross," rather as a "Gift" (from God). It's not "The Best Thing" nor is it shameful. Rather, sex is a good thing that God gave us to enjoy and even use as an act of worship as we celebrate God's best creation, the human body (all within the context of a one man & one woman marriage--Mark's views not mine--but we won't talk about that).

I was very surprised (and kind of pleased) that Mark went into a lot of detail about how great sex is and why it's important to marriage -- I mean a LOT of detail. He also totally embraced the secular/scholarly commentary of Song of Songs that asserts the book is NOT some sort of metaphorical poem about God's covenant with humanity; rather it's all about sex. And that all those metaphors about lovers "tasting each other's fruit" really do mean what they sound like they mean (I'll never think of the term "servant lover" the same way again....)

However, when pressed, he basically said that BEFORE marriage, it's a sin for couples to even kiss ("before you're married, your relationship is as brother and sister in Christ, so don't do anything you wouldn't do with your brother/sister"). This greatly bothered me. I would say that such a view takes a far too legalistic interpretation of scripture. It's allowing the letter of the law to handicap the spirit of the law. Not to mention the fact that it just seemed almost unimaginably cruel to say such a thing to an audience of thousands of mostly single, attractive, hormone-crazy, twenty-something-year-old Christians the day before Valentine's Day after you've just told them both how awesome sex is once you ARE married AND that "committing adultery" in your mind/heart is just as bad as doing it with your body (and all of the implications that go along with that).

But the BEST thing Mark had to say wasn't about sex, it was about Love: "Love isn't a feeling. Love is a choice. Love is a commitment. Then, God, who is gracious, helps the good feelings to follow."

Earlier, he had talked about arranged marriages in various eastern cultures, and how they aren't all a bad thing because you learn to "love the one you marry" (rather than marrying the one you love). This has many implications for being in relationship with one another far outside the realm of romance and marriage. It's all about the church and community. We don't CHOOSE who we're in Christian community with. Some people are Christians/members of our church/members of our community whether we like them or not. And we have to learn how to love them.

That's what my housemates and I are slowly and painstakingly learning this year. The five of us would definitely not normally hang out together if we weren't all placed in this program. We would not have been friends otherwise. But we've made a commitment to loving each other. That doesn't mean we have to agree on everything or always get along. But it does mean that we are going to serve each other and affirm each other and stand by each other no matter what. The weird thing is, having made this commitment to love my fellow dwellers, I am now -- slowly but surely -- finding myself actually ENJOYING their company, even though they're people that I honestly wouldn't have given much of a chance in any other setting.

Love is the "greatest gift" that Paul talks about in 1 Corinthians chapters 12 and 13. Miraculous healings, speaking in tongues, drinking deadly poison and not being harmed -- all that fancy, showy religious stuff pales in comparison to the REAL miracle Christians perform. That is, we love each other and stick with each other despite the fact that apart from believing in Jesus as God's Son, we have nothing in common and would be hurling insults and clawing at each other's throats in most other settings.

It sounds cheesy, naive and idealistic, but my experience with intentional community here in LA gives me hope for the church. Making a commitment to love and then sticking to it and working at it (and it is HARD work!) really does make a huge difference in the way you view people who are different from you. I hope churches like the PCUSA can make a commitment to love.

Somewhere between Mark Driscoll and John Shelby Spong

As many of you know, I'm currently in the process of completing my applications for seminary. This has included much personal reflection and self-analysis as I try to write essays about my "faith journey" and identity.

In all of this writing and thinking and reflection and discernment, I have realized two things.

1.) That "going to church" or "being a Christian" has been a large part of my identity for nearly all my life.

And more interestingly/importantly (as far as this blog entry is concerned anyway):

2.) That clarifying that I am A CERTAIN "TYPE" of Christian has almost always been essential to how I describe myself and my faith to others.

See, if I'm talking about myself with strangers (i.e. "with the entire world on the internet") I frequently feel compelled to use certain "buzz words" -- or "cultural flags" is maybe a better term -- to describe what "kind" of Christian I am. We all know these buzz words: "social justice oriented," "civic minded," "peace loving," "open and affirming," "non-judgmental," "environmentally conscious" et cetera. I have used these buzz words (as have many others people in the PCUSA YAV realm) because in the social group where I grew up, "conservative" is considered a dirty word. I want to define myself as a LIBERAL Christian. But without actually USING the word "liberal," because the greatest fantasy of most "liberals," myself included, is that OUR theological/political views transcend dualistic/divisive labels.

I could write more about how "the media" in our culture attempts to lead us into these dichotomies and perpetuates the notion that there are two camps in our country with irreconcilable differences, and that one position will ultimately be right and the other wrong, and the outcome will be of absolute importance. But I'll spare you.... whoops, too late.

Being immersed in the Christian culture of LA in general, and the YAV/Dwell community in particular, has challenged those ideas about my identity this year.

From what I can tell, many Christians in LA really have taken steps to get beyond the liberal vs. conservative debate, where many Christians in the rest of the country are stuck. In traditional terms, most of my Christian friends here in LA are more conservative theologically than my Christian friends in Georgia or Texas, but really, it's not that simple. That assertion is a very superficial assessment, and even if you DID somehow know they're theologically "conservative," you couldn't automatically assign an entire agenda of assumed political beliefs based on such a label.

I say that because I've noticed that people in LA use lots of what I perceive to be Christian buzzwords (as "cultural flags," if you will) in the same way I do -- but they use the OTHER buzzwords. They refer to their churches as "Bible believing." They reference what's happened "since they got saved." In regards to non-Christian friends, they want to "bring them to Christ." They refer to "the Lord" instead of "God," and they frequently employ capitalized masculine pronouns to describe her. (Sorry, couldn't resist!). And they also very often mention other simple things like "sin," "Satan" and "the Devil" that have never been given too much attention at the churches I've attended in my life.

HOWEVER, before you start thinking that I'm now exclusively hanging out with suntanned Southern Baptists, you should know that most of the Christians here seem passionate about helping the poor. I have seldom encountered people with judgmental, self-righteous, holier-than-thou attitudes (other than when I look in the mirror). And I have only on VERY rare occasions heard anyone "go off" on gay marriage or abortion, the top two theological wedge issues that most people associate with Christianity.

The problem with the rest of us is that many of us "liberal"/mainline Protestants have tailored the way we present ourselves so as not to be confused with the Religious Right. Just to be clear, I generally DO believe the combination of puritanical Christian social values with would-be-secular, neo-conservative political views (like American exceptionalism, social darwinism, pro-gun activism, laissez-faire economics, pro-militarism) has been hugely detrimental to our culture. It was very much necessary that some sort of "Religious Left" arise so that the Moral "Majority" didn't have a monopoly on representing "Christian values" in the public sphere. But the Moral Majority has really been dead for years. The worldview of the religious right, I believe, is "on its way out," evidenced perfectly by the strong denunciation made by prominent Christian figures of all stripes with regards to Pat Robertson's comments last month that the Haiti earthquake was God's punishment for the "pact with the devil" they made to gain independence from the French.

