Posts
On Sunday one of my homeless friends told me he had reconnected with two of his friends who had invited him to stay at a hotel with them to get a good night’s sleep. He seemed pretty excited to be able to get off the bridge. We agreed that I would pick him up this morning and he’d spend the day at the church office on the computer looking for a job. I got a call from him this morning but it came from the hotel phone. He sounded really down and just said he was ready to go. When I picked him up he was very upset. Seems his friends had invited some other people over as well and one of them had stolen his phone while he was asleep. (Later we learned that one of the people that had invited him over had taken it and traded it for crack). As we drove back to the church building he was talking about how people can’t be depended on and how they always let you down. I suggested that while we’re all human much of what he was experiencing was due to the type of friend he was associating with. Perhaps his future would be different if he hung out with a different crowd.
I’ve mentioned before that Otter Creek has an office and a computer that we have set up to allow people to get on the internet to check email and look for jobs. In addition to that we have a washer and dryer that we installed in the basement. My friend asked if he could wash some clothes as he had not been able to wash in a week or so. And when you only have a couple of changes of clothes because that’s all you want to carry around with you, it helps to be able to wash fairly often. Have you ever thought where you’d wash clothes if you didn’t have any money and no place to live?
By mid-afternoon he had his clothes washed and had located a potential job in East Nashville that he needed to go by in order to fill out an application. As you may have read a few days ago, I had committed to the young lady moving into her apartment that I’d take her to Thriftsmart to purchase a few household items. So my friend and I picked her up and we all went to the thrift store. She was able to buy a set of sheets, 4 bath towels, 4 plates, 2 glasses and a blanket. Pretty simple, pretty basic but all items that most of us take for granted that are in our closets – they’re not for everyone. Thanks to the generosity of Otter Creeker’s who donate items to Thriftsmart we were able to pay for those items with gift cards we receive in exchange for the donations.
As we were heading back to her apartment I got a call from another young woman Otter Creek has helped in the past who was very distraught. She had just confirmed that she was to be evicted tomorrow. All her stuff that she didn’t have packed up was to be set outside her apartment. She knew she was behind on the rent, but for lots of reasons she had not been able to pay. She is 8 months pregnant and has a 2 year old. Her rent is $50/mth and she was 3 months behind. With late fees and other charges she owed $277. Over the past few days I had given her several names of agencies and churches to call to try and get the money. She had been able to get $100. When Otter Creek has helped someone as much as we’ve helped this young lady in the past and she continued to not take the initiative to get a job (or she’d get one and then get fired for not showing up) it’s hard to know if we’d be helping or enabling to step in again. Maybe getting evicted would be the right thing? What would Jesus do? Even more convicting for me is to ask myself, what would I do if Jesus were spending the day with me and he was watching me (not the young lady, but me)? Do I really look at this young woman and see Jesus? If I do, then would I even consider NOT helping?
The reality of being on the street had seemed to raise her sense of urgency. She had called every name I had given her (I thought to myself that I wish she had this same sense of urgency in trying to find a job). I really struggled with what was the right thing to do. It was not a matter of Otter Creek not having the $177. That even made it a little more difficult – the easiest thing to do was to just call the rent office and pledge the amount. But was God present in this opportunity, and if so, where? It was interesting that all of this “drama” was taking place on the phone in my car as I had my homeless friend and the young lady we’d just taken to Thriftsmart listening in. It was obvious to them what was going on so I asked them what they thought Jesus would want to happen. Without hesitation, they said they didn’t think Jesus would want her on the street.
I called a couple of partner churches and each agreed to contribute $50 towards her rent. That left $77 owed so I made the call at 3:50 and told the apartment manager we’d cover her shortage. We’ll see how God moves in that life to draw her back towards him – and we’ll see how God uses Otter Creek to be her family – assuming she decides that’s what she wants. I dropped off the young woman at her apartment with her supplies. She was genuinely joyful to unload her “new stuff”.
Later that night my homeless friend and I stopped for dinner and had a pizza. As dinner was about to end it occurred to me what was soon to happen. My friend and I climbed in my Explorer and we headed towards the bridge. How many times have I been out to eat with friends or business associates and after dinner everyone heads to their home or hotel? I never thought about people who, after dinner, had no place to go except to a bridge for the evening. We arrived at 3rd Ave., I pulled over to the curb. My friend grabbed his backpack, his sleeping bag and his quilt, shook my hand and told me thanks for helping his day turn from one of frustration to one of hope. I drove away with an empty feeling in my stomach just thinking about him sleeping on the bridge. But then again he’s in good company -"Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." Matthew 8:20
4.25.09
Have you ever been in an empty house or apartment? Remember how it had an echo that seemed to reinforce and remind you that it was empty? A young woman that has recently graduated from Mending Hearts called a week ago to tell me she had finally gotten approved for a one bedroom apartment near the TSU campus and wanted to see if Otter Creek’s furniture ministry might be able to help her get “a few things”. She has a full-time job as a waitress so it would be today before we could actually meet at her new place. In the meantime I talked with her on the phone a couple of time to get an idea of what “a few things” meant. After getting the same “a few things” answer each time I asked her what she needed I decided to change the question and ask her what she had. “Nothing”, she said. “I’m sleeping on the wooden floors, but they’re mine”.
On Friday of this week I got this email from an Otter Creek engaged couple (I’ve removed their name references in the email):
Hi Doug,
I read on your blog today about the woman we were able to help with our furniture donation. It is so nice to know that you were able to help someone, and make a difference in their lives, with stuff that we considered junk….very humbling and very moving.
And then I read about how you need diapers because they’re not covered by food stamps, and there’s a huge need for those.
[My fiancé] and I are thinking of making a charitable donation on behalf of all our wedding guests, rather than spending money on favors that will most likely be thrown away.
Other than diapers, is there something else that we could purchase, or do for you, that would aid you in helping the folks you meet? I know you could always use Kroger cards, too.
But if there were a specific need of some sort that we could help with, please let us know.
As you can figure out, a few weeks ago this couple called and asked if I might be able to use some of the excess furniture and household items they had leftover when they combined their two houses as they prepared to get married. This email came on the heels of an earlier one from them where they were asking if I might have a need for more stuff they had pulled together from the consolidation. Not knowing I’d get the call from the woman with the empty apartment, I had told them we could use it and that I’d pick it up on Saturday.
So today, one of my homeless friends and I pulled the Otter Creek trailer to their house and loaded up a bed, a recliner, a TV stand, a china cabinet and a few plastic yard chairs. We then went to the woman’s apartment, walked in and saw that for the last week she had been living in a totally empty apartment. Other than the duffle bag of clothes and toiletries, a portable radio and an air mattress (loaned from the next door neighbor), the apartment vacant. No plates (other than a few paper plates, no TV (a real rarity these days), nothing. We unloaded the donated items. I saw that she had no sheets, pillow or quilt for the bed. We moved the china cabinet to the bedroom where she could use it as a chest of drawers. I asked about basic household stuff. She said she’d get them as she had the time and money. She mentioned she had the day off on Monday so I’ve agreed to pick her up and take her to Thriftsmart where we can use the Otter Creek gift cards and allow her to buy some of these basics. We’ve got a couch still in storage that we 'll get for her on Monday as well. If any of you reading this have time on Monday and want to go with me to pick up this young lady to go to Thriftsmart, drop me an email. I’d love for you to meet her and to hear her story. Know that the work and generosity of Otter Creek members is making a difference in her life.
On Friday of this week I got this email from an Otter Creek engaged couple (I’ve removed their name references in the email):
Hi Doug,
I read on your blog today about the woman we were able to help with our furniture donation. It is so nice to know that you were able to help someone, and make a difference in their lives, with stuff that we considered junk….very humbling and very moving.
And then I read about how you need diapers because they’re not covered by food stamps, and there’s a huge need for those.
[My fiancé] and I are thinking of making a charitable donation on behalf of all our wedding guests, rather than spending money on favors that will most likely be thrown away.
Other than diapers, is there something else that we could purchase, or do for you, that would aid you in helping the folks you meet? I know you could always use Kroger cards, too.
But if there were a specific need of some sort that we could help with, please let us know.
As you can figure out, a few weeks ago this couple called and asked if I might be able to use some of the excess furniture and household items they had leftover when they combined their two houses as they prepared to get married. This email came on the heels of an earlier one from them where they were asking if I might have a need for more stuff they had pulled together from the consolidation. Not knowing I’d get the call from the woman with the empty apartment, I had told them we could use it and that I’d pick it up on Saturday.
So today, one of my homeless friends and I pulled the Otter Creek trailer to their house and loaded up a bed, a recliner, a TV stand, a china cabinet and a few plastic yard chairs. We then went to the woman’s apartment, walked in and saw that for the last week she had been living in a totally empty apartment. Other than the duffle bag of clothes and toiletries, a portable radio and an air mattress (loaned from the next door neighbor), the apartment vacant. No plates (other than a few paper plates, no TV (a real rarity these days), nothing. We unloaded the donated items. I saw that she had no sheets, pillow or quilt for the bed. We moved the china cabinet to the bedroom where she could use it as a chest of drawers. I asked about basic household stuff. She said she’d get them as she had the time and money. She mentioned she had the day off on Monday so I’ve agreed to pick her up and take her to Thriftsmart where we can use the Otter Creek gift cards and allow her to buy some of these basics. We’ve got a couch still in storage that we 'll get for her on Monday as well. If any of you reading this have time on Monday and want to go with me to pick up this young lady to go to Thriftsmart, drop me an email. I’d love for you to meet her and to hear her story. Know that the work and generosity of Otter Creek members is making a difference in her life.
4.23.09
I got a call late yesterday from a member of another congregation who has been providing Thursday evening dinner for the residents of Tent City for the past several months. He was calling to say that he was out of town and the volunteers he had lined up to serve this evening had been called away. He asked if I might be willing to find some people to help serve.
I made a few calls but the late notice and people’s busy schedules did not turn up anyone able to go with me. Having not ever served at this “feeding” before I wasn’t sure how much help was needed. So I decided to call one of my homeless friends that over the past several months Otter Creek had helped with various needs. He was more than willing to help serve his fellow homeless friends. So I arranged to pick him up in front of the downtown public library – he spends quite a bit of time in the library to both read and have access to the computer.
We headed down to Tent City where the table, cooler of chili and pan of cornbread had been set up by the one volunteer who was able to bring the food to the “feeding site”. As we pulled up I felt a strange sense of connectedness. I saw people from Tent City that I knew. I saw Papa Smurf (see Holy Week on the Street blog entries) lining up to get his bowl of chili. There was my outreach worker friend who helps take care of the pets of homeless friends. Already lining up to serve was another friend who lives at Tent City. These people know Otter Creek and what that community stands for in our desire to be a sojourner with them – not an enabler, not a church of hand outs and one who looks down on those in need. I was proud to be able to help serve the 30 or so people lining up for dinner.
Once everyone had their fill there was still a couple of quarts of chili left over along with a dozen cornbread rolls. We divided them up and handed out the leftovers to a few of the Tent City residents to take back to their encampments to share with those who didn’t show up for dinner. I was really proud of my friend who stepped up to help serve as well as get his dinner for the evening. You see, when we left Tent City I took him to one of the bridges in downtown Nashville where he’ll be spending the night. He told me about meeting a couple of new homeless people last night who showed up on the bridge at about 9PM looking for something to eat. It was too late by then so he shared his space with them and offered to take them to breakfast in the morning. He asked me if I had any extra blankets that he might give them for tonight. Once again, thanks to the generosity of the Otter Creek community I was able to reach in the back of my Explorer and hand him 4 blankets and a pillow to give his new companions. As we unloaded the blankets and his backpack from my Explorer on the side of 2nd Ave, I saw people crossing to the other side of the street to avoid having to make contact with us.
