We have some pretty big news to announce here at The Porch/ 141-NYC. Many of you know this already, but if you don't I'm sure it will come as a bit of a surprise. Our announcement is that we are going to be leaving New York this summer, and we will be moving back to San Diego. There are quite a few reasons for this. Some of them are rather personal, and I'd rather not discuss them in a public forum such as this. But the main reason is pretty simple: family.
Our little family is growing. Kelly and I are expecting our next child in December (yay!), and with that fact comes some big decisions. We have come to the conclusion that it is in our family's best interest if we return to our "roots," so to speak. We need to take the ministry of parenthood with the utmost seriousness, for it is our first and most important ministry. In San Diego we will have the close support and companionship of many friends and family members. Not that we don't have support here in NYC -- but 3,000 miles away is just too far at this point in our lives. We owe it to our kids, plain and simple.
Of course there are other reasons, too. But the primary point I want to make, to all our friends and supporters out there, is that this is not a retreat or a move of desparation. Far from it. We do not consider this venture to be a failure or a bad move. As our dear friend, mentor and fellow pastor Ken Loyd told us when we broke the news - "You guys fought and won." I believe that those words are straight from God himself. Our task in this world is not to be successful by the world's standards. Our task is to be faithful, and if nothing else I can say that we have been faithful in this calling. The Porch has been blessed for its season, and now it is time to move on to another.
Will we continue in our ministry? Of course. It is the air we breathe; we could not be ourselves without it. But I know that there are people in every city that are ignored and shamed. We don't have to stay in NYC to find them. And in San Diego, we will have the logistical support to carry on our ministry without sacrificing our children. Honestly, I can't wait to see what God has planned for us, in the city that we grew up in and know so well. 5 1/2 years ago, we left that city as young and naive dreamers seeking God's heart. Portland and New York have been training grounds for us. I think that we have fought the fight well thus far, and now return to San Diego as different people, capable of far more than we could have ever imagined previously. And to those of you who have supported us financially, know that your contributions will be put to use directly in San Diego. 141-SD will be up and running as soon as we can make it happen.
This is a stressful time for us, so please keep us in your prayers. I am leaving a very stable and well-paying job at Nyack College, and I currently have no job lined up in California. I'll be looking for work primarily in the higher education realm, but I would be open to just about anything at this point, so if you're reading this and have any leads, please let me know. I want to thank everyone who has been following this blog for your support and prayers, and I do hope that you will stay in touch with us as we step off into the next phase of this grand adventure.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
HomePDX and Porchurch press
Here's an article by one of our dear Portland peeps, Pam Hogeweide, about HomePDX. It's a great read, as her articles always are. Of course, it doesn't hurt that The Porch gets a little space in the article too (hey shameless self-promotion can be fun, don't judge me!)
http://www.wineskins.org/filter.asp?SID=2&fi_key=215&co_key=1787
http://www.wineskins.org/filter.asp?SID=2&fi_key=215&co_key=1787
Blessed are the Feet
An article on the spirituality of feet and walking:
http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2009/aprilweb-only/113-51.0.html
Walking, and the feet that accomplish walking, hold a pretty central place in our ministry. We live in a city where walking is a way of life. While we may have plenty of trains and other such vehicles to get us from place to place, we still end up walking a great deal. There are so many places that a train will not take you. Our beloved East Village is one such place -- few neighborhoods in Manhattan are more lacking in basic subway service. Yet this void turns out to be a blessing many times. It forces one to become intimately acquainted with the uniqueness of each block, and to truly become a part of the landscape instead of merely passing through.
Of course, many of our friends are travelers by trade, and so the act of walking becomes even more central to us. On the road and on the streets, feet become the most precious of body parts. You can damage other parts of the body and still get by, but if your feet go, you're done. I learned this myself very quickly in the military, and this fact applies even more so to our friends. Hence the importance of socks and our constant requests for the same.
I have gotten many puzzled looks when I respond to the question, "What do you guys want/need the most?" with the simple reply of: "Socks!" But those who join us understand almost immediately. Socks speak volumes, because socks are often needed more than even food. To have fresh socks shows that you actually understand the reality of the lives of many people. It shows that you understand the sacredness of feet.