The Religious Right has lost touch with the US. It should then be no surprise that the Religious Left -- which no one actually claims, but lets face it, many of us are a part of it -- is also losing touch, because the Religious Left came into being largely in response to the damage done in the name of Christianity by the Religious Right. So let's pretend for a second: based on nothing, let's estimate that among the "Baby Boomers," for every 4 members of the "Religious Right," there is 1 member of the "Religious Left." If that's the case, I would say that among the "Millennials," I would guess the ratio is more like 1:1, with the vast majority of Christians not identifying with either.

However, among my generation (I'm a millennial, just to clarify for any real strangers out there), it is considered much, much more hip to be a member of the religious left than the religious right. This is why I am far less confident that the religious left will "die out" naturally. That worries me, because although theology and religion SHOULD be involved in politics, one's theological views should never be FOUNDED on political ones.

So anyway, over the past several months, I've been trying to be less combative when it comes to how I evaluate Christian figures, churches and theological positions. I'm trying not to define things in a liberal vs conservative manner, and I'm trying to keep an open mind when other people do it for me before I have a chance to form my own opinion. I invite you all to do the same.

I'll give you a chance to start right now! (so, umm, read the post above)

Serving "the least of these"

This is a sermon I preached about my year so far in Hollywood at Memorial Drive Presbyterian Church in Atlanta on December 27, 2009. The scripture I used was Matthew 25: 31-46, the parable of the sheep and the goats. It also references Matthew 26:6-13. Someday I will develop the end more so the conclusion isn't quite so choppy and abrupt. But here it is as it was preached.

For me and for many others, this passage in Matthew really sums up what the message of Jesus is all about. Serving "the least of these." These verses also have played a crucial part in inspiring the creation of countless Christian charities and philanthropic organizations. When I was a college student at Trinity University in San Antonio, I regularly volunteered at St. Vincent De Paul soup kitchen downtown. St. Vincent De Paul serves three meals a day to around fifty homeless people in San Antonio. The words of Matthew 25:40, "just as you did for the least of these, you did also for me," are painted prominently on the wall in the dining room.

Unfortunately, however, for many Christians in our present times, these verses seem to inspire giving out of guilt rather than out of a sincere Christian love of neighbor. See, Jesus tells the parable of the sheep and the goats in the context of salvation and judgment day. Therefore, when we read this, we tend to focus more on the final outcome of either eternal life or eternal punishment rather than thinking about what the world would look like if its Christians seriously dedicated themselves to serving "the least of these."

Thus, when we start making this parable a blueprint for how to secure our salvation, we totally corrupt its central message. The parable's central message -- and one of, if not THE central message of Jesus' entire ministry -- is that self-less love for one's neighbor and sacrifice on behalf of the poor and oppressed are the core values of the Kingdom of God. So when we perform acts of charity out of a sense of obligation to what the Bible says, or because we want to secure our own salvation, or because we want to somehow prove our own piety, we are acting purely out of self-interest and thus have everything totally backwards.

I don't want to get too bogged down in the theological debate over being saved by grace or faith vs. being saved by works, but I will say that as a Presbyterian, I believe that we act out of self-less love and sacrifice on behalf of the poor in response to having God's love and salvation, not the other way around.

However, there is another disturbing consequence of performing acts of charity out of a sense of obligation rather than out of selfless love. When you simply clothe the naked, give a drink to the thirsty or feed the hungry "because the Bible says so," you tend not to follow up with said naked, thirsty or hungry person. And you think of the person you just helped as just that: "a hungry woman" or "a homeless man." You don't know them for who they really are: Jim. Kristina. David. A mother. A father. A child of God. And most importantly, you have no idea what happened after your deed was completed, because it's not like you stuck around to find out. Most likely, they were hungry or thirsty again just a few hours later, or as you may (or may not know) in the case of the panhandlers in downtown Atlanta, maybe they weren't hungry or thirsty or homeless at all but were actually doing relatively well. They were only pretending to be among "the least of these," because other people's isolated, uninterested acts of charity can be turned into a lucrative business.

We know from the Bible that Jesus and his followers didn't just perform isolated, uninterested acts of charity. In fact, in the very next chapter of Matthew, his disciples want to do exactly that, but Jesus rebukes them. After telling the parable from our scripture reading today, Jesus and his disciples go to the house of Simon the Leper. While there, a woman pours a jar of very expensive ointment on Jesus' head. The disciples, surely wanting to prove that they had been paying attention during the parable they heard earlier, call the act a waste and insist that the ointment should have been sold and the money given to the poor. Jesus then defends the woman in verses 10 and 11 of Matthew 26, saying "Why do you trouble this woman? She has performed a good service for me. For you will always have the poor with you, but you will not always have me."

That last part is surely one of the most misunderstood verses that's frequently quoted out of context in the whole Bible. Despite popular opinion, especially if you ask most supply-side, free-market Christians, Jesus was not telling his followers that they might as well not help the poor because there will always be poverty. Rather, he was remarking that the rightful place of Jesus disciples will always be with the poor. You will always be with the poor, because it is your mission to serve them. Jesus and his disciples made their living amongst "the least of these," dwelling and dining with society's downtrodden.

You see, Jesus wouldn't serve food from across the other side of a counter at a bread line. Jesus would sit down at the same table as his companions. And wash their feet beforehand. He was always touching the lepers and allowing himself to be touched by outcasts and prostitutes.

Have you ever actually touched a homeless person? Not just brushing them in the process of handing over some spare change (or if you're one of those really thoughtful, prepared people, a granola bar or bottle of water instead) but actually just shaken the hand of someone who is homeless, or given them a hug?

I got a hug from Jennifer a few weeks ago. Jennifer is one of the homeless clients I outreach to at my job (her name has been changed). For those of you who might not know, I am currently serving in Los Angeles as a Young Adult Volunteer for the Presbyterian Church (USA), which, for lack of a better description, is basically a year long experiment in humbly attempting to live out these verses from Matthew 25. My job, as a "professional volunteer" is street outreach and case management for an organization called PATH, which stands for People Assisting the Homeless. Basically, every day I and a team of one or two other people drive through Los Angeles engaging people who live on the streets to try to help them find permanent housing or at least get them in to temporary shelter.

Jennifer is a client that the street outreach team has been approaching for a long time -- since well before I arrived in September. We always see Jennifer around the same parking lot of the same strip mall near the LA airport. Sometimes she is digging through the dumpster in the parking lot, but usually she's just sitting beneath a tree on the corner watching the traffic go by. As we do with all of our clients when we approach them, we always offer Jennifer a sack lunch. Usually, she refuses the lunch. Frequently, when she sees us coming she makes it known that she doesn't want to talk to us. Sometimes, she just scowls and shakes her head or politely says "no thank-you." Other times she curtly tells us to go away or even screams at us until we leave. But occasionally, like one day a few weeks ago, she is very nice, accepts a lunch and lets us talk to her for a minute or two.