After wishing him goodnight, I headed to one of Nashville’s housing projects with several bags of groceries. One of Otter Creek’s families had taken it on themselves to buy 4 bags of groceries and household supplies and give them to me yesterday – just showed up at my office with the blessing of the food. As I drove up, the single mom looked out of her door, recognized me and came out to see what was going on. When I asked her if she could use some groceries, her eyes teared up as she told me that she had just given her last food stamps to some of her neighbors in repayment of loans they had given her a few weeks earlier. As we unloaded the food I reached in the bag and pulled out 3 rolls of toilet paper. She hugged the rolls and said “Thank God”. Food is good, but toilet paper is one of those simple essentials that most of us overlook – but not this mom. If you’re interested in helping families like this, send me an email. As you can tell, no offering is too small. I continue to be proud to be a part of a community of people who love God and are continually thinking of how they can share their blessings with others.
I made a few calls but the late notice and people’s busy schedules did not turn up anyone able to go with me. Having not ever served at this “feeding” before I wasn’t sure how much help was needed. So I decided to call one of my homeless friends that over the past several months Otter Creek had helped with various needs. He was more than willing to help serve his fellow homeless friends. So I arranged to pick him up in front of the downtown public library – he spends quite a bit of time in the library to both read and have access to the computer.
We headed down to Tent City where the table, cooler of chili and pan of cornbread had been set up by the one volunteer who was able to bring the food to the “feeding site”. As we pulled up I felt a strange sense of connectedness. I saw people from Tent City that I knew. I saw Papa Smurf (see Holy Week on the Street blog entries) lining up to get his bowl of chili. There was my outreach worker friend who helps take care of the pets of homeless friends. Already lining up to serve was another friend who lives at Tent City. These people know Otter Creek and what that community stands for in our desire to be a sojourner with them – not an enabler, not a church of hand outs and one who looks down on those in need. I was proud to be able to help serve the 30 or so people lining up for dinner.
Once everyone had their fill there was still a couple of quarts of chili left over along with a dozen cornbread rolls. We divided them up and handed out the leftovers to a few of the Tent City residents to take back to their encampments to share with those who didn’t show up for dinner. I was really proud of my friend who stepped up to help serve as well as get his dinner for the evening. You see, when we left Tent City I took him to one of the bridges in downtown Nashville where he’ll be spending the night. He told me about meeting a couple of new homeless people last night who showed up on the bridge at about 9PM looking for something to eat. It was too late by then so he shared his space with them and offered to take them to breakfast in the morning. He asked me if I had any extra blankets that he might give them for tonight. Once again, thanks to the generosity of the Otter Creek community I was able to reach in the back of my Explorer and hand him 4 blankets and a pillow to give his new companions. As we unloaded the blankets and his backpack from my Explorer on the side of 2nd Ave, I saw people crossing to the other side of the street to avoid having to make contact with us.
After wishing him goodnight, I headed to one of Nashville’s housing projects with several bags of groceries. One of Otter Creek’s families had taken it on themselves to buy 4 bags of groceries and household supplies and give them to me yesterday – just showed up at my office with the blessing of the food. As I drove up, the single mom looked out of her door, recognized me and came out to see what was going on. When I asked her if she could use some groceries, her eyes teared up as she told me that she had just given her last food stamps to some of her neighbors in repayment of loans they had given her a few weeks earlier. As we unloaded the food I reached in the bag and pulled out 3 rolls of toilet paper. She hugged the rolls and said “Thank God”. Food is good, but toilet paper is one of those simple essentials that most of us overlook – but not this mom. If you’re interested in helping families like this, send me an email. As you can tell, no offering is too small. I continue to be proud to be a part of a community of people who love God and are continually thinking of how they can share their blessings with others.
4.22.09
How irritating is it to stand in line at the grocery checkout counter and be behind someone paying with food stamps? What goes through your mind as you see her sorting the groceries trying to make a mental note of what all she has purchased and then you see her pull out a red, white and blue plastic card and give it to the cashier? As you look at how the person in front of you is dressed and determine they are probably going to have to pay with food stamps do you start looking at what they are buying, what brands they are purchasing and find yourself questioning why they can buy certain items that even you don’t feel you can justify?
Rather than me tell you what all is involved in qualifying for food stamps, much less how much you receive, much less the actual process of applying for and then recertifying for the benefit why not try to figure it out yourself (www.tennessee.gov/humanserv/adfam/fs_1.htm)? Were you aware that there are quite a few items that you cannot purchase with food stamps? You aren’t able to buy washing detergent. You can’t buy toilet paper or any feminine hygiene products. And you can’t buy diapers for your children.
Not too long ago I stopped by the apartment of a single mom who Otter Creek has been helping make ends meet. When she moved in we had helped furnish her apartment with a couch, a recliner and other basic furniture. Now 6 months later when I walked into her apartment I noticed that the couch and recliner were gone. In its place was a folded up pile of quilts that the children were sitting on. As we caught up on what had been going on I learned that she had gotten rid of the furniture in the past few weeks. She had to throw both pieces away because her young children had urinated on them. She was not able to afford to keep the kids in diapers all the time so when they were asleep on the couch or sitting on the recliner and watching TV they wet the upholstery. She had tried to clean it but it was no use. A few days later, thanks to the generosity of an Otter Creek family, we delivered her another couch and recliner and a case of diapers.
Hardly a week goes by that we don’t get a call from a mom looking for some kind of financial assistance. It never fails that once we start our conversation and I ask about diapers I find out she could definitely use them. The holiday gift card program that many Otter Creeker’s contribute to helps purchase diapers throughout the year. However, I’ve just updated the left side of my blog (Current Ministry Needs) to offer you the chance to make a direct contribution of diapers to this ministry. I’m more than happy to come by your house and pick up any diapers you might want to contribute. There’s no best size, brand or quantity. Literally anything will work. Your contribution will be a blessing to those who aren’t able to afford this basic necessity. Fortunately, if you’re reading this it’s likely that you won’t have to worry about the fact that food stamps don’t pay for diapers. Thanks in advance for your willingness to step up and help out.
Rather than me tell you what all is involved in qualifying for food stamps, much less how much you receive, much less the actual process of applying for and then recertifying for the benefit why not try to figure it out yourself (www.tennessee.gov/humanserv/adfam/fs_1.htm)? Were you aware that there are quite a few items that you cannot purchase with food stamps? You aren’t able to buy washing detergent. You can’t buy toilet paper or any feminine hygiene products. And you can’t buy diapers for your children.
Not too long ago I stopped by the apartment of a single mom who Otter Creek has been helping make ends meet. When she moved in we had helped furnish her apartment with a couch, a recliner and other basic furniture. Now 6 months later when I walked into her apartment I noticed that the couch and recliner were gone. In its place was a folded up pile of quilts that the children were sitting on. As we caught up on what had been going on I learned that she had gotten rid of the furniture in the past few weeks. She had to throw both pieces away because her young children had urinated on them. She was not able to afford to keep the kids in diapers all the time so when they were asleep on the couch or sitting on the recliner and watching TV they wet the upholstery. She had tried to clean it but it was no use. A few days later, thanks to the generosity of an Otter Creek family, we delivered her another couch and recliner and a case of diapers.
Hardly a week goes by that we don’t get a call from a mom looking for some kind of financial assistance. It never fails that once we start our conversation and I ask about diapers I find out she could definitely use them. The holiday gift card program that many Otter Creeker’s contribute to helps purchase diapers throughout the year. However, I’ve just updated the left side of my blog (Current Ministry Needs) to offer you the chance to make a direct contribution of diapers to this ministry. I’m more than happy to come by your house and pick up any diapers you might want to contribute. There’s no best size, brand or quantity. Literally anything will work. Your contribution will be a blessing to those who aren’t able to afford this basic necessity. Fortunately, if you’re reading this it’s likely that you won’t have to worry about the fact that food stamps don’t pay for diapers. Thanks in advance for your willingness to step up and help out.
4.20.09
Counseling is something that I do, but not something I feel particularly gifted in doing. On the other hand, listening is a talent that I continue to try and cultivate. It was never one of my strong points until I realized that my pride and ego were getting the in the way of most of my listening – I just wasn’t really interested in hearing what other’s had to say unless it benefited me. Over the years I hope I’ve started to develop a more mature sense of desire to listen to others because of them and their story – not out of what it might do for me. But being able to take a story and interpret it for the person or ask the insightful questions in order to help direct the person into a deeper understanding of what’s going on in their life – now that’s a gift that I’m still very new in using. It seems I typically think of the response to a story hours or days after I’ve had the meeting with the individual.
Recently I was listening to a person tell of their struggling relationship and trying to get a grasp of some reason and some hope. One thing they said has stuck with me. As he spoke he said that he felt he had been living a lie for many years in trying to put on a show of being a good person, a good spouse and a good parent. That all of that was not who he really was. And that now he was giving up lying to himself and other and had decided to live out who he felt he really was. In this case who he really was seemed to be was a person that disliked taking on responsibility, would prefer to live a life that many would consider immoral, and basically wanted to be left alone and allowed to take on each day on his own terms.
I found this assessment interesting. I listened as he talked and didn’t try to respond or provide any profound insight. As I have reflected on his rationale and reasoning for his thoughts and actions here’s what I wished I would have said. How you are feeling now and acting now - who you way you really are – that’s may be actually more right than you realize. In fact that may be who most of us are. The difference is that we have made the decision not to give in to who we really are. We have decided to kill that person and allow God (or a power greater than ourselves) to bring forth another person who lives in this body. It’s that new creature that I now seek to nurture and bring forth through my own actions and through the power of the one that gave me this new life. It’s not something I can do myself. Every time I try to take over, I fail and start to allow my new self to begin moving back to what that old life looked like. The challenge for me is to learn how to give up and get out of the driver’s seat. It’s a risk, but one that I’m willing to make. I know the immediacy of the gratification of giving in will never equal the long term reward if I will but hang in there. (I think that’s what we call faith and hope).
I talk to and see people every day that seem to be wondering around looking for hope. It’s when we get our own story together and are capable of being a witness for the hope we have that our light begins to shine. I’m thankful to be in a church that encourages and allows people to express their fears and question their hope. I’m also thankful to be surrounded by many people who are willing to confess their daily struggle to keep their hope grounded in a God that loves them and longs to see them transformed into a new creature living an abundant life. It’s that community that I need to be a part of.
Recently I was listening to a person tell of their struggling relationship and trying to get a grasp of some reason and some hope. One thing they said has stuck with me. As he spoke he said that he felt he had been living a lie for many years in trying to put on a show of being a good person, a good spouse and a good parent. That all of that was not who he really was. And that now he was giving up lying to himself and other and had decided to live out who he felt he really was. In this case who he really was seemed to be was a person that disliked taking on responsibility, would prefer to live a life that many would consider immoral, and basically wanted to be left alone and allowed to take on each day on his own terms.