So I guess it's no surprise that walking, and feet, play a pretty special role in the Bible as well. After all, wasn't one of Jesus' most signficant acts the washing of his disciples' feet? I'm sure that spoke to them in way much deeper than words, a true communication of love and grace. Hopefully our simple offerings of clean socks can approximate that spirit, in some way.
And of course, if you feel so inclined to send us some fresh socks, please feel free....
http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2009/aprilweb-only/113-51.0.html
Walking, and the feet that accomplish walking, hold a pretty central place in our ministry. We live in a city where walking is a way of life. While we may have plenty of trains and other such vehicles to get us from place to place, we still end up walking a great deal. There are so many places that a train will not take you. Our beloved East Village is one such place -- few neighborhoods in Manhattan are more lacking in basic subway service. Yet this void turns out to be a blessing many times. It forces one to become intimately acquainted with the uniqueness of each block, and to truly become a part of the landscape instead of merely passing through.
Of course, many of our friends are travelers by trade, and so the act of walking becomes even more central to us. On the road and on the streets, feet become the most precious of body parts. You can damage other parts of the body and still get by, but if your feet go, you're done. I learned this myself very quickly in the military, and this fact applies even more so to our friends. Hence the importance of socks and our constant requests for the same.
I have gotten many puzzled looks when I respond to the question, "What do you guys want/need the most?" with the simple reply of: "Socks!" But those who join us understand almost immediately. Socks speak volumes, because socks are often needed more than even food. To have fresh socks shows that you actually understand the reality of the lives of many people. It shows that you understand the sacredness of feet.
So I guess it's no surprise that walking, and feet, play a pretty special role in the Bible as well. After all, wasn't one of Jesus' most signficant acts the washing of his disciples' feet? I'm sure that spoke to them in way much deeper than words, a true communication of love and grace. Hopefully our simple offerings of clean socks can approximate that spirit, in some way.
And of course, if you feel so inclined to send us some fresh socks, please feel free....
Monday, February 16, 2009
Quality
http://www.nypost.com/seven/02152009/news/regionalnews/cop_plan__go_on_offense_155296.htm
I don't expect much from the New York Post, so picking on anything that comes out of the rag is probably a bit unfair. However, the article linked above does report on something that is concerning, to say the least. A report that police are going to go on the "offensive" should raise some eyebrows, and lead to some questions. What are they attacking? What is the threat that we, the innocent, law-abiding public are facing?
Oh, yes. Of course. "Quality-of-life." In other words, the systematic removal of people whose appearance offends our sensibilities of right and wrong. It means the eradication, in the face of economic uncertainty, of any signs that our consumer utopia might be starting to crumble.
Now, I'm not saying that "petty crime" is necessarily ok. What bothers me, however, is that homelessness is basically being placed on the same level as prostitution. Notice the neat little trick in the article? The media does it all the time - talks about crime and homelessness in the same breath, implying that there is an obvious correlation between the two. Do this enough times, and the law-abiding public soon begins to equate homelessness with criminality - see how that works?
And then, you get the police involved, and you get the paranoia of "if there's a homeless person on your block, that's a threat."
At the very least, I am somewhat surprised that the comments section of the article shows more support for the homeless than I would have expected from readers of the Post. Perhaps people are starting to realize that we're all on the same sinking ship, and all responsible for each other. However, that doesn't change the scary tone of the police representatives. We could be in for an interesting summer.
I don't expect much from the New York Post, so picking on anything that comes out of the rag is probably a bit unfair. However, the article linked above does report on something that is concerning, to say the least. A report that police are going to go on the "offensive" should raise some eyebrows, and lead to some questions. What are they attacking? What is the threat that we, the innocent, law-abiding public are facing?
Oh, yes. Of course. "Quality-of-life." In other words, the systematic removal of people whose appearance offends our sensibilities of right and wrong. It means the eradication, in the face of economic uncertainty, of any signs that our consumer utopia might be starting to crumble.