Usually, my coworkers and I proceed delicately to ask her how her day is going, if she's thought about coming into shelter and whether there's anything else we can do to help her. We stick to these basics in fear that more probing questions might turn one of her good days into a bad day. So you can imagine our surprise on that particular day when she told us that she would like a shower. Very surprised and excited, we told her we could take her in our van right away to the PATH shelter where we work in Hollywood, so she could take a shower. She accepted our offer, and after we helped her into the van for the ride back, which lasted over half an hour, no one said a word. Jennifer took a short nap while my two outreach teammates and I sat in silence as we wondered what possessed Jennifer to be so open, vulnerable and trusting today.

Once we arrived back at the shelter, Jennifer took a 30 minute shower. Afterwards, we asked if she would like to stay in the shelter (we had a couple of beds available). She said no and instead requested that we transport her back to her spot. So after another relatively quiet 30 minute van ride, we dropped her off, said goodbye and assured her that we were always there for her, whatever she might need. And then, without warning, she turned and gave me a big hug, whispering "thank-you" in my ear.

I found out later that it was not the first time Jennifer had come in for a shower and given a hug afterwards. According to my boss, every three months or so, she asks if she can come take a shower, which usually puts her in a hug-giving mood afterwards. And then, in the weeks that follow, it's always back to the way it was before: the next time we see Jennifer she'll probably not want to be bothered. Sure enough, the following week when we were working in Jennifer's area, she declined to talk with us or accept our sack lunch. To this day, the outreach team and I are still engaging and developing a relationship with Jennifer, and she still has her good days and bad days.

If you think that story was a little anti-climactic, your forgiven. Homeless outreach and case management are like that. Sure, there are success stories and inspiring moments like when Jennifer came in for a hug and a shower or when another one of our clients decided to come into shelter and accept substance abuse counseling after more than 10 years of alcoholism and living on the street. But much of the work day to day is frustrating and at times mundane.

Which may be a good thing. See, my goal today is to inspire, but not over-inspire. I will reiterate the theological point I was trying to make earlier that we can only respond to God's love and salvation. How I am called to respond isn't necessarily how YOU are called to respond. Right now, I am just picturing your apprehension about what on earth to do the next time you see a homeless person. Next thing I know, you 'll be fired from your job after arriving 2 hours late one day when you decided to take a man living on the street out to breakfast and listen to his life story after he asked you for something to eat on your way to work. I don't necessarily want that. (Though if you decide you're needing a change in your life, you should go for it! Maybe that would be a great opportunity.)

Christian author, activist and poverty fighter Shane Claiborne once wrote that the problem with American Christians isn't that they aren't trying to help the poor; the problem is that they don't know the poor. Because once you develop a relationship with "the least of these," helping and serving them stops being an obligation, because it will just follow naturally. That's what I'm trying to do. that's what I invite you to do. It's not easy. It doesn't happen overnight. For most of us, especially a solidly middle class, American white male like myself, it includes many mistakes and requires a lot of grace. But God's got a lot of grace to give. Hallelujah! Amen.

Reflection on Urban Ministry and God's Plan of Redemption

Note: I wrote this entry in my personal journal on 1/25/10 while on a "solitude retreat" at a St. Andrews Abbey, a Benedictine Monastery nestled in the beautiful San Gabriel Mountains about 1 hour from LA. All five of us Dwellers/YAVs and Matthew spent the entire day in silent prayer and reflection. I didn't write it anticipating to share it on my blog. It started as a sort of stream-of-consciousness thing that eventually morphed into a deeper more theological reflection on my own identity and the purpose of urban ministry.

As I've been walking down the muddy dirt roads and trails today on the grounds of the monastery, I can't help but notice my shoes. Today I'm wearing my red and white adidas tennis shoes. Ironically (perhaps), they used to belong to one of our homeless clients at PATH who decided he didn't want them any more. However, I actually think of them as my "nice" or "cool" casual shoes. My housemates know it must be a "special occasion" or that I'm trying to impress somebody when I'm wearing these ones.

See, I was excited (sort of) to acquire these shoes because, without having to actually spend money, I finally had something to wear with jeans and a t-shirt to "go out" in that weren't old running shoes (what I normally wear) or my trusty blue flip-flops; nor were they my nice brown or black "dress shoes." As funny as it sounds to have so many types of different shoes for different occasions, that kind of thing matters to people in our culture -- ESPECIALLY in a place like Hollywood. But if these shoes hadn't been randomly given to me, I would have been perfectly content to continue wearing old running shoes and flip-flops everywhere.

"So isn't it funny" I kept thinking to myself today, "that when I'm in the city I usually am content to wear my very outdoorsy old running shoes that have zero fashion appeal without even giving it much thought, in spite of the fashion-conscious culture and the good-natured jokes I have to endure from some of my housemates. But now that I'm all alone in solitude -- in the great outdoors -- I'm wearing shoes that actually look decent enough to pass all of LA's fashion laws; and now I'm getting them all muddy."

For this reason, I have been wondering for the past year or so if maybe I'm much more of a "country boy" than a "city guy" after all. I've always lived in cities and considered cities a more appealing place to live long-term than rural/scenic country areas. But now I take and enjoy every chance I can to escape the busy-ness of LA in favor of green spaces like Griffith Park (or St. Andrew's Abbey). And recently, I've been thinking I would really love to live long-term in such a scenic, rural, outdoorsy place like St. Andrew's. Or Montreat. Or Ghost Ranch. Why do I keep insisting I'm called to urban ministry and that I'd rather live in a huge city than in the middle of nowhere? After all, it's not like I'm huge into typical young adult city life, like going out to bars, nightclubs, concerts etc. Shouldn't I stop kidding myself?

The answer, of course, has everything to do with being counter-cultural. There's nothing really all that edifying, from my perspective, about those entertainment options above that the city offers. They take up time and money, and even though I hate to use the word or sound judgmental, they can become something like a vice for some people.

The fact that "vices" exist in the city is one of the reasons urban ministry is important in the first place. I don't mind "going out" to sporting events, bars, nightclubs and concerts -- I actually have a great time when I do, but it usually takes someone else to do the organizing, because I'm not someone who has the urge to go out too often. I think this fact is a gift. That I can live in LA -- Hollywood, in fact -- for a year and not feel like I "wasted opportunities" by staying in rather than going out most weekends. Rather, I really want to be able to dedicate myself as fully possible to serving the homeless population I work with, being present as a good neighbor and mentor in the neighborhood, living in intentional community with my housemates and involving myself in Silverlake Community Church. Then hopefully I can use whatever brief or rare moments of down/leisure time to rest, reflect and recharge rather than go out. Having this attitude, I think, really helps me confirm that I am called to do urban ministry.

The Bible begins in Genesis with an account of the goodness and perfection of God's creation. For a short time, Adam and Eve lived in harmony with creation in a garden. But then we screwed up and were banished from paradise. The imagery of the garden appears in stark contrast to the height of humanity's fall from grace a few chapters later -- the story of the tower of Babel, the world's first skyscraper. The moral of the story of the tower of Babel is that we humans in our fallen state were punished because we tried to put ourselves on the same level as God. We constructed something that edified ourselves and asserted our own dominance and power. The tower epitomizes humanity's attempt to rely on our own strength and ingenuity to "save" ourselves, when only God has the power to do that.