I found this assessment interesting. I listened as he talked and didn’t try to respond or provide any profound insight. As I have reflected on his rationale and reasoning for his thoughts and actions here’s what I wished I would have said. How you are feeling now and acting now - who you way you really are – that’s may be actually more right than you realize. In fact that may be who most of us are. The difference is that we have made the decision not to give in to who we really are. We have decided to kill that person and allow God (or a power greater than ourselves) to bring forth another person who lives in this body. It’s that new creature that I now seek to nurture and bring forth through my own actions and through the power of the one that gave me this new life. It’s not something I can do myself. Every time I try to take over, I fail and start to allow my new self to begin moving back to what that old life looked like. The challenge for me is to learn how to give up and get out of the driver’s seat. It’s a risk, but one that I’m willing to make. I know the immediacy of the gratification of giving in will never equal the long term reward if I will but hang in there. (I think that’s what we call faith and hope).
I talk to and see people every day that seem to be wondering around looking for hope. It’s when we get our own story together and are capable of being a witness for the hope we have that our light begins to shine. I’m thankful to be in a church that encourages and allows people to express their fears and question their hope. I’m also thankful to be surrounded by many people who are willing to confess their daily struggle to keep their hope grounded in a God that loves them and longs to see them transformed into a new creature living an abundant life. It’s that community that I need to be a part of.
4.17.09
The volume of calls coming into the Otter Creek office is continuing to grow. This fact, I suspect, results from a combination of the tough economic times as well as the fact that we now get a significant portion of our calls for help from referrals from people we’ve helped at times in the past. Otter Creek is blessed to have a “benevolence” budget that has the flexibility to respond to calls for help both from our own members as well as people from the greater Nashville community. Our approach is that if one of our members calls for help we give them our focus and attention and commit to do whatever we can to help support them. If someone calls and in the course of the conversation of learning about their need we learn that they have a “home church”, we do whatever we can to help them. We define “home church” as a community of people who believe that Jesus is the son of God who lived, died and was raised again. Some people call this the catholic (little “c”) church. We believe we’re all of the same body and our call is to treat all parts of the body as we do the parts of our own body. How we help and support depends on the individual needs, but it almost always starts with us asking to connect to the minister or pastor or that person’s home church. In many instances, after talking with that pastor and determining that help is justified, we direct our support to that other church and ask that they then direct the help to the member. We’re not in the recruiting business of trying to use our ability and blessing of being able to help in order to get someone to try out our church community. I tell people everyday that I don’t really care where they go to church as much as I care that they are just a part of a church – and I don’t mean what they do for a few hours on Sunday morning. Committing to be an active member in a church community is vital to growing to look more like Christ and encouraging that is as big a part of this ministry as our direct help. For the people who call for help and who say they don’t have a church home, one of our goals (in addition to helping meet their needs) is to encourage them to realize they can’t “do it” alone and to find a church home. If they don’t know one, then we offer to connect them with one that will love them and accept them right where they are and then walk with them as they work to look more like Jesus.
Partnering with other churches and groups who minister to our community is one way Otter Creek tries to honor God with the blessings we have. Got a call today from an inner city ministry looking for a few dollars (less than $100) to help a lady they are ministering to pay the deductible to get an MRI. They called us because they didn’t have the funds to help. They know us and we know them. They have a relationship with this lady and we don’t. As different parts of the same body, it makes sense that we would use our financial resources to help support another group who has the relationship with this lady. That’s one of the ways that different parts of the Otter Creek body (i.e. those that are able to financially support Otter Creek) help and encourage other parts of the body to more completely live out their function.
And it’s not just money. We took a call from a social worker in a local school district who had heard about Otter Creek’s furniture ministry. She had a student that she was working with who was in a family situation where there were no beds in the house. She called Otter Creek to see if we had beds – which we did thanks to the generosity of Otter Creek members who had donated them to the furniture ministry. So with just a couple of calls, we were able to connect with the social worker as well as the mother of the student and make arrangements to deliver her a couple of beds. We now have a friend in the social worker – who said she sure wished her church had programs like the ones at Otter Creek. We also have the open door to get to know this family in need by being able to offer help in a critical area. It’s a beautiful thing when all the parts of the body can work together – we have the chance to look more like Jesus than we could by acting independently.
Partnering with other churches and groups who minister to our community is one way Otter Creek tries to honor God with the blessings we have. Got a call today from an inner city ministry looking for a few dollars (less than $100) to help a lady they are ministering to pay the deductible to get an MRI. They called us because they didn’t have the funds to help. They know us and we know them. They have a relationship with this lady and we don’t. As different parts of the same body, it makes sense that we would use our financial resources to help support another group who has the relationship with this lady. That’s one of the ways that different parts of the Otter Creek body (i.e. those that are able to financially support Otter Creek) help and encourage other parts of the body to more completely live out their function.
And it’s not just money. We took a call from a social worker in a local school district who had heard about Otter Creek’s furniture ministry. She had a student that she was working with who was in a family situation where there were no beds in the house. She called Otter Creek to see if we had beds – which we did thanks to the generosity of Otter Creek members who had donated them to the furniture ministry. So with just a couple of calls, we were able to connect with the social worker as well as the mother of the student and make arrangements to deliver her a couple of beds. We now have a friend in the social worker – who said she sure wished her church had programs like the ones at Otter Creek. We also have the open door to get to know this family in need by being able to offer help in a critical area. It’s a beautiful thing when all the parts of the body can work together – we have the chance to look more like Jesus than we could by acting independently.
4.9.09 Holy Week on the Street - Part 4
We took the short-cut from Tent City to the Korean Veterans Bridge. This meant walking down the railroad tracks that run along beside the river back to the bridge. When our friends at Tent City learned where we were heading they told us about this time saver. And it turned out to be a great tip. While I was a little uneasy about both the trip on the railroad tracks and the fact that we walked right past the “No Trespassing” signs, we were getting pretty sore from the walking and anything that could save us 30 minutes was worth the trouble.
As we walked and talked among ourselves one of the guys and I started to chat in more detail. Over the last several hours I had told him about Otter Creek, who we were, who we were trying to be and the blessing I felt I had to be able to follow my calling in such a place. Turns out this man was Jewish and was pretty emphatic in his conviction that, although he believed in Jesus as a great teacher and prophet, he could not bring himself to believe Jesus was the Son of God. But he told me that as he had listened to different stories of ministry and outreach, stories of relationship and disappointment, times of relapse and reunion and, most importantly, stories of hope and the motivation for hanging in there he said it was becoming clearer how someone could continue to do this work and not lose hope. At some point I’ve become convinced that it’s not my job or the job of the church to “fix” anybody (I know most of us would say that, but our actions and our responses to other’s behaviors reveals our real belief). It’s our job to be the hands and feet of Jesus, to serve and love as he did and to remain faithful in spite of how others act. As my travelling companion heard this he confessed to me that our time together was helping him see that without the hope of an ultimate reconciliation and a “making all things right” much of our work would end in frustration and burn-out. And while he wasn’t ready to personally accept that Jesus was alive and active, he could see how that belief permeated and shaped actions that went beyond social concern and causes. I’m looking forward to our future conversations together.
We made it across the bridge and into East Nashville where we turned down South 7th only to see a site that made our stomachs ache. The parking lot of the church where Ken and Carol’s was located was completely vacant. No people standing in line being served a hot lunch. Turns out that Ken and Carol’s decided to honor Good Friday by being closed. We didn’t know that and had made the decision to not go to the lunch being offered under the Jefferson St. bridge so we could experience Ken and Carol’s. Now we were faced with not only not having had breakfast, but now not getting to eat lunch. There’s nothing we could do except sit down on the sidewalk, gather up our strength and try to figure out our next move. Someone suggested we go dumpster diving to see what we could find to eat. The problem with that idea was that we were nowhere near a grocery store or restaurant that might have a thrown out day old or leftover food. Someone else suggested it was time to start panhandling for a few dollars so that we could go and buy some food. But we were on South 7th and Shelby – not much sympathy for panhandlers in the James Cayce projects. So with empty stomachs and low energy we decided our best hope of getting something to eat was to head back across the river and into town and there to panhandle folks on the street for a few dollars.
Another 45 minutes back into town across the Woodland Street bridge. It was now close to 1PM. Our 24 hours on the street was supposed to end at 3:30. As we came off the bridge in front of City Hall the tornado sirens went off! (These were the same storms that would eventually hit Murfreesboro) We had not listened to a radio or seen a TV in the past day so we had no idea the weather was turning violent. We had dodged the rain since the sun had come up and while it was windy and sprinkling occasionally, we had no indication of impending storms. So we headed to the underground parking lot that serves City Hall. We walked down 3 flights of stairs and took our seat on the steps to wait for the sirens to stop and the storm to pass. No chance to panhandle, no chance to dumpster dive. We were hungry and tired and stuck in a stairwell 3 floors underground. It didn’t take long to figure out the sirens would blast for 5 minutes, then be off for 5 minutes. When they were screaming we couldn’t even talk to each other they were so loud. At 1:30 two of our group were going to have to leave and head back to “real life” and to their jobs. This was not the way I had planned to say our good-byes but 1:30 came with the sirens blasting and us in the stairwell and still hungry. So two of our group decided to get wet (again) and head out.
The rest of us unrolled our blankets on the concrete landing and tried to get a nap. 30 minutes into his nap, one of our group said he had to go find a bathroom and headed up the stairs and out into the storm. The rest of us dozed off. About 15 minutes later he returned with a Subway sandwich bag!! “How did you get that?”, we asked. “Pretty simple, I walked into Subway and told them, ‘I’m starving and homeless. Would you happen to have some old bread you could give me?’”. Seems the manager had pity on him and fixed him a sandwich, gave him a bag of ships and a cup of soda. Rather than eating it himself, he had brought it back to our group. So sitting 3 floors underground, we spread out the sandwich bag and split the banquet meal between everyone! While I chose not to eat (I was still on my Lent fast from 6AM-6PM), I’ve never seen a group enjoy and savor a few morsels as much as they did that sandwich. It seemed to revive spirits to push ahead to the end of our day. As the meal was consumed we realized the sirens had stopped so we decided to head back up the streets and towards our last stop for the day.
Nashville has a great downtown library that I had never explored. I love books, but I also have the blessing of just being able to buy a book when I hear of one worth reading. I confess and now realize that’s not how most of the world operates. We entered the downtown library and headed up to the 2nd floor where I learned are archived books and video viewing rooms explaining Nashville’s civil rights history. We sat and watched news clips and documentaries about life in the late 50’s and early 60’s in Nashville. And how our city struggled to come to terms with its segregation and prejudice against African Americans. I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind and wondered if we might be in a similar period of segregation and prejudice against all people in poverty. The images I saw and the feelings that were expressed sounded all too familiar in light of what our group had experienced in the last 24 hours. We were welcomed by a few, cursed by some and ignored by most. We felt community with people in similar situations but ostracized by those who saw us as too different from them. We knew we were no different, but our outside appearance and our behaviors told a different story and that’s how most people judged us.
