Stability
by Krista Dutt
Two men are sharing stories about being married, struggling to be married, joys and problems with being a dad and traveling so much, what iPhone carrier is the best, and what’s great about living in Colorado. Good conversation.
Two women and a man talk about the helpfulness of Southwest Airlines compared to the horror stories of other major carriers that they share. They talk being at a live hockey game, the ability of tonic water to take out stains (a lesson an airline attendant taught the man), and the cold winters of Denver. I should have jumped in to share about Chicago winters at that point. Good conversation.
It’s fascinating to be listening to these fairly deep conversations on a Friday night flight while finishing The Wisdom of Stability: Rooting Faith in a Mobile Culture by Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove. It feels a bit strange to be reading such a book on a plane. It feels a bit stranger to be a part of an organization that welcomes people to come spend a weekend, a week, a summer or a year and be reading this book.
While DOOR doesn’t necessarily allow for participants to build stability in the wonderful ways that Wilson-Hartgrove shares, DOOR has taught me the importance of building roots and a life of stability. If I don’t live and work in the neighborhood I am teaching about, can I really be authentic? Can I be a tree of support to others if I myself do not have a root system that goes way beneath the surface of small talk?[i] In my quest to know it all and see everything, have I given up deep rooted relationships?
Similarly to Wilson Hartgrove and others named in the book, my travel has at times made me long for putting down roots. My travel has made apparent that, without working on it, faith can become uprooted. Stability is hard. My hope is that while good conversations can happen on a plane, more and more of my good conversations happen on my front porch and in my neighborhood.
[i] Wilson Hartgrove uses a tree metaphor throughout the book, but describes the image in depth in the chapter “Roots of Love.”
Krista Dutt lives and works in Chicago IL. She is the National Program Director for DOOR.
The $1 Meal
By Austin Brown
After telling the teams of young adults that they each had only one dollar to find their dinner for the evening, I saw the faces of most students light up (though others were clearly terrified.) But they all were active participants, heading out in the cold together and then returning to the sanctuary with bellies not quite full.
When the first two teams returned, I allowed them to have a little discussion just to pass the time. I wasn’t surprised to find that one group had considered lying to try and evoke some pity from a restaurant owner, but couldn’t do it. However, I was shocked when the other group responded, “We did.” The second group was made up of three Caucasian women and one Mexican American man. The young man, Jose, told us of his plan- he went into McDonalds, claimed he had just been at the drive through window, and that the staff forgot to give him two Big Macs. The staff asked for a receipt, so Jose lied and said he left it in the car with his friends, but that he was in a hurry and just wanted the two burgers. Jose went so far with the lie that the manager of the McDonalds was called out. Jose continued to lie to the manager and got so far, that the only way to end the conversation was for him to huff and puff and storm out of the McDonalds.
Though I was more than a little disappointed that the group lied, especially after I told them to explain they are from DOOR if they were going to ask for anything from the community, I concluded that it was still a teachable moment because so often we demonize the poor for lying, especially homeless people. Yet two groups immediately started concocting a lie as soon as they only had $1!
When the other teams returned, we began to debrief the experience together. All the teams had an amazing experience, except one- Jose’s. Apparently as they were walking through the streets, some high school students saw them pretty far away but could nonetheless make out that they were white and shouted “Get out of our neighborhood, you white crackers. You don’t belong here.” The girls admitted to being a little shaken up by it but still processed the experience beautifully and didn’t consider it a horrible night (they even found some good in it). Jose didn’t comment except to say that the kids were yelling at the girls, not at him, because he isn’t white. The discussions continued and then it was Jose’s turn; he had been rather quiet during the debriefing.
“You have to tell me what you’re thinking,” I said. He folded himself up in his seat, tucked his feet underneath him and said, “I don’t mean to offend you, but I didn’t like this activity. I felt it was patronizing to the community that we would pretend to be homeless and ask other people for money. We, who go to a $40,000 per year school, should not be on the streets asking anyone for anything.” I admit was a little offended, but I was not going to take his feelings from him. I responded that I’d let him own his experience, but that there is one thing I wanted to make clear: I specifically told everyone to tell people they are from our organization, so that community members could make an informed decision about helping or not helping. No one was supposed to be tricking others.