A sociological/economic perspective on human history mirrors the theological one. Civilization has always advanced via technology and ingenuity in order to improve humanity's position. Fending for ourselves, human beings have always wanted to do more than just "get by. We want the next generation to have life better than the previous one. The evolution of civilization to live in cities came as a result of the division of labor, which has made life and work more efficient. So things improve from our perspective, but we don't actually draw any closer to God. In fact, as technology makes our lives easier, we feel more and more like we don't need to rely on anyone else but ourselves, not God nor each other. On top of that, the increasing stratification of wealth allows us to build bigger and bigger walls between each other, even as we live in closer and closer proximity. And as we "advance," our society has become much more individualized, and technology allows us to interact with each other without having any real, meaningful, human contact.

LA is the epitome of wealth stratification; individual celebrities with super-sized egos (and bank accounts that are even larger) are worshipped as if they were Gods (and sometimes it seems like they believe they really are). And the existence of so many different languages (another aspect of the Babel story) leads to misunderstandings, prejudice and hatred. Living like this, it is sometimes all we can do not just to say to hell with it all and pray for the day that God wipes away all of the wickedness of our world like God did with Sodom and Gomorra.

But our God is a God of redemption, not of destruction. The finalization of God's plan as described in revelation is NOT a return to Eden, but a vision of a new Jerusalem. The new tree of life is situated by the river of life in the middle of a city, not a garden.

As urban ministers, we are to be signs that the work of God's redemption has already begun. The Kingdom has not arrived yet, but at the same time is already here. The great goodness of our life on this earth is that God chooses us to be instruments of his plan for redemption. By not succumbing to coldness and prejudice that's so prevalent in the city. By committing random acts of kindness for complete strangers. By standing up for the oppressed. By touching the untouchables. And by loving one's neighbor as oneself.

an update of sorts

Hi everyone,

I apologize for my lack of updates recently. Everything, for the most part, is going well with me in Hollywood. Below is a bit by bit update on the main aspects of my year.

-- I have found a wonderful church to be involved with while I'm here in LA, called Silverlake Community Church. The pastor is a fellow graduate of Trinity University! The church is small and quite diverse. I am involved by singing in the choir (haven't performed yet!) and participating in a weekly devotion/fellowship/dinner group that is composed of young adults that take turns sharing a meal and discussion in people's homes.

-- Our intentional community composed of my fellow YAVs and myself has had a few issues and rifts over the past few weeks or so, but we are working through them. This is perfectly normal and to be expected when five complete strangers commit to living together for a year, no matter if they all happen to be Christians.

-- Our neighborhood ministry, the afterschool care and tutoring, is still up and running three days a week. We are getting to know the kids and their families better, and the kids are always knocking on our door even up to an hour before we officially "open" because we're eager to hang out. We've also had the privilege of having dinner with a couple of the families who live in our neighborhood in order to know them better.

-- We also host a weekly bible study group in the community house for teenagers that is led by a local Pentecostal church. This study is growing fast and has more than 30 kids that come sometimes. Many of the kids who live in the neighborhood attend, including two young men who had sunk deep into drug use and spent a lot of time of jail before becoming Christians a couple years ago. They now spend much of their free time telling their friends about Jesus.

-- I am still loving my job at PATH (People Assisting The Homeless). It's probably my favorite part of being here. I have amazing coworkers and love having the opportunity to help people get off the streets and into housing. Today one of my coworkers and I went furniture shopping with a shelter/outreach client who will be moving into his very own apartment later this week after living in our shelter for 5 months and on the streets for several years prior to that. He is very excited, but also scared about the prospect of living independently by himself. Please keep him in your prayers.

You can read a great LA times article and see an "audio slideshow" about my job here. The speaker in the video is one of my supervisors. She leads the PATH outreach team that works at night (from 4pm to midnight) while my other supervisor leads the daytime (7:30am - 4pm) outreach team, of which I'm a part.

Finally, I have (UNOFFICIALLY) met my fundraising goal for this year!!! Thanks to all who contributed!

A weekend trip home

This past weekend, I went home to Atlanta. My grandfather passed away the week before, so I was in town for the memorial service. While funerals are not usually considered joyous occasions, I was excited to have a chance to be with friends and family. Grandpa would have turned 96 next week, and had been in relatively good health and stable mind before his kidneys suddenly failed. After living a long, loving, happy life, he “received his promotion” (as one woman from the church put it) without prolonged suffering. So the weekend was much more of a celebration of his life, character and strong faith in Christ than a grief-filled lament of his death.

(Semi-related nerdy theology tangent: I really LOVE that the “technical name” for a funeral is a “Service of Witness to the Resurrection.” That really is what it should all be about, and I think Grandpa would agree. Yay reformed theology!)

Thanks to Grandpa’s passionate church involvement and the strong impression he made on everyone who knew him, during the course of the weekend’s events I had the privilege of catching up and visiting with many members of Central and Druid Hills Presbyterian Churches. I was very touched by the number of them that were genuinely interested in what I’ve been up to in Peru and Hollywood. Many people said that they loved, respected and were inspired by what I have been doing. Many people said that they have been thinking about and praying for me. (And reading my blog, which I need to do a better job of updating!) I feel truly blessed to have such an amazing network of supporters (at home in Atlanta and in San Antonio as well)! There’s no way for me to express how thankful I am to all of you who have been keeping me in your thoughts and prayers during this time of mission and service, whether you first met me as an idealistic college student or as a restless pastor’s kid “raising hell” in elementary Sunday school class. Thanks, and keep reading!

Early Morning Homeless Outreach

“What about that guy?” asks the voice from the back seat of the van. I quickly look to my right as we pass an elderly gentleman with slumping posture shuffling down the sidewalk. He definitely looks as if he might be homeless. Or he might just be out to pick up his newspaper. Courtney, my supervisor at PATH (People Assisting The Homeless) stops the van against the closest available stretch of curb that’s not in front of a driveway or blocked by cars parked on the street. She remains seated as I and our two volunteers step outside, going over in our heads the best way to approach this guy Our goal is having him complete a homelessness survey and offering him a free bag of toiletries and snacks without offending him, just in case he turns out to be a retired homeowner going for his daily jaunt around the block. Clutching my clipboard close against my chest for warmth in the frigid southern California air, I think about how I would be able to see my breath if it weren’t for the pre-dawn darkness.

Wendel, one of the volunteers, is a resident of the surrounding neighborhood of Baldwin Hills and has shown ambitious enthusiasm in helping our agency conduct a preliminary “snapshot” of the homeless population in his area. He confidently strides toward the man who’s now crossing the street. “Excuse me....” he calls out, “hey ol’ G.” I’m not exactly sure what “ol’ G” means, but the stranger stops to see what on earth we could possibly want from him at 6 o clock in the morning.