My 24 hours on the street exposed me to many more thoughts and emotions than I had anticipated. We met up with the next group at 3:30 in the park just across Church St. from the entrance to the library. We handed them our blankets, prayed with them and then said our good-byes to each other. I sure hope we are able to gather back together again in a few weeks to process what this has meant to each of us. And while I’m not sure what all I will take away from my time on the streets, I do know one thing. I know that if Jesus were still walking among us today, he’d be at the bus stops talking to folks, he’d be on the streets of Broadway spending time with the lady and her dog, he’d be looking for a place to stay dry in the middle of a rain storm and he’d be laughing with Papa Smurf while sitting by the fire barrel under the tarp. What scares me is that he may actually be in all those places and, like the “regular folks” in downtown Nashville, he’s invisible to me because I’m just too caught up in my own world to notice him. God open my eyes and open my heart to see and to love.
As we walked and talked among ourselves one of the guys and I started to chat in more detail. Over the last several hours I had told him about Otter Creek, who we were, who we were trying to be and the blessing I felt I had to be able to follow my calling in such a place. Turns out this man was Jewish and was pretty emphatic in his conviction that, although he believed in Jesus as a great teacher and prophet, he could not bring himself to believe Jesus was the Son of God. But he told me that as he had listened to different stories of ministry and outreach, stories of relationship and disappointment, times of relapse and reunion and, most importantly, stories of hope and the motivation for hanging in there he said it was becoming clearer how someone could continue to do this work and not lose hope. At some point I’ve become convinced that it’s not my job or the job of the church to “fix” anybody (I know most of us would say that, but our actions and our responses to other’s behaviors reveals our real belief). It’s our job to be the hands and feet of Jesus, to serve and love as he did and to remain faithful in spite of how others act. As my travelling companion heard this he confessed to me that our time together was helping him see that without the hope of an ultimate reconciliation and a “making all things right” much of our work would end in frustration and burn-out. And while he wasn’t ready to personally accept that Jesus was alive and active, he could see how that belief permeated and shaped actions that went beyond social concern and causes. I’m looking forward to our future conversations together.
We made it across the bridge and into East Nashville where we turned down South 7th only to see a site that made our stomachs ache. The parking lot of the church where Ken and Carol’s was located was completely vacant. No people standing in line being served a hot lunch. Turns out that Ken and Carol’s decided to honor Good Friday by being closed. We didn’t know that and had made the decision to not go to the lunch being offered under the Jefferson St. bridge so we could experience Ken and Carol’s. Now we were faced with not only not having had breakfast, but now not getting to eat lunch. There’s nothing we could do except sit down on the sidewalk, gather up our strength and try to figure out our next move. Someone suggested we go dumpster diving to see what we could find to eat. The problem with that idea was that we were nowhere near a grocery store or restaurant that might have a thrown out day old or leftover food. Someone else suggested it was time to start panhandling for a few dollars so that we could go and buy some food. But we were on South 7th and Shelby – not much sympathy for panhandlers in the James Cayce projects. So with empty stomachs and low energy we decided our best hope of getting something to eat was to head back across the river and into town and there to panhandle folks on the street for a few dollars.
Another 45 minutes back into town across the Woodland Street bridge. It was now close to 1PM. Our 24 hours on the street was supposed to end at 3:30. As we came off the bridge in front of City Hall the tornado sirens went off! (These were the same storms that would eventually hit Murfreesboro) We had not listened to a radio or seen a TV in the past day so we had no idea the weather was turning violent. We had dodged the rain since the sun had come up and while it was windy and sprinkling occasionally, we had no indication of impending storms. So we headed to the underground parking lot that serves City Hall. We walked down 3 flights of stairs and took our seat on the steps to wait for the sirens to stop and the storm to pass. No chance to panhandle, no chance to dumpster dive. We were hungry and tired and stuck in a stairwell 3 floors underground. It didn’t take long to figure out the sirens would blast for 5 minutes, then be off for 5 minutes. When they were screaming we couldn’t even talk to each other they were so loud. At 1:30 two of our group were going to have to leave and head back to “real life” and to their jobs. This was not the way I had planned to say our good-byes but 1:30 came with the sirens blasting and us in the stairwell and still hungry. So two of our group decided to get wet (again) and head out.
The rest of us unrolled our blankets on the concrete landing and tried to get a nap. 30 minutes into his nap, one of our group said he had to go find a bathroom and headed up the stairs and out into the storm. The rest of us dozed off. About 15 minutes later he returned with a Subway sandwich bag!! “How did you get that?”, we asked. “Pretty simple, I walked into Subway and told them, ‘I’m starving and homeless. Would you happen to have some old bread you could give me?’”. Seems the manager had pity on him and fixed him a sandwich, gave him a bag of ships and a cup of soda. Rather than eating it himself, he had brought it back to our group. So sitting 3 floors underground, we spread out the sandwich bag and split the banquet meal between everyone! While I chose not to eat (I was still on my Lent fast from 6AM-6PM), I’ve never seen a group enjoy and savor a few morsels as much as they did that sandwich. It seemed to revive spirits to push ahead to the end of our day. As the meal was consumed we realized the sirens had stopped so we decided to head back up the streets and towards our last stop for the day.
Nashville has a great downtown library that I had never explored. I love books, but I also have the blessing of just being able to buy a book when I hear of one worth reading. I confess and now realize that’s not how most of the world operates. We entered the downtown library and headed up to the 2nd floor where I learned are archived books and video viewing rooms explaining Nashville’s civil rights history. We sat and watched news clips and documentaries about life in the late 50’s and early 60’s in Nashville. And how our city struggled to come to terms with its segregation and prejudice against African Americans. I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind and wondered if we might be in a similar period of segregation and prejudice against all people in poverty. The images I saw and the feelings that were expressed sounded all too familiar in light of what our group had experienced in the last 24 hours. We were welcomed by a few, cursed by some and ignored by most. We felt community with people in similar situations but ostracized by those who saw us as too different from them. We knew we were no different, but our outside appearance and our behaviors told a different story and that’s how most people judged us.
My 24 hours on the street exposed me to many more thoughts and emotions than I had anticipated. We met up with the next group at 3:30 in the park just across Church St. from the entrance to the library. We handed them our blankets, prayed with them and then said our good-byes to each other. I sure hope we are able to gather back together again in a few weeks to process what this has meant to each of us. And while I’m not sure what all I will take away from my time on the streets, I do know one thing. I know that if Jesus were still walking among us today, he’d be at the bus stops talking to folks, he’d be on the streets of Broadway spending time with the lady and her dog, he’d be looking for a place to stay dry in the middle of a rain storm and he’d be laughing with Papa Smurf while sitting by the fire barrel under the tarp. What scares me is that he may actually be in all those places and, like the “regular folks” in downtown Nashville, he’s invisible to me because I’m just too caught up in my own world to notice him. God open my eyes and open my heart to see and to love.
4.9.09 Holy Week on the Street - Part 3
Through the windows of the church we could see the clouds parting and the sun starting to come up. Given the cold, wet night we had just experienced it was a real joy to think we’d be able to spend some time back outside in the sunshine. Since we had arrived at the church building my homeless friend had gotten his clothes dried and had taken a short nap. As our group gathered around a candle we had placed on the floor to act as a focal point for our devotional, he stood up and walked out. I assumed he’d be back, but as it turned out, he was gone for the rest of the day – headed back to his hotel room for a good day’s sleep. After putting up with our group, he
certainly deserved it.
Our group read scriptures and shared some of our feelings and thoughts from the prior evening. It was a pretty quite group. Everyone was tired, but I perceived we were each struggling to put into words and come to grips with what we had seen and experienced. I for one did not have the words to express much of what I wanted to convey. I did know that I was changing my perceptions of what it meant to be homeless. And the recognition of Jesus’ last week as a homeless man in the city of Jerusalem was taking on a different meaning for me.
We gathered up our packs and a new set of blankets for everyone and headed out. Our destination was Tent City. I’d guess that’s a 3 mile walk from East Nashville, across the pedestrian bridge then south on 1st and back down towards the banks of the Cumberland where there are now 30 or so people living in huts and tents. It was close to 9AM when we got to Papa Smurf’s camp at Tent City. Smurf is a middle aged man who has strung up a very large tarp in the woods of Tent City and under that tarp a small community has formed. There are 4 or 5 tents under the tarp. In the center of the covered area is a fire barrel and cooktop. There’s a workbench area and a kitchen area as well. The ground has been covered with gravel and there are chairs, sofas and beds spread out to make this feel as welcoming as any living room I’ve ever visited. Smurf and his friends were expecting us. The prior night’s group had stayed there overnight and told of the different Holy Week groups and to be on the lookout for us. Smurf was busy building wooden crosses from branches and pieces of wood that he’d collected. He was building in inventory of crosses to take to a flea market outside of town on the upcoming weekend. He had his tools, his roll of copper wiring and his paint area all under the tarp. As we called out his name when we came upon the tent we heard his reply back to come on in and make ourselves at home. We entered under the tarp and the stinging sense of fire smoke hit our eyes. I was almost immediately blinded by the smoke. Smurf said to come on in and sit down to get below the rising smoke until we got used to it. I quickly sat down on the sofa and almost as quickly as I had been blinded, my eyes cleared up and I was enveloped in a dry heat that felt so good it was hard to describe. The power of the fire barrel and the roaring fire in it, heated the area under the tarp to 80 degrees (my guess). Having just gotten dried off and then walked in the cool of the morning this was like walking into a dry sauna. Even as we tried to be friendly and conversational with Smurf and his friends, our group quickly unrolled their blankets on the gravel and curled up and went to sleep. Smurf could see the fatigue in everyone and he was most understanding – after all, he had work to do and no one was bothering anyone else so he just went about his business as we crashed. I felt some responsibility to stay awake since everyone else seemed to have literally passed out. (I’ve always been that way). So Smurf and chatted about everything from his work, to his life, his family and his future plans. If there was ever a picture of community and acceptance, our group experienced it during our time at Tent City with Papa Smurf. Now don’t get to thinking that this is some utopia. He told of his battle with the rat just the previous night. Seems there’s a very large rat that they have not been able to kill who just last night got into their food and ate most of their bread. By the time they were awaken by the sound, it was too late and the rat was again able to escape – by running across the bed of a couple of people who were still asleep! (I knew there was a reason why I didn’t go to sleep like everyone else..) Smurf continually asked us if we needed anything, that anything they had we were welcome to have. I was humbled and touched by their hospitality and friendliness. I’ve been to Tent City many times, but each time before it was to serve the people living there. This experience of being served was uncomfortable and unsettling for me. Just as I would much prefer to wash feet than have mine washed, I much prefer to serve than to be served. I’ve taken comfort in the “more blessed to give than to receive” saying of Jesus. What I think I’ve failed to realize is that it’s in receiving that the “more blessed to give” gains relativity. One of my commitments coming out of this experience is to take a little more time and be open to occasionally receiving – even from those whom I might feel are not in a position to give – so that as I, in turn, live a life to give, I can be in a better position to be even “more blessed”.
I woke up the group about 10:15. If we were to try and eat lunch then we needed to be heading out. None of us had eaten breakfast and our stomachs were starting to remind us we needed (or so we thought) to get something to eat. We said our thank you’s and good-bye and headed back towards the river bridge and back into East Nashville. It was Friday (actually is was Good Friday) and a special place off Shelby called Ken and Carol’s opened up for free lunch at 11:30.
certainly deserved it.
Our group read scriptures and shared some of our feelings and thoughts from the prior evening. It was a pretty quite group. Everyone was tired, but I perceived we were each struggling to put into words and come to grips with what we had seen and experienced. I for one did not have the words to express much of what I wanted to convey. I did know that I was changing my perceptions of what it meant to be homeless. And the recognition of Jesus’ last week as a homeless man in the city of Jerusalem was taking on a different meaning for me.