After I finished, the group leader had a few things to say as well- mostly about not being able to deny how well the exercise worked for many people in the group. Jose readily agreed that he was glad that it worked well for some, but stood his ground. Then he seemed to go a little off topic. He responded, “I’m glad it opened the eyes of some people, but I just don’t think any of us can know what it’s like to be them, to be poor. And us trying to pretend is just wrong. You know, I’m Mexican American, obviously, and I go to a white school, and I have white friends, and I’m making it. I determined to do something with my life, and I am. You are making the line between “us” and “them” clear, because we could never understand, especially not in an hour and a half.”
Now I was confused. I couldn’t figure out how all of these statements fit together: pretending to be homeless, not letting being Mexican hold him back, driving a wedge between us and them… I understood everything he was saying as an individual conversation but I couldn’t figure out the connection between them and what all of that had to do with the $1 Meal!
So I went out on a limb. I said, “Jose, there is something I don’t understand here. Your group was the only group to try to con people out of food, and, in fact, it was you specifically who lied over and over again. There seems to be a disconnect here. How can the person who is morally opposed to this activity be the one person who lied repeatedly during it?”
He nodded slowly and then his life story came spilling out. “This is not my first time. I didn’t grow up in a rich house. My family was on food stamps, and sometimes we didn’t know where our next meal was going to come from. I have gone to sleep hungry. I have had to try and con people out of money or food so that we could eat. But I’m here now. I’m making something of my life. But even now, when I walk by old women they sometimes cross the street. I’ve seen people tuck their purses underneath them when I walk by.”
The group had clearly never heard this story before. And now I finally understood how all this fit together in Jose’s head. Being a minority among white people day in and day out. Truly having Caucasian friends and trying not to think about the differences in their backgrounds. And then came the $1 Meal. First Jose is identified as white because he is with white women. Something in him tells him that surely those kids know he is not white. And yet, these are his friends. And he is about to go lie for them, just as he would do years ago for his own family. But even as he walks through those doors, he believes they will never understand. His white friends will never understand what it is like to be poor, what it was like to be him growing up, what it is like to have to do what he is about to do: lie. Because you just can’t learn that in an hour and a half, in East Garfield Park, on a mission trip, when you go to a $40,000 school.
I understood where he was.
Jose is still talking to me even though he had a troubling experience, and even though I put him on the spot, and even though he spilled what he has clearly been keeping to himself. I hope the group will continue to acknowledge all that Jose is: a fellow student, but also a Mexican-American with a very different history from them. I hope that even Jose has learned more about himself and feels a new level of trust among his friends as a result of the $1 Meal, even if he didn’t like it.
Austin Brown is the DOOR City Director in Chicago. This story comes from a Discover group experience in Chicago.
Reflection
by Glenn Balzer
“Thinking is by far the most frightening and dangerous act any human being can perform. People would rather die than be forced to think. A whole nation would rather blow itself to pieces than question its basic values. Whole groups of religious sects all through history have preferred committing mass suicide rather than face the possibility of error or change.”
Victor Villasenor, Crazy Loco Love
One of the more challenging tasks I have struggled with as a parent has to do with passing on my Christian faith to my boys. I would like them to believe like I believe, but I also want them to think for themselves.
Just like my boys, I grew up in a Christian home; it was easy to claim Christianity. As a matter of fact to not claim Christianity would have been hard work and would have led to unwanted family tension. When asked, I described myself as a Christian, but for all intents and purposes Christianity wasn’t really my faith. It was a faith of convenience and peer pressure. I suspect that my experience is not terribly unique and I wonder how similar my boy’s faith journey is to mine.
The good news, for me anyway, is that my faith journey continued and today I can claim a Christian faith of my own. The scary part, at least for some, is that the road to making my faith my own began with questioning everything.
From the basic – why do we go to church on Sunday? To the complex – do those people who preach about the end times even know what they are talking about? To the uncomfortable – why is the church so judgmental? Do we really get to determine who is in and who is out?
This process of questioning everything was instrumental in helping me make Christianity my faith. I do not believe in the same way my parents believed, but that is OK. I suspect that my boys will not believe the same way I believe and one way or another I will have to be OK with that.