As I catch up to them and look the guy over, any anxiety surrounding how to inquire whether or not he’s homeless with tact and delicacy quickly vanishes. He’s wearing a tattered long sleeve shirt with a stretched collar that’s falling off of his right shoulder, and he’s walking on top of the ends of his baggy pant legs. His feet are almost completely covered by his blue jeans, but not entirely, and I see the toes of his socks peeking out through the holes. Having spent many years living in or close to the inner city, I wouldn’t have even noticed the low way he was sagging his pants if he had been wearing shoes. Well, shoes, and underwear, that is. Richelle, the other volunteer, who is Wendel’s fiance and is out here with us this morning even though it’s her 42nd birthday, immediately notices the same thing. We both quickly look away while the man tugs upward on the front of his pants to keep from exposing himself.

Wendel introduces me by saying that I work for PATH and that we’re conducting surveys in effort to start providing quality assistance to homeless people in the area of Baldwin Hills. If he participates in the survey, he’ll receive a bag stocked with deodorant, shampoo, a toothbrush, toothpaste, granola bars, a bottle of water, a razor, socks and other goodies. Before I start the survey I whisper to Richelle to check the bag that we’ve brought with us to make sure that it really does include a pair of socks. She checks. It doesn’t. Wendel jogs back over to the van to exchange it for a different one.

“Hi there,” I say, deciding not to extend my usual handshake when I see that the guy still has his fingers buried inside the front waistband of his pants. “First off, can you tell me your name?”

“OG” the man replies softly. I think to myself: Does Wendel somehow know this guy? I’m still not sure whether OG is a name or some sort of code. (I would later learn that “OG” is short for Older Gentleman.)

“Umm, sorry, what’s your first name?”

“OG” he repeats.

“Okay, so what’s your last name?” I ask stupidly, still not sure if I’m hearing him correctly.

“Just put ‘OG’ as his name” Richelle advises me as O.G. repeats his name for the third time.

“OK OG, can you tell me where you slept last night? A shelter? In the streets? In a vehicle?” I inquire, reading off the options on our survey form.

Normally when I interact with people on the streets I’m one of those guys that always tries to talk as if I miraculously grew up in “the ‘hood” instead of a middle-class white household (and according to my friends I usually just end up sounding embarrassingly silly and self-conscious), but I get the feeling this time that it’s going to be difficult for me to communicate with O.G. if I’m trying to imitate the speech pattern of a hip hop artist. So instead I’m asking him the questions in the same way I would talk to my 96 year old grandfather.

“In the streets,” he answers my question without elaborating.

“And how long have you been homeless?”

“Six months.”

“Six months?” I double check. I was guessing he’d say at least 10 years.

“Yeah.”

I write his answers down and continue with the survey. I start getting the feeling that he doesn’t trust me. The other two people we’ve interviewed this morning have told us stories and explained almost every answer. O.G. on the other hand is giving the bare minimum of information; just enough for me to fill in blanks and check boxes on the survey form. Plus, it seems like he’s saying “No” to every single yes-or-no question. No, he doesn’t have any health problems. No, he hasn’t been to the emergency room in the past 3 months. No, he’s never been to jail. No, he doesn’t have any mental health issues. No, he’s never been told he abuses drugs or alcohol. When I get to the question that asks which specific drugs he uses, Richelle interjects to clarify that we’re not with the police or government, and that his answers are completely confidential. However, he doesn’t change his answers and insists he doesn’t use any type of drugs or alcohol.

It’s a long survey; it takes nearly 10 minutes to finish the whole thing, and by the end I consider that O.G. might be giving such short, bland answers because he doesn’t want to spend forever standing on the sidewalk talking to strangers with no shoes or jacket when it’s 45 degrees outside. Finally, we finish the survey. Wendel gives him the bag as we wish him good luck, and the three of us trudge back to the van.

“Not a single one of our bags had any socks in it!” Wendel declares as soon as we’re outside of earshot.

“I was afraid of that” I say. “I made up the bags last week, and we only had about 30 pairs of socks.” Today is day two of our three day homelessness survey blitz in the city of Baldwin Hills. Courtney, Wendel and I are one of five teams composed of PATH staff and volunteers that are combing the streets, parking lots and alleyways of the city limits in an effort to gather as much information as possible about the number and vulnerability of the local homeless population. Each team is assigned a specific area of the city in which to conduct surveys between the hours of 5am and 7:30am: presumably the time when people are most likely not to be busy or moving about and in the same places in their daily “routines.” After day one we had already documented 22 people (and thus given out 22 bags), so I was not at all surprised to learn that we no longer have socks.

“Yeah, it’s ok; I just gave him my own pair of socks,” Wendel says plainly. Richelle, Courtney and I are all touched, and we each give him a variation of some sort of “oh my gosh, that’s so sweet” affirmation. Wendel just shrugs, knowing it was simply the right thing to do. As we drive off to explore the parking lot of a nearby McDonalds, I can see the orange glow of dawn beginning to break across the palm tree-lined LA horizon.

A Fairly Easily Resistible Philosophy on Life: Living as an Ordinary Moderate-Liberal Protestant

I've almost finished reading Shane Claiborne's The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical (for the second time; the first time I read it was 2 years ago). I've been thinking about the book a lot, as it now has many direct applications for the manner in which I want to live my life during this year in Hollywood (and beyond...) I was originally going to blog tonight about some experiences working at PATH, but some thoughts on Irresistible Revolution have been weighing on my mind instead.

For those of you who don't know anything about Shane Claiborne's book, it is basically an account of how one individual has chosen to live his life in accordance with the message of the Christian Gospel. Shane Claiborne is a founding member of The Simple Way, an intentional community in Philadelphia. He is passionate about not only "serving" the poor, but living amongst the poor and even "being poor" by 21st century US standards. He notes that a huge segment of Christians base their faith on being "born again" because there's an account of Jesus telling someone in the Bible that they must be "born again" to enter the kingdom of heaven. What if there were an entire segment of the Christian population who based their faith on selling all of their possessions and giving the money to the poor -- because there's an account in the Bible of Jesus telling one guy to do exactly that, as well.

A couple weeks ago, my housemates and I, along with Matthew our site coordinator, were having a discussion on the book (we have "community day" where the six of us take time to check in, have book discussions, pray and be present with each other every monday). One of the interim pastors of First Pres. Hollywood had joined us as a guest to talk with us about some of his own experiences in Christian mission. The pastor hadn't read the book, but he eagerly listened as we talked about it and gave him a brief synopsis of the book's premise. During the discussion, the pastor cautioned that many types of theology like Shane's tend to "idealize the poor." Just because people find themselves in conditions of poverty doesn't mean that they're blameless and that their lifestyles should be imitated. We don't worship the poor or the Revolution, or Social Justice; we worship Jesus Christ. Poor people have their own spiritual problems and lifestyle problems that don't only stem from poverty.