We gathered up our packs and a new set of blankets for everyone and headed out. Our destination was Tent City. I’d guess that’s a 3 mile walk from East Nashville, across the pedestrian bridge then south on 1st and back down towards the banks of the Cumberland where there are now 30 or so people living in huts and tents. It was close to 9AM when we got to Papa Smurf’s camp at Tent City. Smurf is a middle aged man who has strung up a very large tarp in the woods of Tent City and under that tarp a small community has formed. There are 4 or 5 tents under the tarp. In the center of the covered area is a fire barrel and cooktop. There’s a workbench area and a kitchen area as well. The ground has been covered with gravel and there are chairs, sofas and beds spread out to make this feel as welcoming as any living room I’ve ever visited. Smurf and his friends were expecting us. The prior night’s group had stayed there overnight and told of the different Holy Week groups and to be on the lookout for us. Smurf was busy building wooden crosses from branches and pieces of wood that he’d collected. He was building in inventory of crosses to take to a flea market outside of town on the upcoming weekend. He had his tools, his roll of copper wiring and his paint area all under the tarp. As we called out his name when we came upon the tent we heard his reply back to come on in and make ourselves at home. We entered under the tarp and the stinging sense of fire smoke hit our eyes. I was almost immediately blinded by the smoke. Smurf said to come on in and sit down to get below the rising smoke until we got used to it. I quickly sat down on the sofa and almost as quickly as I had been blinded, my eyes cleared up and I was enveloped in a dry heat that felt so good it was hard to describe. The power of the fire barrel and the roaring fire in it, heated the area under the tarp to 80 degrees (my guess). Having just gotten dried off and then walked in the cool of the morning this was like walking into a dry sauna. Even as we tried to be friendly and conversational with Smurf and his friends, our group quickly unrolled their blankets on the gravel and curled up and went to sleep. Smurf could see the fatigue in everyone and he was most understanding – after all, he had work to do and no one was bothering anyone else so he just went about his business as we crashed. I felt some responsibility to stay awake since everyone else seemed to have literally passed out. (I’ve always been that way). So Smurf and chatted about everything from his work, to his life, his family and his future plans. If there was ever a picture of community and acceptance, our group experienced it during our time at Tent City with Papa Smurf. Now don’t get to thinking that this is some utopia. He told of his battle with the rat just the previous night. Seems there’s a very large rat that they have not been able to kill who just last night got into their food and ate most of their bread. By the time they were awaken by the sound, it was too late and the rat was again able to escape – by running across the bed of a couple of people who were still asleep! (I knew there was a reason why I didn’t go to sleep like everyone else..) Smurf continually asked us if we needed anything, that anything they had we were welcome to have. I was humbled and touched by their hospitality and friendliness. I’ve been to Tent City many times, but each time before it was to serve the people living there. This experience of being served was uncomfortable and unsettling for me. Just as I would much prefer to wash feet than have mine washed, I much prefer to serve than to be served. I’ve taken comfort in the “more blessed to give than to receive” saying of Jesus. What I think I’ve failed to realize is that it’s in receiving that the “more blessed to give” gains relativity. One of my commitments coming out of this experience is to take a little more time and be open to occasionally receiving – even from those whom I might feel are not in a position to give – so that as I, in turn, live a life to give, I can be in a better position to be even “more blessed”.
I woke up the group about 10:15. If we were to try and eat lunch then we needed to be heading out. None of us had eaten breakfast and our stomachs were starting to remind us we needed (or so we thought) to get something to eat. We said our thank you’s and good-bye and headed back towards the river bridge and back into East Nashville. It was Friday (actually is was Good Friday) and a special place off Shelby called Ken and Carol’s opened up for free lunch at 11:30.
4.9.09 Holy Week on the Street - Part 2
We left Holy Trinity and headed back downtown via the back of the Sommet Center. At the south end is the “bus-port” for MTA. There are probably 6 bus stop shelters that people use during the day to queue up for bus transfers. Little did I know that at night these covered bus benches become shelters for some of Nashville’s homeless. Our group was blessed to have a spirit in us that was anxious to reach out to people we met on the street. As we rounded the corner and saw the folks bedding down on and under the benches we naturally fanned out to the different areas to spend just a few minutes talking with our brothers in need. (I failed to tell you that when we began our afternoon the group concluding their 24 hours on the street met with us and gave us their blankets they had used for cover the prior evening. So most of us were carrying the only source of warmth we would have for the cold, wet night ahead.) As we sat with the people on the bus benches we saw that many of them did not have a blanket so we began to offer our blankets to them. I was touched that no one in our group ever expressed concern about what we’d do later that evening to stay warm and dry. It was obvious to us that these folks needed the blankets worse than we would. With the weather forecast for the night calling for heavy rain we learned from our new friends how certain shelters were preferable to others due to how the wind and rain would blow in and soak them while others were positioned to protect them from elements. These people are not stupid. They have instinct and survival skills most of us would take weeks and months to develop (if we ever did develop them).
We said our good-byes we headed toward Broadway and the tourist district. Walking among tourists with backpacks and blankets (we didn’t give all of them away), certainly made me feel like we were standing out. But once again, we were invisible. My eyes were drawn to the other homeless folks sitting on the sidewalk or playing the guitar and trying to collect a few dollars. We stopped and chatted with them. Tried to see where they were sleeping for the night and if they needed anything. A few needed blankets so we gave away more of what we had. One of our group had prior experience with helping homeless people and their pets. Until recently I never quite understood the attraction to pets. Intellectually I could grasp it, but emotionally I could never fathom that a person would rather stay on the street with their pet rather than give up the pet to move into housing. Most low income housing options do not allow for pets (for the apartment owner I can understand why). There is an exception if a doctor “prescribes” a pet for someone, but even then, it’s limited to just one. So there’s a whole ministry of loving people working in the homeless community who offer their services and their homes to give people on the streets the assurance that their pets will be taken care of as they try to decide to move into housing. As we walked down Broadway we can across a woman and 2 men sitting on the sidewalk and panhandling. She was sitting on a pet carrier with her small dog inside. The man in our group began asking her about food for the dog (something that never crossed my mind). His compassion for that which was most important to her opened her up and we spent the next few minutes listening to their story and making sure they had a place to sleep for the night. A little further down the street we stopped in front of a western boot store where they had emptied the days garbage in containers right on Broadway. There we found hundreds of pieces of cardboard which we gathered up to replace our donated blankets. Now we’re walking down Broadway with backpacks, 2 blankets and armloads of cardboard! If there was any doubt of who we were (in the minds of the “regular people”) we quickly answered those questions and became even more invisible as we crossed the bridge back into East Nashville and towards our targeted sleeping space for the night.
We crossed the Woodland Street bridge as we walked east. It was getting close to midnight and I felt like we’d walked 10 miles. One of the leaders had told me earlier that night that she had spied out a possible dry place for our group to sleep. Given the weather forecast for high wind and thunder storms, dry was important. Holy Name Catholic church turned out to be the place she had seen. Inside the front gate leading to the entrance to the building is a shrine to the Virgin Mary. This shrine is set back in a concrete half-shelled opening which protects the statue of Mary from the weather. This was to be our shelter for the night. The 8 of us crowded into the shelter, behind the statue, beside the statue and in front of it. Someone made the comment that we’d need to be careful not to lean too heavily on the statue and cause it to fall on one of us! However, no matter how we squeezed we just couldn’t all get under cover. One of our group said he would sleep out on the grass near the shrubs. Even with him out of the shelter, there was no way we could all lay down to sleep. So a few of us sat up, leaning against the back of the shelter with our legs crossed under us. I knew this wouldn’t work for long, but I was so tired that I even fell asleep sitting up. Every 30 minutes or so, someone would roll over or need to stretch and wake up half of the group. Surprisingly, we were a pretty accommodating bunch. My homeless friend that had been accompanying us for the night was pretty frustrated. It was just 2 days ago that Otter Creek had paid for ½ of a hotel room for him for a week. And now here he was trying to sleep sitting up when he had a bed waiting for him. There had been many nights when he slept on the streets because he had no options. Tonight he had an option, but here he was with a group of people who also had beds but had given them up to be on the street. The irony of that didn’t escape either of us. I knew he was getting frustrated, but he continued to be patient with us.
It was about 2:45AM when the first lightning and rain drops started to fall. Our companion who had been sleeping on the grass decided it was time to get under the shelter. In order to do this, a few of us who had figured out how to doze off had to now sit straight up and squeeze together even more closely. Some let the bottom half of their body lay out from under the shelter so they covered up with the cardboard we’d picked up earlier that night (we’d used most of it to cover the floor of the shelter in order to give us a little cushion and insulate us from the cold of the concrete slab). This worked OK for about the next 15 minutes until the storm rolled in. The rains came and the wind blew. There was no way to stay dry. A few of us had brought a rain coat. But it was quickly getting wet and cold and totally miserable. I couldn’t help but think of the other homeless people we’d seen earlier that night and wondered where they were and if they were dry. We continued to try and nap – a few even seemed to actually get some sleep. But by 5AM it was clear that the storm was going to be here for a while and we needed another alternative. We might be a willing group of people, but we certainly were not street-hardened. Several people were starting to shiver uncontrollably due to the cold, the wet and the wind. The other leader sat down beside me and we decided that probably needed to make a decision to head to a church down the street where her office was located. She had the key and we knew we could get more blankets, dry clothes and out of the weather. We discussed the dilemma we felt in using our privilege to get us out of the weather realizing that few of the other people on the street had this option. But in the long run, we decided it was the wise thing to do so we announced to the group our plans. And while this meant a mile walk to her office in the middle of the rain, no one objected given the prize that awaited us when we arrived.
So we left our soaked cardboard at the Shrine to the Virgin Mary and headed further east down Woodland. It was pouring rain and my homeless friend walked up to me and said he had had enough. “As soon as the buses start to run, I’m outta here”. I gotta get some sleep”. I told him I understood and had no problems with him leaving. We made it to the church offices where we dried off, warmed up and regrouped for sunrise and the start of the new day.
We said our good-byes we headed toward Broadway and the tourist district. Walking among tourists with backpacks and blankets (we didn’t give all of them away), certainly made me feel like we were standing out. But once again, we were invisible. My eyes were drawn to the other homeless folks sitting on the sidewalk or playing the guitar and trying to collect a few dollars. We stopped and chatted with them. Tried to see where they were sleeping for the night and if they needed anything. A few needed blankets so we gave away more of what we had. One of our group had prior experience with helping homeless people and their pets. Until recently I never quite understood the attraction to pets. Intellectually I could grasp it, but emotionally I could never fathom that a person would rather stay on the street with their pet rather than give up the pet to move into housing. Most low income housing options do not allow for pets (for the apartment owner I can understand why). There is an exception if a doctor “prescribes” a pet for someone, but even then, it’s limited to just one. So there’s a whole ministry of loving people working in the homeless community who offer their services and their homes to give people on the streets the assurance that their pets will be taken care of as they try to decide to move into housing. As we walked down Broadway we can across a woman and 2 men sitting on the sidewalk and panhandling. She was sitting on a pet carrier with her small dog inside. The man in our group began asking her about food for the dog (something that never crossed my mind). His compassion for that which was most important to her opened her up and we spent the next few minutes listening to their story and making sure they had a place to sleep for the night. A little further down the street we stopped in front of a western boot store where they had emptied the days garbage in containers right on Broadway. There we found hundreds of pieces of cardboard which we gathered up to replace our donated blankets. Now we’re walking down Broadway with backpacks, 2 blankets and armloads of cardboard! If there was any doubt of who we were (in the minds of the “regular people”) we quickly answered those questions and became even more invisible as we crossed the bridge back into East Nashville and towards our targeted sleeping space for the night.