Now, I'm not saying that "petty crime" is necessarily ok. What bothers me, however, is that homelessness is basically being placed on the same level as prostitution. Notice the neat little trick in the article? The media does it all the time - talks about crime and homelessness in the same breath, implying that there is an obvious correlation between the two. Do this enough times, and the law-abiding public soon begins to equate homelessness with criminality - see how that works?
And then, you get the police involved, and you get the paranoia of "if there's a homeless person on your block, that's a threat."
At the very least, I am somewhat surprised that the comments section of the article shows more support for the homeless than I would have expected from readers of the Post. Perhaps people are starting to realize that we're all on the same sinking ship, and all responsible for each other. However, that doesn't change the scary tone of the police representatives. We could be in for an interesting summer.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Redemption and value
No man can by any means redeem his brother, or give to God a ransom for him -- for the redemption of the soul is costly, and he should cease trying forever -- that he should live on eternally, that he should not undergo decay
Do not be afraid when a man becomes rich, when the glory of his house is increased: for when he dies he will carry nothing away; his glory will not descend after him.
Psalm 49
We are surrounded on all sides by people who think that their wealth will insulate them from trouble. Their concept of value is based on the most commonly accepted unconscious norm of our society: that value, in the sense of human beings, can be measured materially. One person is more valuable than another, based on some sort of material criteria or another. This fallacy ignores the essential truth of the nature of persons: that we are created in the image of God, and therefore valuable for this fact and this fact alone.
The criteria that people use to devalue others may seem obvious. It is not always so. It is easy enough to point at shallow, callous examples such as the conceited billionaire who values people based on the size of their bank accounts, and treats those of lesser economic standing as subhuman. This caricature may ring true in some societies, but a far more common and insidious form of criteria exists today. This is the notion that a person's value is based on their economic utility; in other words, their use to the economic system that we hold so dear. A person who can and does contribute their "fair share" to the system is considered valuable, while one who does not is considered less valuable. The examples of caricatures of these types are legion: the welfare queen, the incorrigable bum, the disability loafer.
Social service agencies and ministries that exist to help these people are accused of enabling self-destructive (and non-productive) behavior. A line is drawn between the deserving and the non-deserving. Only those who are crippled by extraordinary circumstances far beyond their control are given a pass. All others are simply faking it. Conspiracy theories abound regarding these others, who certainly must be lying awake at night dreaming of new ways to bilk the system.
What is the view of humanity suggested in this attitude? It is a view that places the redemption of the soul squarely within the hands of the individual. Value is made, not endowed -- it is earned through effort that accords with the norms of a liberal capitalist society. A person is given absolute free will by their creator, and with that freedom comes responsibility. Failure to live up to the responsibility places one outside of the realm of grace. It is the unforgivable sin, to be non-productive in an ever-producing world.
The Bible speaks differently of redemption. Redemption is the conferring of value, particularly to someone or something that did not have any intrinsic value before. The Hebrew image is one of ransom, of a payment given for the life of a slave or prisoner. It suggests release from a status of worthlessness to a status of value. Of course, in the Bible redemption is always an act of God alone. Man cannot "by any means" provide for his own redemption or that of his brother. The image of the goel, or kinsman redeemer, illustrates God's redemptive relationship with his people. Christ comes to his own, and sacrifices of himself to bestow value on his kin who have been sold as slaves. This redemption is "costly" -- more than any person can pay, with any amount of wealth. Those who feel that accumulation of material assests will save them or even give them value are sorely mistaken. All accumulation, all the hard work we put into glorifying our own houses will not last.
Human value is neither intrinsic nor earned. We are not valuable simply because of something of value in our own natures. If this were the case, then God would be obligated to love us, due to our surpassing worth and beauty. Instead, we are valuable because of God's conscious choice and action, and it is an entirely unconstrained action on his part -- not that we loved him, but that he first loved us. The fact that he loved us while we were yet sinners only makes this love more amazing, and makes our value more pure in comparison with non-value. It also makes our redemption very costly.
To put a spin on Luther's old line: "We are not loved because we are valuable; we are valuable because we are loved."