Everything is West of Here?
by Matthew Schmitt
“But seek first God’s kingdom and God’s righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” Matthew 6:33- NIV
This week, the Dwellers (young adult volunteers) and I went on a silent prayer walk down Hollywood Boulevard. We started at the Kodak Theater, walked slowly eastward past desperate star-tour peddlers (“I ask for half of what all the people on that block charge”), windows with “surgically-augmented” dominatrix-clad mannequins, and past wide-eyed tourists looking up at the lights and down at the stars.
Upon reaching the famed Hollywood and Vine corner, one sidewalk-seller said to me, “Everything you’re looking for is west of here.” Of course, she assumed I was a tourist as I’m sure I looked rather aimless walking along. Indeed, I had no real agenda or direction. I was just observing, praying, listening.
After all, west of that intersection is the Chinese Theater, Michael Jackson’s star, the El Capitan Theatre and numerous other attractions. There’s Hollywood & Highland, the West Coast wanna-be Times Square, and slightly further is ground zero for the Academy Awards, where miles of red carpet has rolled over the sidewalks and streets. It’s a setting where love looks like paparazzi flashes and sounds like the chatter of entertainment reporters. But is that everything I’m looking for?
South of that intersection is Gregory Avenue, a street where everyone knows your name, home of our Dwellers, of la Casa de la Comunidad, a house that leans over to love you, even if you’re a teenager who tries to prove yourself unlovable. There’s a tree down in that garden which sometimes produces lemons, sometimes limes (it’s either grafting or some cyclical miracle.) North of that intersection is the University of Montana, where nine college kids decided to sacrifice vacation time and drive down as a Discover group, trekking through snowy mountains to meet and delight in the tales of homeless folks, walk in their shoes for a minute, make use of their hands for greeting and giving and open their hearts for listening and receiving. East of that intersection is Homeboy Industries, where they hire gangsters & ex-cons to bake cookies and breads, run restaurants, run businesses, encourage their peers, and stop bullets with jobs.
And east of that intersection is Hollywood Presbyterian Church, where we were headed. That’s the spot that God had smacked me upside-the-head when I was seeking rock-star fame, treasure that fades and dims like flash-bulbs, and dies down like applause. On this prayer walk, at this intersection, a familiar old “crossroads feeling” swells up. I’m deeply involved in a new search as our home flirts with foreclosure and our nerves fray over discerning what’s best for us and our 15-month-old baby girl. I recognize that I’ve been grasping for security and stability in finances and real-estate. I see how I’m spinning myself into something that can be, sadly, rather unlovable.
Be still. Seek first the Kingdom. It’s the same search this time as it was years ago. Only the props are different.
Matthew Schmitt is the DOOR Hollywood City Director. Find Matthew’s original post here, including pictures.
Consensus
by Glenn Balzer
Decision making in groups can be pretty stressful, especially if you are the leader. How do you get everybody to decide on a direction? Then how do you comfort and encourage those who do not agree? I realize that 51% rules in politics, but I would hardly call 51% a mandate.
For the rest of us, especially those of us in church leadership, 51% also tell us that 49% of the people are unhappy. Asking 49% of the people to just “suck it up and get on with life” is not very pastoral and does not lead to unity.
My goal in every decision making process is to arrive at Acts 15:28, “It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us…”
In my experience, getting to a place of unity is not accomplished through “majority rule” decision making. Unity becomes possible when all voices can be heard and everyone is empowered to stop the process and ask questions. I will be the first to admit that this is not efficient and making a decision will require compromise from everyone.
In the last couple of months I have seen this process create unity in unexpected places. Last November I was part of a team that gathered urban leaders from across the country for a consultation in Kansas City. The leaders at this meeting represented all the political, theological and ethnic diversity that makes up the church. Just deciding where to eat was going to be difficult. Our team’s goal was to leave the meeting with a document that everyone could sign.
Last week I was part of a team interviewing candidates for a DOOR City Director. After completing the interviews, we took a quick vote to see where people were at. I was hoping that everyone was on the same page and the decision of who to hire would be quick and easy. This was not the case. The board was evenly divided. This meant I could cast the deciding vote and the losers would just have to “suck it up.” In a rare moment of clarity I did not choose this option. Instead, we moved into a consensus process, allowing everyone to express their opinions and ask questions. This was not an easy process.