We crossed the Woodland Street bridge as we walked east. It was getting close to midnight and I felt like we’d walked 10 miles. One of the leaders had told me earlier that night that she had spied out a possible dry place for our group to sleep. Given the weather forecast for high wind and thunder storms, dry was important. Holy Name Catholic church turned out to be the place she had seen. Inside the front gate leading to the entrance to the building is a shrine to the Virgin Mary. This shrine is set back in a concrete half-shelled opening which protects the statue of Mary from the weather. This was to be our shelter for the night. The 8 of us crowded into the shelter, behind the statue, beside the statue and in front of it. Someone made the comment that we’d need to be careful not to lean too heavily on the statue and cause it to fall on one of us! However, no matter how we squeezed we just couldn’t all get under cover. One of our group said he would sleep out on the grass near the shrubs. Even with him out of the shelter, there was no way we could all lay down to sleep. So a few of us sat up, leaning against the back of the shelter with our legs crossed under us. I knew this wouldn’t work for long, but I was so tired that I even fell asleep sitting up. Every 30 minutes or so, someone would roll over or need to stretch and wake up half of the group. Surprisingly, we were a pretty accommodating bunch. My homeless friend that had been accompanying us for the night was pretty frustrated. It was just 2 days ago that Otter Creek had paid for ½ of a hotel room for him for a week. And now here he was trying to sleep sitting up when he had a bed waiting for him. There had been many nights when he slept on the streets because he had no options. Tonight he had an option, but here he was with a group of people who also had beds but had given them up to be on the street. The irony of that didn’t escape either of us. I knew he was getting frustrated, but he continued to be patient with us.
It was about 2:45AM when the first lightning and rain drops started to fall. Our companion who had been sleeping on the grass decided it was time to get under the shelter. In order to do this, a few of us who had figured out how to doze off had to now sit straight up and squeeze together even more closely. Some let the bottom half of their body lay out from under the shelter so they covered up with the cardboard we’d picked up earlier that night (we’d used most of it to cover the floor of the shelter in order to give us a little cushion and insulate us from the cold of the concrete slab). This worked OK for about the next 15 minutes until the storm rolled in. The rains came and the wind blew. There was no way to stay dry. A few of us had brought a rain coat. But it was quickly getting wet and cold and totally miserable. I couldn’t help but think of the other homeless people we’d seen earlier that night and wondered where they were and if they were dry. We continued to try and nap – a few even seemed to actually get some sleep. But by 5AM it was clear that the storm was going to be here for a while and we needed another alternative. We might be a willing group of people, but we certainly were not street-hardened. Several people were starting to shiver uncontrollably due to the cold, the wet and the wind. The other leader sat down beside me and we decided that probably needed to make a decision to head to a church down the street where her office was located. She had the key and we knew we could get more blankets, dry clothes and out of the weather. We discussed the dilemma we felt in using our privilege to get us out of the weather realizing that few of the other people on the street had this option. But in the long run, we decided it was the wise thing to do so we announced to the group our plans. And while this meant a mile walk to her office in the middle of the rain, no one objected given the prize that awaited us when we arrived.
So we left our soaked cardboard at the Shrine to the Virgin Mary and headed further east down Woodland. It was pouring rain and my homeless friend walked up to me and said he had had enough. “As soon as the buses start to run, I’m outta here”. I gotta get some sleep”. I told him I understood and had no problems with him leaving. We made it to the church offices where we dried off, warmed up and regrouped for sunrise and the start of the new day.
4.9.09 Holy Week on the Street - Part 1
(This will be the first of a few installments trying to recap my thoughts and experiences of spending 24 hours on the street.)
While the irony of voluntarily deciding to be homeless for one night does not escape me, a number of us made that decision this week. In recognition of Jesus’ last week - from the time he entered the urban center of Jerusalem to the time he carried His cross back out of the city – we committed to live 24 hours on the streets of Nashville with no money, no cell phone, and no snacks or food other than what we could beg for or panhandle. I parked my Explorer at Room in the Inn, pulled my hoodie over my head and walked out of the parking lot and into the alley. I intentionally took on the walk and look of the men and women that over the last few years I’ve come to know and love and serve. And it is a different walk and look that most of us recognize but don’t really want to admit we use to differentiate. I’d walk this trek from Room in the Inn to downtown Nashville on several occasions, but always as a convenience - not as a necessity and definitely not because I had no other options. This walk was different. Within 5 minutes of being on the street I sensed a feeling that I did not expect. As I passed men and women going to and from offices and tourists looking at the buildings and sights of downtown Nashville, I thought I was invisible. No one (and I mean absolutely no one) even looked at me. I intentionally did not offer the first “hello” to people I met (have you ever had a homeless person greet you coming down the street and say “hello”?). And while I watched them and their eyes as I approached, I did not make direct eye contact with them. Those 2 actions and the way I was dressed resulted in 100% of the people I encountered not even acknowledging my presence. I couldn’t help but know that if I had on a clean pair of slacks, a dress shirt and a sport coat the response and reaction would have been much different. I’ve always wondered why it took a kiss from Judas to point out Jesus to the soldiers who came to arrest him. I now think one of the reasons was that, to many of the officials and elite, he was just another homeless and invisible person walking the streets.
For the next 24 hours observations, thoughts and perceptions continued to fill my mind and trouble my heart. My comrades for the day were 3 Vanderbilt students, a Belmont student, 2 outreach workers from a social work agency and a “real” homeless friend that I had invited to accompany us in order to share with us as we walked the streets. We introduced ourselves and read scriptures and thoughts concerning Jesus’ weeping over Jerusalem and then prayed as we starting walking. To be homeless means you walk a lot!! One of the outreach workers had heard that a church in East Nashville had a Thursday evening meal which was open to anyone so we headed off to see what we might be able to find for dinner. What would normally be a 10 minute drive was a 90 minute walk. Once again, even a group of 8 people wearing non-fashionable grungy clothes and backpacks, were mostly invisible. The exceptions were the few drivers that rolled down their windows or were sitting in gas stations who chose to yell obscenities at us (because we were homeless) as we walked by. Literally no one said hello or asked us what 8 people were doing walking together or, much less, offered any assistance. 8 invisible people!
We arrived at St. Ann’s Episcopal church as they were preparing their “agape” dinner and making final arrangements for their Maundy Thursday service. As soon as we walked in we knew we were in holy place. Welcomed by the priest and the members they sought to understand what we were doing and why. As we explained our plans and our heart reasons they embraced us (literally and figuratively). We were treated as guests of honor. As we shared a simple meal I really thought this could be the kind of church family I would want to be a part of if I lived anywhere nearby. As we moved from the meal to the service we were ushered into the sanctuary and introduced as special guests to all the members. We sat and prayed with them and stood to sing with them. The time came and we lined up to wash each other’s feet in honor of Jesus’ act of service to his disciples. And then we shared in the Eucharist meal with them. As the service drew to an end the priest invited our group to stand in front of the congregation where they lifted their hands in prayer to ask God to bless us on our journey. As we adjourned one of the members handed me his card on which he had written his cell #. “I’ll leave the phone on tonight”, he said. “You feel free to call me if your group needs anything – I just live a few minutes from here.” We headed out into the night with our stomachs full and our spirits lifted by a group of people who showed us hospitality that was a true honor to God.
We decided to head back into Nashville so we crossed the pedestrian bridge where our homeless friend showed us where he had been sleeping for the past year (when he was not fortunate enough to get a bed from Room in the Inn). As we stood and looked at the small alcove where he huddled to stay out of the wind and cold, he pointed out that someone had recently defecated in the corner. Were he to stay there tonight he’d be reduced to cleaning up someone else’s human waster before he could lay down to sleep. He pointed out to us that there are no public toilets in downtown Nashville and that when he had to relieve himself he tried to do so on a piece of cardboard in order to be able to throw it in the trash. As we came off the bridge we found ourselves joining the crowd that was coming out of the Schermerhorn Symphony Hall. We intentionally walked through the crowd and down the same sidewalks as those leaving. Once again, totally invisible. I saw an elderly lady in a wheelchair struggling to get her chair loading into the rear of her van with the lift. I approached her to ask if she needed help. Startled she said no and glanced down the street toward the security guard who quickly headed her way. I said “God bless” and moved on. No reason to get in a confrontation this early in the evening.
When we were at St. Ann’s they told us that later that evening their sister congregation, Holy Trinity, would be holding a Watch service until midnight. Holy Trinity is the small stone church located adjacent to the Nashville Rescue Mission. We decided to head there and spend some quiet contemplative time. I’ve never experienced anything quite like this. People gathered together in quiet much like they would do should a family member have passed away. The reality of a real death having taken place enveloped the little sanctuary. Our group prayed and read scripture as we spent the next hour in silence.
While the irony of voluntarily deciding to be homeless for one night does not escape me, a number of us made that decision this week. In recognition of Jesus’ last week - from the time he entered the urban center of Jerusalem to the time he carried His cross back out of the city – we committed to live 24 hours on the streets of Nashville with no money, no cell phone, and no snacks or food other than what we could beg for or panhandle. I parked my Explorer at Room in the Inn, pulled my hoodie over my head and walked out of the parking lot and into the alley. I intentionally took on the walk and look of the men and women that over the last few years I’ve come to know and love and serve. And it is a different walk and look that most of us recognize but don’t really want to admit we use to differentiate. I’d walk this trek from Room in the Inn to downtown Nashville on several occasions, but always as a convenience - not as a necessity and definitely not because I had no other options. This walk was different. Within 5 minutes of being on the street I sensed a feeling that I did not expect. As I passed men and women going to and from offices and tourists looking at the buildings and sights of downtown Nashville, I thought I was invisible. No one (and I mean absolutely no one) even looked at me. I intentionally did not offer the first “hello” to people I met (have you ever had a homeless person greet you coming down the street and say “hello”?). And while I watched them and their eyes as I approached, I did not make direct eye contact with them. Those 2 actions and the way I was dressed resulted in 100% of the people I encountered not even acknowledging my presence. I couldn’t help but know that if I had on a clean pair of slacks, a dress shirt and a sport coat the response and reaction would have been much different. I’ve always wondered why it took a kiss from Judas to point out Jesus to the soldiers who came to arrest him. I now think one of the reasons was that, to many of the officials and elite, he was just another homeless and invisible person walking the streets.