This was a good point for me to hear. One of my only criticisms of the book up to that point had been my "theory" that Shane had to have sugarcoated and left details out of many of his stories and anecdotes that he describes in the book. He talks about giving away thousands of dollars to people on wall street and seeing people use it to share with each other and buy food for strangers. He recalls how a group of college protesters and homeless people working together helped overturn laws that forbid people from sleeping in an abandoned building or eating in a park. He tells stories about how he and his cohorts seemingly effortlessly would teach inner city kids to resist entering the cycle of violence. As someone that at least has a LITTLE bit of experience with some of these issues, I read the book and think to myself "How is it so easy for him to do all this cool stuff?!" There MUST be 20 stories of failure for every one beautiful kum-bay-ya moment. In the small neighborhood where we live, it seems unbelievably difficult for kids to escape the pull of gangs. The middle schoolers we tutor in our community house curse at each other, constantly talk about how "gangster" they are, and evidently must be watched closely because they're very frequently "dared" to steal things from the community house. Usually from my point of view, it does not seem like living in urban poverty should be idealized.

As I've made the startlingly clear realization that Shane Claiborne in his book and I myself in my own theology tend to "idealize the poor," I've tried to make sense for how I should change my outlook. Does Shane have something that I'm missing? Does he not realize that he idealizes the poor? Has he really lost sight of worshiping Jesus in his quest to live simply among the "least of these?" And at this point, I've reached the conclusion that *duh* of COURSE Shane Claiborne and other intellectual, liberation theology author types realize that they idealize the poor. Shane KNOWS he's sugar coating. He knew that his book wasn't going to get the majority of middle-upper class citizens to move out of their suburbs and into the inner city and start inviting homeless people over for dinner. He's got a little more self-awareness than that. He's heard from plenty of critics and he knows perfectly well that many well-thought out projects and sincere efforts to live among and increase the quality of life for poor people fall flat on their faces.

But why the hell would he admit that in his book? "Um yeah, God says that there should 'be no poor among you,' but even though I personally am working to change that, it's really not practical or necessary for most people to try it. Besides, plenty of homeless people are perfectly content just living on the streets getting by on the products of other people's guilt anyway." That type of attitude isn't going to move anybody. Although many people in conditions of poverty were born into it with very little chance of getting out, not every single poor person is a "victim of the system." Some have no one to blame but themselves. Some have simply made poor decisions -- and some have been given second and third chances and continued to make bad decisions every time. Some prefer to rely on the government/other people's aid and have very little interest in becoming self-sufficient or taking responsibility for their own lives. Most people who have encountered poverty in the US know this. I contend that Shane Claiborne knows this. It's a politically incorrect, but widely known truth -- and it's the reason why attempts to fight poverty are so half-hearted (well, one of the reasons anyway).

Shane Claiborne knows that it's true, but declaring that it's true and then LIVING as if it's true only perpetuates the problem. If we seriously let this truth become a guiding principle of our lives, we stay walled in our suburbs. We become convinced that poverty shouldn't get too high on our priority list, because our efforts to solve it fail. The more important truth is that the reason that our efforts to solve poverty fail is that we never TRULY believed poverty could be solved in the first place.

It is really, really tough to make any headway on issues like poverty and homelessness. Shane Claiborne (and slowly but surely, I as well) know that short-term mission trips, under-funded non-profits, and the charity of middle-class Christian "do-gooders" isn't going to get it done. The only way to affect real change is through entire lifestyle changes that are, as the book title says, quite radical. When wealthy people go out to meet and really get to know the poor with the attitude that real change really is possible, that's when both sides are radically transformed. And the only way to create that sort of encounter is to idealize the poor. Idealize them as much as possible. Make it sexy as hell for gifted, privileged white kids to forgo comfort and money in favor of totally dedicating their lives to living in solidarity with people who aren't so privileged. And perhaps some of those facts about life that most of us know to be true will become myths some day.

Lost on the wrong side of town

EDIT: Notice again the date... and sorry again for posting late!

Last night, Curtis and I went to a USC football game. One of the members of First Presbyterian Church of Hollywood, a USC alum and former collegiate national champion in mens' tennis who never lost a match in 3 seasons of play (many years ago), was nice enough to give us two tickets in the fifth row on the home side at the 15 yard line. So Will gave us a ride down to the stadium two hours before kick-off so we could get the full USC home game experience (we were fortunate enough to meet some very hospitable tailgaters... but they drew the line at listening to two boys from the south try to tell them that SEC teams play the toughest schedules in college football). Once inside the stadium, after we got past the initial ooh-ing and aah-ing at the up-close-and-personal perspective on SC's tradition and pageantry, the game itself was incredibly boring. The Trojans defeated the Washington State Cougars 27-6 in a game that seemed devoid of much passion or intensity (and scoring, too, during the second, third and much of the fourth quarters).

After the game, however, is when things got interesting (well, at least interesting enough for me to write a blog entry about it). Curtis and I had planned to take the LA city bus home (as mentioned above, Will dropped us off before the game using our shared community mini-van; our thinking was to avoid paying for parking and dealing with saturday-late-night, post-game LA traffic). Problem was, by 10:30, when we finally got out of the stadium, the city buses had seemed to have stopped running. We waited at the closest bus stop to the stadium before noticing a small sign with a bus schedule that indicated that this particular bus only ran until 9pm on Saturdays. So using Curtis' iPhone, we looked up a route of another bus that would take us home (that supposedly came more frequently/ran later) a few blocks to the west of the stadium.

We arrived at our new bus stop a little before 11pm. We waited. And waited. As we watched a group of men drinking and loitering across the street (who seemed to be watching us), we started feeling more and more out of place as two white guys in USC gear late Saturday night on a corner in what we learned the following morning to be the edge of South Central Los Angeles. We met a woman who seemed to be from the neighborhood (she knew quite a few of the people milling about) who asked us for a dollar so she could buy another beer from the gas station across the street. After making conversation with her for awhile with no sign of the buses, we called a taxi company. When we told the person from the taxi company on the phone where we were, the intersection King and Normandie, he informed us that their company "doesn't pick up there."

A few minutes later, a young man in his late 20s/early 30s approached and asked if we knew if the buses were still running. We were trying to figure out the same thing, we told him.

The young man's name was Cesar. He told us he was recently released from prison and "didn't want to get in trouble again." He was trying to get home (from... where? We never asked.) and was nervous about the possibility of having to keep walking through this particular neighborhood. LA is notorious for gang violence that tends to fall along racial lines, and as a young, Hispanic male, Cesar (like us) was obviously out of place in South Central, a predominantly African American area.

By this point Curtis and I had each said plenty of quick, silent prayers that God would help us get home. I was almost to the point of calling one of our roommates to come pick us up (who would then have to figure out how to get to where we were and drive there at night after living in LA for all of 3 weeks) when we saw a taxi pull into the gas station across the street. Cesar suggested we go see if the driver could take us all back (Cesar's house was on the way to our neighborhood). We negotiated a fare before we got into the cab (like I would always do in Lima, where there are no taximeters, even though this guy had one). He agreed to take us for a very reasonable price, so all three of us squeezed into the back seat, and 30 minutes later, we were home.