Do not be afraid when a man becomes rich, when the glory of his house is increased: for when he dies he will carry nothing away; his glory will not descend after him.
Psalm 49
We are surrounded on all sides by people who think that their wealth will insulate them from trouble. Their concept of value is based on the most commonly accepted unconscious norm of our society: that value, in the sense of human beings, can be measured materially. One person is more valuable than another, based on some sort of material criteria or another. This fallacy ignores the essential truth of the nature of persons: that we are created in the image of God, and therefore valuable for this fact and this fact alone.
The criteria that people use to devalue others may seem obvious. It is not always so. It is easy enough to point at shallow, callous examples such as the conceited billionaire who values people based on the size of their bank accounts, and treats those of lesser economic standing as subhuman. This caricature may ring true in some societies, but a far more common and insidious form of criteria exists today. This is the notion that a person's value is based on their economic utility; in other words, their use to the economic system that we hold so dear. A person who can and does contribute their "fair share" to the system is considered valuable, while one who does not is considered less valuable. The examples of caricatures of these types are legion: the welfare queen, the incorrigable bum, the disability loafer.
Social service agencies and ministries that exist to help these people are accused of enabling self-destructive (and non-productive) behavior. A line is drawn between the deserving and the non-deserving. Only those who are crippled by extraordinary circumstances far beyond their control are given a pass. All others are simply faking it. Conspiracy theories abound regarding these others, who certainly must be lying awake at night dreaming of new ways to bilk the system.
What is the view of humanity suggested in this attitude? It is a view that places the redemption of the soul squarely within the hands of the individual. Value is made, not endowed -- it is earned through effort that accords with the norms of a liberal capitalist society. A person is given absolute free will by their creator, and with that freedom comes responsibility. Failure to live up to the responsibility places one outside of the realm of grace. It is the unforgivable sin, to be non-productive in an ever-producing world.
The Bible speaks differently of redemption. Redemption is the conferring of value, particularly to someone or something that did not have any intrinsic value before. The Hebrew image is one of ransom, of a payment given for the life of a slave or prisoner. It suggests release from a status of worthlessness to a status of value. Of course, in the Bible redemption is always an act of God alone. Man cannot "by any means" provide for his own redemption or that of his brother. The image of the goel, or kinsman redeemer, illustrates God's redemptive relationship with his people. Christ comes to his own, and sacrifices of himself to bestow value on his kin who have been sold as slaves. This redemption is "costly" -- more than any person can pay, with any amount of wealth. Those who feel that accumulation of material assests will save them or even give them value are sorely mistaken. All accumulation, all the hard work we put into glorifying our own houses will not last.
Human value is neither intrinsic nor earned. We are not valuable simply because of something of value in our own natures. If this were the case, then God would be obligated to love us, due to our surpassing worth and beauty. Instead, we are valuable because of God's conscious choice and action, and it is an entirely unconstrained action on his part -- not that we loved him, but that he first loved us. The fact that he loved us while we were yet sinners only makes this love more amazing, and makes our value more pure in comparison with non-value. It also makes our redemption very costly.
To put a spin on Luther's old line: "We are not loved because we are valuable; we are valuable because we are loved."
Monday, December 8, 2008
Princess
This is another re-post from HomePDX. It's a story that is too good not to share.
Princess
I was wandering, completely lost in reverie about my latest epiphany. Here it is: Did you know that the courthouse I was circumnavigating was the "courthouse" mentioned in the name of Portland's Pioneer Courthouse Square? Mind-boggling. It's only taken me ten years of living here to figure that out. Quick mind. Quick wit. Here's how it went: year one, learning the name of Pioneer Courthouse Square; year one, discovering that the building across the street is a courthouse; year ten, putting it all together! How long would it have taken lesser minds to make that arcane connection? I don't know but thank God I'm here to point these things out.
