The Porch

June 8, 2008, exactly one year ago (thanks to the leap year), we piled into our car and waved goodbye to the hardest place I’ve ever had to leave. That Friday afternoon came way too quickly for me. The year of planning for the move had not prepared me for the blow I took as I watched my friends and house disappear in the side view mirror. I spent the next several months mourning my losses but all the while God was revealing to us what was so obviously being prepared for us before our arrival to the city.

141 NYC was only a few months old and Brian and I were already feeling a tug on our hearts to begin the church. We kept dismissing the idea because we didn’t feel ready. We were struggling to find people to give socks to, let alone invite to church. Our opposition came to a halt when we literally bumped into Chris and Shannon from Portland. As soon as we told them about our opposition and struggles with meeting people they took us to a part of Tompkins park that we never new existed. We were introduced to many people as the Pastors who are starting up a church in the park, and so it began.

I felt unprepared and had no idea what a church for our friends were to look like. Grueling over the logistics for the next week a friend of mine called me out of the blue with a word from God. While praying for me she heard the word “porch”. She had no idea what it meant, only knowing me for a short while she decided to call me anyway. As soon as she said the word it all made sense to me. Back in Portland two summers ago we were blessed by a woman named Shannon and her family. They opened their porch to the community every Sunday afternoon, which brought those who live in houses and those who don’t, together. With no inhibitions we played music, sang, shared stories, and ate the food that Trader Joes donated to the church. It was clear, the soul of Shannon’s porch, (and Ken’s balcony) is what we have to capture.

On June 8, 2007 I left all of this and more with the hope and faith that God would replace my losses and restore my heart. While Portland is irreplaceable, exactly one year later I felt it beneath me. I found encouragement as it stood firm as my pillar of strength. On our way to our first church gathering Brian said to me, “Didn’t we leave Portland the same time last year?” I couldn’t remember the date but as I looked out the window of our train and saw the city before me, I smiled at the thought. Remembering the side view mirror and of crying all the way to Salem I thought, “how cool would that be if today were the same day?” (I later went home and in my notes found that that it was in fact June 8th.) My nervousness grew as we pulled into our 8th Street stop. I took Luke’s hand, a deep breath, and stepped into what would be one of the most joyful days of my life.

We walked towards Tompkins park and my mind kept going to a plan B. “What if no one shows? We’ll just rush the food home and eat it for the next week.” With it being 96 degrees out and knowing that the crew went to Coney Island the day before, I had my doubts. But as soon as I caught a glimpse of the benches I saw Chris and Shannon and about 25 of their friends. They had woken up on the beach that morning and braved the traffic and still made it to the park before us.

The set up team consisted of Brian and Chris walking over to the pizzeria while friends of Chris’s would randomly drop off drinks and food. When they got back Chris gave the welcome by saying, “Come and get it!” Brian and I provided the hospitality by serving the food and shortly after a little old Italian lady came over and performed a drama skit. “Why do you live like this?” she asked. “Your bodies are ruined by tattoos, your mothers are crying because of you!” She proceeded to point her finger at an amazing person who two days ago was resuscitated from an overdose and say, “I don’t like your life!” At this point the sermon was given and a few words were shared between the Pharisee and myself. I asked her if she believed in God, she said yes. I asked her if she knew about Jesus, she said yes. I continued to explain to her that the Jesus we believe in would be sitting with us if he were here today, not pointing his finger. She grew angrier by the minute. Chris asked her, “what happens to those who cast the first stone?” She became outraged and decided to sit on the benches across from us and scowl for the next hour.

A great discussion followed where we talked about why people hate the homeless. Shannon and Meg then lead us into worship as they sang and played guitar. Luke continued on with the water gun wars and the rest of us played with Shannon’s rats and rolled the tobacco that Chris brought, throwing them at people’s heads. Throughout the day there were about 50 people who came through. Some sat and talked with us about God, others about music, or life. Some sat and said nothing at all. Our time in the park was magical. A breeze would cool us when the heat became unbearable and the cops didn’t hassle us once. I felt the Holy spirit leading the day with the Soul of the Porch Jam and the Grace of God. Even the angry words of a pharisee lead to a wonderful conversation. It was an amazing and beautiful beginning to a church that will teach us more about life and God.

(A special thanks to Ken Loyd, Home PDX, Chris, and Shannon for making this day happen, and to Vivian for reminding me that God is in control, and to everyone else that has been a part of our journey!)

-Kelly