And that's pretty much the end of the story. The taxi dropped Cesar off first, and then took Curtis and I back home, safe and sound. The driver was a college-educated immigrant from Ethiopia. Because of health problems, he was driving a taxi instead of continuing with school/professional work. We thanked him and wished him good luck.

Although it was maybe anti-climatic, Curtis' and my late-night experience in South Central offers plenty of things to over-analyze. In telling the story to our housemates and members of First Pres Hollywood afterwards, we both said we were scared. We were scared because we were "lost" on the "wrong" side of town. I still don't know how reasonable/justified our feelings of fear were. Maybe the feelings were products of our common sense/self-preservation instinctively trying to keep us safe and preventing us from acting unwisely. Or maybe they were products of having seen too many movies, listened to too many rap songs and heard too many rumors about that particular area of LA.

Although it has an important biological function, fear can sometimes be a bad thing. In the Bible, God is frequently telling folks to relax and "be not afraid." Fear can make us act violently and hatefully. Fear is probably the number one reason why most of us don't really pay too much attention when Jesus tells us to "love our enemies." Fear is why a lot of kids join gangs. Fear is why we build walls between us and them, and also why we steer clear of certain "wrong" sides of town.

The reason I would refer to South Central as the "wrong" side of town for guys like me and Curtis has a little to do with race and a lot to do with money and power. I've said it before (almost exactly a year ago, as a matter of fact) and I'll say it again: if you don't have money or power, you have very little reason to be afraid in the inner city. Not coincidentally, that's what this year of dwelling in the inner city is about. Freeing ourselves from enslavement to worldly money and power. Coming face to face with people that are different than us and that sometimes scare us. As Shane Claiborne says, while our society encourages upward mobility and a race to the top to become the richest and greatest, Jesus invites his followers to do the opposite: to enter into a movement of downward mobility, a "race to the bottom" to become like and to serve "the least of these." It's not easy, and for a North American, white, heterosexual, middle-upper class male, who's about as close to "the top" as you can get, it's a long, long race, and it's gonna be pretty scary. But that's when God finds us on the right side of town.

Note: as a community, we (the Dwellers) are currently reading Shane Claiborne's The Irresistible Revolution, which is the reason why I sound so much bolder/more idealistic/provocative than usual (or maybe not?)

Orientation Update

EDIT: Please notice the date that this entry was written. Sorry I'm posting it a month late!

We’re wrapping up our week of orientation here in Hollywood. We’ve had a chance to get to know each other, explore the city and see the places where we will all be working over the next year. On our first day of orientation, we went to Griffith Observatory, in the hills of Griffith Park, one of the largest urban parks in the country, which overlooks downtown LA. Looking down the hill from the observatory, it was easy for me to compare in my mind the view of LA with the view of the outskirts of Lima from the view of the top floors of Kilometer 13 church in Comas, where I worked last year. Both cities are huge metropolises overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The foothills of the Andes on the outside of Lima are really part of the same system of mountain ranges as the foothills of the San Gabriel mountains of LA. But that's where the similarities end (well, besides the smog/pollution). From Griffith Park in LA, I look down upon beautiful, ornate mansions that house single families. In Lima, I would look down upon slums and simple brick buildings that would house multigenerational extended families. The houses in LA have Spanish style colonial tiled roofs. The houses in Lima frequently had roofs made of cardboard or sheet metal. Or the roofs were covered with clotheslines and laundry, and usually featured long iron rebars sticking up, allowing for the house to continue being constructed upward as the family gets bigger. Check them out for yourself.

A view of Los Angeles from Griffith Observatory:

A view of Comas from Km 13 Church:

2008-2009 YAVs/Dwellers atop Griffith Observatory, with the Hollywood sign in the background. (From left: Will, Kenna, Curtis, Wendy and Alex):

The parking area/basketball court behind our house is decorated with artwork done by some of the kids who live in the neighborhood. The YAV site in Hollywood begun as a community house that was an urban mission of First Presbyterian Church of Hollywood called the Hollywood Urban Project:

Last years Dwellers created and maintained a community garden in the front yard of the house. The five of us now assume stewardship of the garden:

New Blog Name

"Pensamientos Peruanos" has run its course. No, that doesn't mean my blog is ending. It just means it's time for a new name. I've started YAV year # 2 in Hollywood. So my thoughts aren't quite Peruvian enough now to merit the blog title "Pensamientos Peruanos" (even though I'm sure I'll continue to relate to experiences from Peru as I blog in Hollywood). I will also continue to keep the same address -- http://alexcornell.blogspot.com, but in the coming days or weeks, I'll be changing the blog title to give it a nifty new Hollywood/Los Angeles themed name.

So I need suggestions on a catchy blog name. Alliteration is always good, so I could just make it "Hollywood Happenings." Another possibility is "Hollywood Headaches, Heartaches and Half-eaten Hotcakes." But that just seems a tad melodramatic. Plus, I always finish all of my hotcakes. The YAV/Dwell program in Hollywood started as a mission of First Presbyterian Church of Hollywood called "The Hollywood Urban Project," and my cynical side kind of wants to name my blog "The Hollywood Gentrification Project." If I ever did live video blogging, I could call it "California Streamin.'" My esteemed Peru YAV colleague Sean Kerr has suggested the name "Pensamientos Hollywoodaños," which sounds really cool to me, but would set a precedent such that throughout my entire blogging life, I'll always have to have a blog whose title is in Spanish and describes my thoughts as they relate to the location I happen to be in.

So that's all I got. Yesterday, Kenna, the fourth member of our YAV/Dwell community in Hollywood arrived from Tucson with her family. Will, the fifth and final member will fly in tomorrow. Then, orientation starts Tuesday as the five of us get used to being out of our comfort zones as we struggle to live in community with each other, integrate ourselves with the neighborhood and work four days a week on the streets of LA. I will try to take and post some pictures soon! Be sure to check out the official blog of the "Door Hollywood" program, which includes YAV/Dwell. Matthew Schmitt, our site coordinator updates it regularly and has already posted a couple entries with pictures documenting our arrival. That's all for now, and keep in touch!

Sights and Sounds from the first week in Hollywood

We could see the smoke from the L.A. wildfires through the airplane windows as we descended to land at the L.A. airport late Monday afternoon. Later, as Matthew, our site coordinator, drove us from the airport to the community house that we'll be calling home for the next year (with a stop at In 'n Out Burger on the way), we could see the actual flames lighting up the night sky across the southern California hillsides in the distance. I'm sure much heavy-handed, hyperbolic Christian symbolism could be used to describe our arrival -- the fearless group of Bible-believing Young Adult Volunteers descends onto the Godless Urban Jungle to "save" a city that's literally on fire as flames leap across the horizon and thick smoke fills the air -- but I'll let you simply take from it what you wish.