I rounded the corner of Morrison Street and started up 6th Ave. to the south and half noticed a young woman standing near the far corner. As I approached she eyed me and stuck out her hand, "Hi." ... Heroin. Heavy eyelids, pinned pupils, droopy facial muscles, cold, clammy hands. Her soul was invisible, shrouded in a dense drug fog. She was kind of pretty, in a round-faced sort of way. Late teens, early twenties maybe. Black shiny hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, khakis, tan, not too dirty, a black, long-sleeved, turtleneck sweater (the long sleeves hid the track marks well). Her fingernails had been painted black within the last week or so. It was chipped, but not too bad. Her hands were mostly clean. She had brown-black eyes that were alive and inquisitive and at the same time old and sad.
I responded to the handshake while sizing her up, thinking, "What's the angle here?" The greeting had the feel of one of those kiosks at the mall where the girl says, "Can I ask you a question?" She doesn't really want to hear from you; she just wants to sell you some overpriced, overly perfumed hand cream. "Leave me alone," I think as I politely say, "No Thanks." I was on my guard. Wary.
"What's up?"
"Not much."
"Nice evening, huh?"
"Yeah."
"All I've got is a buck." I gave it to her and with that I walked away.
"Thanks, Ken! God bless you," she shouted sweetly as I rounded the corner on Yamhill.
"Ken." She knew my name. And in a crashing, blinding instant I understood. I had just examined, categorized, sliced, diced, chewed and spit out somebody's Princess. She was or at least should have been somebody's Princess; laughing and twirling and dancing in an over sized Sleeping Beauty dress to the joyous tears and applause of her admirers. Years later, Prince Charming should have scooped her up onto his white horse and galloped to their castle in the clouds where they would live happily ever after. But no, today she got an armful of heroin, and me. And I blew her off. I panicked and ran home, not stopping to talk to anyone along the way.
Back in in my apartment, electrified with my own shame, I tried to look back on what had just happened. Thinking error? Maybe. But more likely a heart error. It's easier for me than I would like to admit to become hardened, know too much of the ins and outs of the street scene here in Portland and look for the sales pitch. I get tired of the pain all around me and inside of me. Today there were no hidden motives on her part. Just a little girl, a Princess, who wanted a few kind words from a man who wouldn't hurt or use her, a man she knew. She wanted me to see her, actually see her, but I was blinded by cynicism and self- protection.
"God, make me gullible again, innocent again. Wash away the layers of grime that have built up on my heart just by being alive and brushing up against so many hurting people for so long. Reopen my eyes to the beauty of the Princesses and Princes of the street"
I've seen "Shauna" several times since. She throws her arms around me now and just holds on…or she's too loaded to recognize me. Either way, she's forgiven and forgotten my coldness on that warm August evening. That's what a Princess does.
Love,
Ken
Princess
I was wandering, completely lost in reverie about my latest epiphany. Here it is: Did you know that the courthouse I was circumnavigating was the "courthouse" mentioned in the name of Portland's Pioneer Courthouse Square? Mind-boggling. It's only taken me ten years of living here to figure that out. Quick mind. Quick wit. Here's how it went: year one, learning the name of Pioneer Courthouse Square; year one, discovering that the building across the street is a courthouse; year ten, putting it all together! How long would it have taken lesser minds to make that arcane connection? I don't know but thank God I'm here to point these things out.
I rounded the corner of Morrison Street and started up 6th Ave. to the south and half noticed a young woman standing near the far corner. As I approached she eyed me and stuck out her hand, "Hi." ... Heroin. Heavy eyelids, pinned pupils, droopy facial muscles, cold, clammy hands. Her soul was invisible, shrouded in a dense drug fog. She was kind of pretty, in a round-faced sort of way. Late teens, early twenties maybe. Black shiny hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, khakis, tan, not too dirty, a black, long-sleeved, turtleneck sweater (the long sleeves hid the track marks well). Her fingernails had been painted black within the last week or so. It was chipped, but not too bad. Her hands were mostly clean. She had brown-black eyes that were alive and inquisitive and at the same time old and sad.
I responded to the handshake while sizing her up, thinking, "What's the angle here?" The greeting had the feel of one of those kiosks at the mall where the girl says, "Can I ask you a question?" She doesn't really want to hear from you; she just wants to sell you some overpriced, overly perfumed hand cream. "Leave me alone," I think as I politely say, "No Thanks." I was on my guard. Wary.