In both cases, we were ultimately able to enjoy an Acts 15:28 moment. There is a signed document and a new city director. This did not happen because everyone got their way (consensus requires compromise), but because we created a space where everyone had an equal voice. In doing this we arrived at a place where everyone could be comfortable with what was written and decided.
Love ‘Til It Hurts
by Alayna Hyde
It’s the day of New Year’s Eve. My housemates are just settling in for a day of rest and relaxation. And I’m on my way out the door, heading to work. I chose to take my time off earlier specifically so I could work winter shelter on the holiday.
This year has really been…something. I hadn’t taken time to reflect on it in its entirety until Mark, my co-worker, brought it up over lunch. Honestly, I try pretty hard to avoid looking back. Reminiscing about days past can sometimes bring waves of regret, a sense of loss. Highest highs and lowest lows. Heartache and happiness. Dreams shattered and new dreams born. So I choose to avoid it.
Keep running. Don’t look back. Don’t dwell on the past. It will get better. Just keep running.
I find myself running towards the strangest thing: Glendale’s winter shelter. Why? I have no idea. I can’t get enough. When everything else isn’t going the way I want, I flee to winter shelter. I wake up on days off wishing I had work that night. Yet, when I get back from working, I’m exhausted. Emotionally drained. I don’t know why it’s so taxing–it’s not like I’m really doing much. I don’t know enough yet to really help these people. I don’t know the resources to get them into housing or have all the answers to their questions. I’m definitely no experienced case manager.
Most of what I do is just sit around and talk to them, my homeless friends, as Mark has gotten me in the habit of saying. Talking crosswords and word searches with one woman. Asking another how her recovery from surgery is going. Listening as a man voices the pros and cons of a renewed relationship with his distant father. Encouraging another to keep working with his case manager to get off the streets. Receiving hugs from a sweet little girl with braids running up to greet us as we carry groceries for her family into their cheap hotel room.
So much hurt and hardship. Maybe that is what’s so draining. Being bombarded each time we enter the armory’s doors with a hundred different heartbreaking stories. Staring loneliness and hopelessness straight in the eye each day.
I came home last night, New Year’s Eve, in one of my dazed trances from a full day of work. I passed on going out with everyone to ring in the new year. And as I lay alone in bed, I couldn’t help but wonder why it’s like this: my life completely changed courses, veered off into uncharted waters. Where’s my white picket fence? My New Year’s Eve kiss? What if I’m tired of being independent and on my own? Who even thought this was a good idea?? And could someone puh-leez make Disney pay for making every little girl dream about her own Prince Charming and happily ever after?
Spending my evenings in a homeless shelter with the alcoholics, the drug users, the mentally ill, the unshowered, the outcasts and ignored of our society–what kind of screwed up happily ever after is that? I’m tired. And I’m lonely. And I’m sad. And I want my freakin’ happily ever after, as promised.
Then I heard a whisper, a breeze through my soul, “Love until it hurts…then love more.” So that’s the answer. Love. Infinite, unchanging, healing. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it doesn’t go the way you planned. But love is still the answer. Maybe that is what drives me towards winter shelter, even when I don’t recognize it. What greater purpose, what greater happily-ever-after than to share that love, every day, with others who desperately need it?
Alayna Hyde is spending a year in the DOOR Hollywood Dwell program living in community and exploring urban ministry. She works at PATH Achieve Glendale. Alayna also takes time to blog about her experiences here.
Urban Report Final Version
Below is the final draft of the urban report, with input from the participants at the Urban Leaders Summit. This is the version that will go to the Executive Board of MCUSA and its staff.
The report is the first step in an ongoing conversation. Please continue to participate in the conversation by leaving comments.
UrbanReportv10-Final (Word .doc)
Urban Leaders Summit- Top 5 things you take from all this
What are the Top 5 things you take from reading all this, seeing the photographs, following twitter feeds? What is missing in the report? (posted below in sections)
What are the essential things you want to put into the conversation that is going on in the summit in Kansas City where the others are gathering today?