With the two other members of our Hollywood YAV/Dwell community not arriving until Saturday and Monday, this week is all about settling in and getting our bearings. Matthew took Curtis, Wendy and I grocery shopping on Monday, and we're already discovering how creative we're going to need to be this year if we're going to survive on the $85 per individual per month that we're given for groceries. Then, yesterday Curtis, Wendy and I took the community van to Venice beach and enjoyed the sun, waves and interesting people that hang out there. Finally, the past three mornings I've gone running to explore our neighborhood. Hollywood's touristy locales -- the walk of fame, the Hollywood sign, Grauman's Chinese Theater etc -- are mostly to our north. Hancock Park, a large, wealthy neighborhood, lies to our south. And scattered between Hollywood's busy thoroughfares -- Sunset, Hollywood Boulevard, Melrose Avenue, Santa Monica Boulevard -- are side-streets like ours, Gregory Avenue. On these sidestreets are mainly apartment complexes and modest homes occupied largely by immigrant families.

This evening, I had my first taste of what our daily life living and ministering in this neighborhood might look like. Wendy and I were cooking dinner. We had harvested all of the okra from our house's community garden in the front yard, and we had just gotten back from riding our bikes to the local "Food For Less" discount grocery store to pick up a few key ingredients for a recipe featuring okra that Wendy got from her mom. As we started preparing dinner in the kitchen, Curtis was playing basketball with the hoop in the parking area behind the house with 4 or 5 of the neighborhood kids, who ranged in age from 6 to about 12. Wendy and I quickly discovered that the okra from the garden was over-ripe (who knew it might be difficult to grow okra in southern california?) and was going to be absolutely inedible no matter how long we boiled it. We decided to improvise; we scrapped the okra to the compost and instead added leftover ground beef and rice to create a stir-fry out of what was originally planned to be an okra, tomato, green pepper and onion salad. Meanwhile, the kids had grown tired of basketball and Curtis, who went to school at Ole Miss, was attempting to give the kids a geography lesson on the southern US, because Mississippi is as good as a foreign country to a 10-year old son of Mexican immigrants living in L.A. Finally, Wendy and I finished dinner and Curtis said goodbye to the neighborhood kids, almost all of whom live in the apartment complex across the street. We all sat down to eat together. The three of us enjoyed our third "family dinner" in Hollywood (the improvised stir fry was actually really good) and we prayed giving thanks for food and fellowship and asking God's guidance as we begin a year in relationship with a wonderful neighborhood and each other.

YAV Orientation at Stony Point

It's been a busy week. I was one of 67 YAVs attending orientation at Stony Point conference center in New York. For better or for worse, I found myself doing more looking back during orientation than looking forward. Finally, I had a chance to "process" some of what I experienced over the past year in Peru with a group of people who understood more or less my motivations for being there and what exactly my goals and intentions were. I eagerly gave advice to whoever would listen about "what it's like" to be a Young Adult Volunteer, especially in Peru.

I can't really describe how awesome the energy was that I felt at orientation. It was just really, really cool to be around so many like-minded Christians who had dedicated a year out of their lives for service to others -- not to "save souls" but simply to be in relationship with people. We all seem to be searching for more authentic ways of being after spending most of our lives in sheltered white, middle-upper class enclaves. Orientation included both practical training/information as well as times of worship, play and socializing. We had talks and workshops about how to care for ourselves and manage conflict when we experience culture shock, stress and anxiety as we live in unfamiliar and possibly uncomfortable settings during our years of service. We participated in amazing worship services in which former YAVs shared stories of their experiences from years past and we all praised God with singing and dancing using music from all over the world.

So yesterday, at the end of orientation, we dispersed from Stony Point to all of our various placements around the world. Hollywood, Peru, San Antonio, Guatemala, Cincinnati, Atlanta, Kenya, Denver, New Orleans, India, Tucson, Nashville, Northern Ireland, Alaska, Miami. The first group left Stony Point Conference Center at 3am early Monday morning, while the final group left at 11pm that night. The flight to L.A. left a little before 10am. I was accompanied by Curtis and Wendy, two of my four housemates (the other two Will and Kenna had prior commitments to fulfill and will be arriving this weekend). It is truly awesome to be a part of such a large contingent of service-minded young people spreading out all over the world with the same goals.

Fundraising, take 2!

As many of you may already know, I will be serving ANOTHER year as a Young Adult Volunteer beginning this September. This time, I will be living and working in Hollywood. Yes, Hollywood, California. Believe it or not, Hollywood has its own problems with poverty and homelessness. The Hollywood YAV program has three components, which I will explain in this blog entry: living in intentional Christian community with the other Hollywood YAVs, working 32 hours per week for a local non-profit addressing homelessness, and serving as a “good neighbor” to the surrounding area.

The prospect of living in intentional Christian community with other mission-minded Christians is what originally interested me in serving as Young Adult Volunteer for a second year at a national YAV site. The four other Hollywood Young Adult Volunteers and I will struggle with the issue extreme poverty in the shadow of extreme wealth, which is prevalent throughout Hollywood. The five of us will agree on a covenant governing the way in which we want to live together during the year. There will be an emphasis on living simply and intentionally -- “the way Christ intended.” This will probably mean only walking, riding bikes or taking public transportation to work, limiting or completely restricting time spent watching TV or using the internet, committing ourselves to making responsible consumer choices as we share grocery, utility bills etc. We will also have regular times of community building, prayer, reflection and bible study between the five of us each week.

Additionally, we will commit ourselves to being good neighbors in our neighborhood. The house is located in a small, working class, predominantly Spanish-speaking immigrant neighborhood. As a house/group, the five of us must brainstorm some sort of service that we can provide to the neighborhood. In the past, Hollywood YAVs have hosted regular community meals, provided after-school tutoring and organized holiday festivals/parties as well as regular pick-up games of soccer/basketball.

Finally, I will be working as a “street outreach case manager intern” for an organization called PATH (People Assisting The Homeless) I am very excited about this opportunity. Although I have done a little volunteer work with the homeless before, this will overall be a very new, different experience for me. I’m still learning many of the details, but basically I will be working in a team of case managers who will work on the streets on a daily basis with homeless clients. Through conversations, we will attempt to help people living on the streets assess how they can best take steps towards self-sufficiency and search for affordable housing.

As you can tell, it promises to be a year full of personal and spiritual growth. The final part is the fundraising. As part of the YAV program, I have committed to raising $6,500 to help cover living expenses and program costs. I need your help with this fundraising! The YAV program in Hollywood is actually run in partnership between the Presbyterian Church (USA) and a program of the Mennonite Church called DOOR (Discovering Opportunities for Outreach and Reflection). So if you are willing and able to help me with my fundraising efforts (no amount is too small), there are three ways you can do that.

The best way is to write a check to “DOOR Network” and write “Hollywood - Alex Cornell” in the memo line. Mail the check to

DOOR National Office

430 West 9th Avenue

Denver, CO 80204

If you would rather give through the Presbyterian Church (USA), you may do that as well (however, they do prefer that you give directly through DOOR). To give through the PC(USA), click here. Then click “Hollywood” in the box that says "Support specific national YAV sites" and then follow the instructions. In the “Comment” section of the online form, be sure to write that the funds are designated for Alex Cornell.

Finally, you can also give through the DOOR facebook "cause" page by going here and clicking “Donate.”

Thanks and be sure to keep in touch!