"What's up?"
"Not much."
"Nice evening, huh?"
"Yeah."
"All I've got is a buck." I gave it to her and with that I walked away.
"Thanks, Ken! God bless you," she shouted sweetly as I rounded the corner on Yamhill.
"Ken." She knew my name. And in a crashing, blinding instant I understood. I had just examined, categorized, sliced, diced, chewed and spit out somebody's Princess. She was or at least should have been somebody's Princess; laughing and twirling and dancing in an over sized Sleeping Beauty dress to the joyous tears and applause of her admirers. Years later, Prince Charming should have scooped her up onto his white horse and galloped to their castle in the clouds where they would live happily ever after. But no, today she got an armful of heroin, and me. And I blew her off. I panicked and ran home, not stopping to talk to anyone along the way.
Back in in my apartment, electrified with my own shame, I tried to look back on what had just happened. Thinking error? Maybe. But more likely a heart error. It's easier for me than I would like to admit to become hardened, know too much of the ins and outs of the street scene here in Portland and look for the sales pitch. I get tired of the pain all around me and inside of me. Today there were no hidden motives on her part. Just a little girl, a Princess, who wanted a few kind words from a man who wouldn't hurt or use her, a man she knew. She wanted me to see her, actually see her, but I was blinded by cynicism and self- protection.
"God, make me gullible again, innocent again. Wash away the layers of grime that have built up on my heart just by being alive and brushing up against so many hurting people for so long. Reopen my eyes to the beauty of the Princesses and Princes of the street"
I've seen "Shauna" several times since. She throws her arms around me now and just holds on…or she's too loaded to recognize me. Either way, she's forgiven and forgotten my coldness on that warm August evening. That's what a Princess does.
Love,
Ken
Monday, November 24, 2008
A Speedboat Among Oil Tankers
The following excerpt is from an email I received from our mother/sister/brother (we have an odd sort of family, don't judge us) church, HomePDX. Some details have been deliberately obscured to protect the innocent and gulity.
THE KID
I just got back from helping buy a bus ticket for a young friend who lives outdoors in downtown Portland. When originally asked, I couldn't put a face to the name (Jeremiah, I think). We didn't have any extra money at the time but I said we'd help. I was to meet him at the Greyhound station along with a representative of a HUGE nonprofit.
When I arrived I recognized him immediately. He leaped to his feet and threw his arms around me, words and gratitude spilling out in a torrent, half to me, half in explanation to the now puzzled representative of the non-profit, "You are the best people in downtown. You have the best food and kindest people. You always make us feel welcome. You respect us. I love the Wiffleball! I'll never forget you. One day I'll come here and give back alongside you guys." (Expletives deleted)
What's so amazing about us? Nothing, really. We give our best to our friends, with a smile and kind conversation. (It turns to trash talk, however, during the Wiffleball season. The US Gutter Punk Wiffleball League requires that. Page 88 in the Official USGPWL Manual, I think). WE don't see what we do as anything great. Mostly nothing special. That's why we're legends in downtown Portland.
I found it curious that while the multimillion-dollar operation paid $60, HOME came up with $180. The representative said that's all the non-profit could "allot for this purpose." He's a fantastic guy, and amazingly caring. He would have paid it all out of his own pocket if he had the money.Big organizations have "allotments" and "purposes". I guess they have to. We at HOME have friends, most of whom live outdoors year around. Jeremiah was in a tough spot (a job and pregnant fiancé in Wisconsin with no way to get there). We had two hundred bucks in the bank and a friend with a need.
We're a speedboat among oil tankers.
It's so fun.
This note reminds me of why I love Ken Loyd (the author of the note). His knack for amazing metaphors never ceases to amaze me. "We're a speedboat among oil tankers." As someone who has spent some time aboard large ships and traveled in and out of many ports around the world, the image is particularly rich and visual. I think it perfectly explains that awkward but necessary relationship all of us have to social service organizations.