For the next 24 hours observations, thoughts and perceptions continued to fill my mind and trouble my heart. My comrades for the day were 3 Vanderbilt students, a Belmont student, 2 outreach workers from a social work agency and a “real” homeless friend that I had invited to accompany us in order to share with us as we walked the streets. We introduced ourselves and read scriptures and thoughts concerning Jesus’ weeping over Jerusalem and then prayed as we starting walking. To be homeless means you walk a lot!! One of the outreach workers had heard that a church in East Nashville had a Thursday evening meal which was open to anyone so we headed off to see what we might be able to find for dinner. What would normally be a 10 minute drive was a 90 minute walk. Once again, even a group of 8 people wearing non-fashionable grungy clothes and backpacks, were mostly invisible. The exceptions were the few drivers that rolled down their windows or were sitting in gas stations who chose to yell obscenities at us (because we were homeless) as we walked by. Literally no one said hello or asked us what 8 people were doing walking together or, much less, offered any assistance. 8 invisible people!
We arrived at St. Ann’s Episcopal church as they were preparing their “agape” dinner and making final arrangements for their Maundy Thursday service. As soon as we walked in we knew we were in holy place. Welcomed by the priest and the members they sought to understand what we were doing and why. As we explained our plans and our heart reasons they embraced us (literally and figuratively). We were treated as guests of honor. As we shared a simple meal I really thought this could be the kind of church family I would want to be a part of if I lived anywhere nearby. As we moved from the meal to the service we were ushered into the sanctuary and introduced as special guests to all the members. We sat and prayed with them and stood to sing with them. The time came and we lined up to wash each other’s feet in honor of Jesus’ act of service to his disciples. And then we shared in the Eucharist meal with them. As the service drew to an end the priest invited our group to stand in front of the congregation where they lifted their hands in prayer to ask God to bless us on our journey. As we adjourned one of the members handed me his card on which he had written his cell #. “I’ll leave the phone on tonight”, he said. “You feel free to call me if your group needs anything – I just live a few minutes from here.” We headed out into the night with our stomachs full and our spirits lifted by a group of people who showed us hospitality that was a true honor to God.
We decided to head back into Nashville so we crossed the pedestrian bridge where our homeless friend showed us where he had been sleeping for the past year (when he was not fortunate enough to get a bed from Room in the Inn). As we stood and looked at the small alcove where he huddled to stay out of the wind and cold, he pointed out that someone had recently defecated in the corner. Were he to stay there tonight he’d be reduced to cleaning up someone else’s human waster before he could lay down to sleep. He pointed out to us that there are no public toilets in downtown Nashville and that when he had to relieve himself he tried to do so on a piece of cardboard in order to be able to throw it in the trash. As we came off the bridge we found ourselves joining the crowd that was coming out of the Schermerhorn Symphony Hall. We intentionally walked through the crowd and down the same sidewalks as those leaving. Once again, totally invisible. I saw an elderly lady in a wheelchair struggling to get her chair loading into the rear of her van with the lift. I approached her to ask if she needed help. Startled she said no and glanced down the street toward the security guard who quickly headed her way. I said “God bless” and moved on. No reason to get in a confrontation this early in the evening.
When we were at St. Ann’s they told us that later that evening their sister congregation, Holy Trinity, would be holding a Watch service until midnight. Holy Trinity is the small stone church located adjacent to the Nashville Rescue Mission. We decided to head there and spend some quiet contemplative time. I’ve never experienced anything quite like this. People gathered together in quiet much like they would do should a family member have passed away. The reality of a real death having taken place enveloped the little sanctuary. Our group prayed and read scripture as we spent the next hour in silence.
4.6.09
I got a call today from “Lisa” (not her real name). I hadn’t heard from her in several months. As I answered the phone she simply said, “Hey it’s me - I’m ready for that cup of coffee.” The last time I had seen Lisa I had told her to never forget that I was just a call away and would always be ready to come pick her up and, at least, buy her a cup of coffee. That last time we met, I had read her a story I had written. It was a story about her and my observations about how it had affected me. It seemed the honesty of the story may have caused her to step away for a while. But we met late this afternoon and I listened again to the story unfold – same story, next verse. I thought you might want to read the story I wrote about Lisa:
I met Lisa when she was in recovery – or at least one of the times she had run out of options and was searching for help.
Lisa slowly told me her story – months of listening, non-judging, accepting, loving. She seemed to be hesitant – in her mind there was no way I could really help her and accept her – just too much baggage.
Slowly small cries for compassion were responded to with true acts of mercy – sometimes she’d take the help and then run away. Other times it seemed to build the relationship and push us further along the journey together. But like so many others, events continued to come together in her life that caused her to move on and move away. The problem was that she didn’t continue to grow – back to old habits, repeat the cycle.
Maybe because of how she was loved, maybe desperation, she’d call again – seemingly back at square one and we’d start over. New messes on her journey, new needs for mercy and grace – chances to recover and move ahead.
I could see so much potential in Lisa. If she’d only see it in herself – the options I saw seemed numerous, but she said she felt trapped – all she could see were limits. She was trying to solve her issues on her own even though other support and resources were available – there for the taking – just ask and they’d be made available. Her shame, her pride, her fear – or combinations of all and more kept her chained to the past and the present with little hope for the future. I was so frustrated – seeing so much potential in her, knowing there were so many resources available that she couldn’t imagine – just dying for her to let go and ask – show a willingness to give up trying to do it herself and let others help – just show some trust. Stop hedging your bets that this outpouring of compassion is real and complete and enough to sustain. Totally commit to change. She’d never do it – at least not now.
She’ll tell you how she feels so much better, so much more hopeful for the future when she’s with me – but then we lose touch and by the time we reconnect she’s a mess again. I know we’ll never stop being there for her, always ready to forgive, to receiver her back and take the mess and start the journey again. But something in me longs for Lisa to see the treadmill she’s on. I feel myself hurting for her to just step off and let people that love her walk with her in a more life changing way than ever before. I have no idea how the story will end with Lisa. We’re still in the cycle.
But a few weeks ago, after getting another call from Lisa and spending a few hours with her, trying to gather up the messes and figure where to begin again, it hit me…
I’m Lisa…and while my messes aren’t the same, and I’d like to believe not as “messy” as her’s, she and I are no different. God continues to be there for me, reaching out, showing mercy every time I reach for him. But he so wants me to get off the treadmill. Quit hedging my bets. Commit to him s the full power of his resources and come into my life and lead me on a journey that he controls and not me. When will I ever learn? Lord I believe, help my unbelief…
I met Lisa when she was in recovery – or at least one of the times she had run out of options and was searching for help.
Lisa slowly told me her story – months of listening, non-judging, accepting, loving. She seemed to be hesitant – in her mind there was no way I could really help her and accept her – just too much baggage.
Slowly small cries for compassion were responded to with true acts of mercy – sometimes she’d take the help and then run away. Other times it seemed to build the relationship and push us further along the journey together. But like so many others, events continued to come together in her life that caused her to move on and move away. The problem was that she didn’t continue to grow – back to old habits, repeat the cycle.
Maybe because of how she was loved, maybe desperation, she’d call again – seemingly back at square one and we’d start over. New messes on her journey, new needs for mercy and grace – chances to recover and move ahead.
I could see so much potential in Lisa. If she’d only see it in herself – the options I saw seemed numerous, but she said she felt trapped – all she could see were limits. She was trying to solve her issues on her own even though other support and resources were available – there for the taking – just ask and they’d be made available. Her shame, her pride, her fear – or combinations of all and more kept her chained to the past and the present with little hope for the future. I was so frustrated – seeing so much potential in her, knowing there were so many resources available that she couldn’t imagine – just dying for her to let go and ask – show a willingness to give up trying to do it herself and let others help – just show some trust. Stop hedging your bets that this outpouring of compassion is real and complete and enough to sustain. Totally commit to change. She’d never do it – at least not now.
She’ll tell you how she feels so much better, so much more hopeful for the future when she’s with me – but then we lose touch and by the time we reconnect she’s a mess again. I know we’ll never stop being there for her, always ready to forgive, to receiver her back and take the mess and start the journey again. But something in me longs for Lisa to see the treadmill she’s on. I feel myself hurting for her to just step off and let people that love her walk with her in a more life changing way than ever before. I have no idea how the story will end with Lisa. We’re still in the cycle.
But a few weeks ago, after getting another call from Lisa and spending a few hours with her, trying to gather up the messes and figure where to begin again, it hit me…
I’m Lisa…and while my messes aren’t the same, and I’d like to believe not as “messy” as her’s, she and I are no different. God continues to be there for me, reaching out, showing mercy every time I reach for him. But he so wants me to get off the treadmill. Quit hedging my bets. Commit to him s the full power of his resources and come into my life and lead me on a journey that he controls and not me. When will I ever learn? Lord I believe, help my unbelief…
4.4.09
Compassion comes in all forms. My wife and I have been blessed to be a part of a small group at Otter Creek for the last 2 years. We’re considerably older than the rest of the group, but they’ve been gracious in allowing us to be a part of that spiritual community. This is one of the most socially minded groups I’ve ever been associated with. Listening to them and learning from them has broadened my understanding of Christian opportunity and responsibility to engage with society in a way that honors God as well as what God has created. Each family has a real heart to make a difference in people’s lives and in our city. Recently we agreed to consider a monthly service project as a way to use our hands and feet in addition to our minds – we believe that my serving others we are following Christ’s example.
Today we met at 9:30 at the Wayne Reed Christian Childcare Center (WRCCC) just off Lindsey and 2nd Ave. in Nashville. Our project was to help them clean up and straighten up. We showed up with brooms and power washers, with paper towels and cleaner. Most of our group brought their young children. Kids too young to contribute to getting any “real” work accomplished but not too young to be influenced by where their parents had taken them and by what they saw their parents doing. The WRCCC has a great playground so while some of got the power washers ready to go, some of the moms let the kids play on the playground. They also took paper towels and cleaner and started to wipe down the toys and the outside windows. Mesh cots were collected from all the rooms (it’s what the children nap on during the day) and brought to the parking lot for soap, water and a power shower. Push brooms and a power blower made quick work of getting the trash and leaves off the parking lot. Another group worked on tearing down one of the older handmade wooden forts located on the playground – it had become rickety and a little to splintery to be safely used by the children. Grassy areas in the parking lot were trimmed with a weed eater and the clippings swept up.
All the time the work was going on, the kids were running and playing and laughing on the playground. Moms were catching up on what had been going on for the past week. And the guys were showing off power tools while trying to figure out who might be the winners of tonight’s final four games. No egos, no competition to see who could get the most work done. Just a group of people who are trying to be a community and who are looking for ways to serve and give back and be the kind of parents to the kids and friends to each other that honors God and sets an example for the world. We were done by 12 (thanks guys for letting me head out a little early) and headed back to our homes for the rest of our Saturday plans. As I drove off, I felt blessed to having been involved today and for being a part of this group.
Today we met at 9:30 at the Wayne Reed Christian Childcare Center (WRCCC) just off Lindsey and 2nd Ave. in Nashville. Our project was to help them clean up and straighten up. We showed up with brooms and power washers, with paper towels and cleaner. Most of our group brought their young children. Kids too young to contribute to getting any “real” work accomplished but not too young to be influenced by where their parents had taken them and by what they saw their parents doing. The WRCCC has a great playground so while some of got the power washers ready to go, some of the moms let the kids play on the playground. They also took paper towels and cleaner and started to wipe down the toys and the outside windows. Mesh cots were collected from all the rooms (it’s what the children nap on during the day) and brought to the parking lot for soap, water and a power shower. Push brooms and a power blower made quick work of getting the trash and leaves off the parking lot. Another group worked on tearing down one of the older handmade wooden forts located on the playground – it had become rickety and a little to splintery to be safely used by the children. Grassy areas in the parking lot were trimmed with a weed eater and the clippings swept up.
All the time the work was going on, the kids were running and playing and laughing on the playground. Moms were catching up on what had been going on for the past week. And the guys were showing off power tools while trying to figure out who might be the winners of tonight’s final four games. No egos, no competition to see who could get the most work done. Just a group of people who are trying to be a community and who are looking for ways to serve and give back and be the kind of parents to the kids and friends to each other that honors God and sets an example for the world. We were done by 12 (thanks guys for letting me head out a little early) and headed back to our homes for the rest of our Saturday plans. As I drove off, I felt blessed to having been involved today and for being a part of this group.
4.2.09
Even though my heart loves to be engaged on the street with others that are hurting and looking for answers I remind myself that a critical part of being a minister is “equipping others for works of service” (Eph. 4:12). If you look back on some prior postings, you’ll see my thoughts about the tension between engaging in acts of mercy and working towards a more just system. In one sense that tension helps me be at peace with the times that I am called (literally) by other Otter Creek members to walk with them as they are on the street and engaged with other people.
I got a call this morning from on Otter Creek member asking for suggestions, resource ideas and directions to assist a co-worker who knew of an elderly woman who had been living with her even-older mom. The mom had recently passed away and now the elderly woman was alone and confused. She is almost illiterate and is very untrusting of the people around her. There’s not much concern about her being able to provide for herself financially, it’s that she can’t live alone and has no one to turn to. The call from the Otter Creek member was to ask for my thoughts on how she and her co-worker could help. As I tried to give a few names and numbers of people and groups she might contact, I couldn’t help but sense the irony of the situation – here was a member of the Otter Creek community reaching out to another member of the Otter Creek community to take advantage of the different gifts each of us has been given (Rom 12:6) to try and offer compassion and help to a person who had no community. After all, could you see a situation like this happening to someone who lived in community with a group of people who loved them? So much of what I encounter each day comes down to people in need of more than just help with the rent, food to put on the table or diapers for the baby - nearly all of these people are in need of a community. They have hit the wall trying to do it by themselves and they don’t have anyone or any community to reach out to. That has to be a part of the message of hope that we offer.
Later that evening I met another Otter Creek member. He’s a young man who works downtown and had met an older gentleman who was living in his truck in a downtown parking lot. He met him by simply keeping his eyes open and being willing to engage people that he meets in more than just a passing glance (if even that). He saw this man sitting on a bench by the parking lot and, over the course of several weeks, began to get to know him and his story. It was then that he called me and asked me if I’d be willing to meet with them and see if I had any suggestions or recommendations of how to help this man and his particular situation. It was the OCC member who had the credibility with this man that opened the door for him to be willing to hear what I had to say. I won’t go into all the details of this man’s life that had brought him to living in his truck, but one of the issues he was having to come to terms with was that he was alone. He didn’t have a community or a family to turn to – lots of reasons why, but nevertheless, he was reaching out to a person he had just recently met because he had no other choice. God can take those situations and work in them in so many ways. I pray that we’ll be able to offer this man some hope and some real direction. But even more than that, I pray that we’ll be able to offer him a vision what life in a community can be like. I pray that as the OCC member continues to be a part of this man’s life after I’ve offered our resources, that he’ll have the chance to talk with him about the power of being with people who collectively offer up their lives so that as a whole, we look more like Jesus than we ever could as a collection of individuals. That’s the vision of Otter Creek – “That the world will look at Otter Creek and see Jesus”. May God bless us and continue to open doors that allows us the privilege of living out that vision.
I got a call this morning from on Otter Creek member asking for suggestions, resource ideas and directions to assist a co-worker who knew of an elderly woman who had been living with her even-older mom. The mom had recently passed away and now the elderly woman was alone and confused. She is almost illiterate and is very untrusting of the people around her. There’s not much concern about her being able to provide for herself financially, it’s that she can’t live alone and has no one to turn to. The call from the Otter Creek member was to ask for my thoughts on how she and her co-worker could help. As I tried to give a few names and numbers of people and groups she might contact, I couldn’t help but sense the irony of the situation – here was a member of the Otter Creek community reaching out to another member of the Otter Creek community to take advantage of the different gifts each of us has been given (Rom 12:6) to try and offer compassion and help to a person who had no community. After all, could you see a situation like this happening to someone who lived in community with a group of people who loved them? So much of what I encounter each day comes down to people in need of more than just help with the rent, food to put on the table or diapers for the baby - nearly all of these people are in need of a community. They have hit the wall trying to do it by themselves and they don’t have anyone or any community to reach out to. That has to be a part of the message of hope that we offer.
Later that evening I met another Otter Creek member. He’s a young man who works downtown and had met an older gentleman who was living in his truck in a downtown parking lot. He met him by simply keeping his eyes open and being willing to engage people that he meets in more than just a passing glance (if even that). He saw this man sitting on a bench by the parking lot and, over the course of several weeks, began to get to know him and his story. It was then that he called me and asked me if I’d be willing to meet with them and see if I had any suggestions or recommendations of how to help this man and his particular situation. It was the OCC member who had the credibility with this man that opened the door for him to be willing to hear what I had to say. I won’t go into all the details of this man’s life that had brought him to living in his truck, but one of the issues he was having to come to terms with was that he was alone. He didn’t have a community or a family to turn to – lots of reasons why, but nevertheless, he was reaching out to a person he had just recently met because he had no other choice. God can take those situations and work in them in so many ways. I pray that we’ll be able to offer this man some hope and some real direction. But even more than that, I pray that we’ll be able to offer him a vision what life in a community can be like. I pray that as the OCC member continues to be a part of this man’s life after I’ve offered our resources, that he’ll have the chance to talk with him about the power of being with people who collectively offer up their lives so that as a whole, we look more like Jesus than we ever could as a collection of individuals. That’s the vision of Otter Creek – “That the world will look at Otter Creek and see Jesus”. May God bless us and continue to open doors that allows us the privilege of living out that vision.
3.28.09
I really believe that through networking with other churches and groups and through partnerships with organizations and individuals Otter Creek is better able to use the gifts, talents and experiences with which we’ve been blessed. When we try to work and serve in isolation we find ourselves limited and, more importantly, we are more easily seduced into pride and self-centeredness because we delude ourselves into thinking and looking at what WE accomplished. As much as we get to see and feel the hand of God in the acts of compassion we do, I believe it may be even more a miracle from God how we are led to those different people, groups, organizations and churches with which we are able to partner. Those come on many different forms. And it’s impossible to formulate or preconceive what they might be.
One of those partnerships is with our local Juvenile Court system – particularly the public defender’s office and the social worker and case managers that work out of that office. Occasionally they’ll call us when they encounter a family (typically through a case with one of the older children) that they believe could benefit from some of the services Otter Creek has to offer – most often our furniture ministry. A few weeks ago I got an email from one of the case managers asking if we might be willing to partner with them to help a single mom with 5 children, one of whom was in the court system. As they got to know the family they saw they had a need for furniture and thought us stepping in might be a key to helping the mom with some of the other family issues. I called the mom and we talked for while. I learned she lived in one of the rougher housing project in Nashville and was in need of “anything you have”. As it happened (Can you say “the hand of God”?), two Otter Creek singles had decided to get married several months ago and in preparation for the blending of two households they called to let me know they had several pieces of furniture they wanted to donate. Most of the items were things that this family needed.
So today, another member from Otter Creek – a man who has significant corporate responsibilities in a very successful international business, but who is looking for ways to connect his theology with day-to-day living – and I went and picked up the couple’s donated furniture and headed straight into the inner city. We walked into one of the cleanest and best smelling (as in Clorox clean) apartments I’ve ever been in. The living room was completely empty. Each bedroom had a pad of quilts on the floor. They did have a kitchen table and a few chairs. We provided them a couch, a coffee table, and end table, a lamp, a dresser and a couple of boxes of dishes and other kitchen supplies. We got a chance to talk with them mom to learn about the kids. We got a count that they need at least 5 twin beds (the size of the rooms makes anything else almost impractical. As we chatted she asked me where our church was located – that she wanted to come and visit. I told her we were quite a way out of town and while we would love to have her visit and appreciated her offer (it was both a sincere question and her way of saying thanks), I suggested we might be able to also help her find a church family closer to her apartment. Once again, partnerships come into play. We can call several churches nearby who are more than willing to call her, stop by, get to know her and start walking with her and her family.
As we headed back to the truck to head home, my friend who helped with the pick up and delivery was on his Blackberry typing away. He said he was sending an email to his wife asking her if they didn’t have a couple of twin beds they could give up to help this family. Anybody who doesn’t believe that getting your hands and feet engaged in service to others doesn’t have a greater effect on the ones serving than on the ones served needs to talk to this man. Or even better, send me an email and sign up for a “ride along’”. In the words of Jesus when he was approached by one of his soon-to-be disciples and was questioned about his identity, “Come and see”. May God be honored as we seek to be His hands and feet…
One of those partnerships is with our local Juvenile Court system – particularly the public defender’s office and the social worker and case managers that work out of that office. Occasionally they’ll call us when they encounter a family (typically through a case with one of the older children) that they believe could benefit from some of the services Otter Creek has to offer – most often our furniture ministry. A few weeks ago I got an email from one of the case managers asking if we might be willing to partner with them to help a single mom with 5 children, one of whom was in the court system. As they got to know the family they saw they had a need for furniture and thought us stepping in might be a key to helping the mom with some of the other family issues. I called the mom and we talked for while. I learned she lived in one of the rougher housing project in Nashville and was in need of “anything you have”. As it happened (Can you say “the hand of God”?), two Otter Creek singles had decided to get married several months ago and in preparation for the blending of two households they called to let me know they had several pieces of furniture they wanted to donate. Most of the items were things that this family needed.
So today, another member from Otter Creek – a man who has significant corporate responsibilities in a very successful international business, but who is looking for ways to connect his theology with day-to-day living – and I went and picked up the couple’s donated furniture and headed straight into the inner city. We walked into one of the cleanest and best smelling (as in Clorox clean) apartments I’ve ever been in. The living room was completely empty. Each bedroom had a pad of quilts on the floor. They did have a kitchen table and a few chairs. We provided them a couch, a coffee table, and end table, a lamp, a dresser and a couple of boxes of dishes and other kitchen supplies. We got a chance to talk with them mom to learn about the kids. We got a count that they need at least 5 twin beds (the size of the rooms makes anything else almost impractical. As we chatted she asked me where our church was located – that she wanted to come and visit. I told her we were quite a way out of town and while we would love to have her visit and appreciated her offer (it was both a sincere question and her way of saying thanks), I suggested we might be able to also help her find a church family closer to her apartment. Once again, partnerships come into play. We can call several churches nearby who are more than willing to call her, stop by, get to know her and start walking with her and her family.
As we headed back to the truck to head home, my friend who helped with the pick up and delivery was on his Blackberry typing away. He said he was sending an email to his wife asking her if they didn’t have a couple of twin beds they could give up to help this family. Anybody who doesn’t believe that getting your hands and feet engaged in service to others doesn’t have a greater effect on the ones serving than on the ones served needs to talk to this man. Or even better, send me an email and sign up for a “ride along’”. In the words of Jesus when he was approached by one of his soon-to-be disciples and was questioned about his identity, “Come and see”. May God be honored as we seek to be His hands and feet…
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)