I'm not here to disparage social services or the people who work for them. The safety net that they provide keeps many people alive, and for that I am thankful. But I also can see that the social service system itself is dangerously self-perpetuating. If social services do their job too well, then they wouldn't have anyone left to help. And any organization that is designed to act against its own self-interest will likely run into problems in the long run. It is here that the "gap" is created that the church must step in to fill. We can go beyond the big organizations, because we can focus on relationship in the way they can't. Our size is our advantage -- it's like guerilla warfare. We can get in and out quickly, and stay mobile.
Of course, I am glad that there are trustworthy non-profs that I can refer my friends to when they need help. I am not a substance abuse counselor, a job counselor, or a doctor. But I can be a friend. In my experience, it seems that we and the social services tend to envy each other: we want some of their resources, and they want some of our freedom. In the end, I think that both are necessary. But I'm happy that I get to be one of the ones on the speedboat.
THE KID
I just got back from helping buy a bus ticket for a young friend who lives outdoors in downtown Portland. When originally asked, I couldn't put a face to the name (Jeremiah, I think). We didn't have any extra money at the time but I said we'd help. I was to meet him at the Greyhound station along with a representative of a HUGE nonprofit.
When I arrived I recognized him immediately. He leaped to his feet and threw his arms around me, words and gratitude spilling out in a torrent, half to me, half in explanation to the now puzzled representative of the non-profit, "You are the best people in downtown. You have the best food and kindest people. You always make us feel welcome. You respect us. I love the Wiffleball! I'll never forget you. One day I'll come here and give back alongside you guys." (Expletives deleted)
What's so amazing about us? Nothing, really. We give our best to our friends, with a smile and kind conversation. (It turns to trash talk, however, during the Wiffleball season. The US Gutter Punk Wiffleball League requires that. Page 88 in the Official USGPWL Manual, I think). WE don't see what we do as anything great. Mostly nothing special. That's why we're legends in downtown Portland.
I found it curious that while the multimillion-dollar operation paid $60, HOME came up with $180. The representative said that's all the non-profit could "allot for this purpose." He's a fantastic guy, and amazingly caring. He would have paid it all out of his own pocket if he had the money.Big organizations have "allotments" and "purposes". I guess they have to. We at HOME have friends, most of whom live outdoors year around. Jeremiah was in a tough spot (a job and pregnant fiancé in Wisconsin with no way to get there). We had two hundred bucks in the bank and a friend with a need.
We're a speedboat among oil tankers.
It's so fun.
This note reminds me of why I love Ken Loyd (the author of the note). His knack for amazing metaphors never ceases to amaze me. "We're a speedboat among oil tankers." As someone who has spent some time aboard large ships and traveled in and out of many ports around the world, the image is particularly rich and visual. I think it perfectly explains that awkward but necessary relationship all of us have to social service organizations.
I'm not here to disparage social services or the people who work for them. The safety net that they provide keeps many people alive, and for that I am thankful. But I also can see that the social service system itself is dangerously self-perpetuating. If social services do their job too well, then they wouldn't have anyone left to help. And any organization that is designed to act against its own self-interest will likely run into problems in the long run. It is here that the "gap" is created that the church must step in to fill. We can go beyond the big organizations, because we can focus on relationship in the way they can't. Our size is our advantage -- it's like guerilla warfare. We can get in and out quickly, and stay mobile.
Of course, I am glad that there are trustworthy non-profs that I can refer my friends to when they need help. I am not a substance abuse counselor, a job counselor, or a doctor. But I can be a friend. In my experience, it seems that we and the social services tend to envy each other: we want some of their resources, and they want some of our freedom. In the end, I think that both are necessary. But I'm happy that I get to be one of the ones on the speedboat.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Journey to the End of the East River
The Porch is returning to the East River, starting this Sunday, November 9th at 1 pm.
We're not really sure why we ever left. I think there was some identity confusion - are we a church? are we an outreach? But I think we've got that sorted out, at this point.
Yes, we are a church. Sometimes we have a lot of people, sometimes just a few. But I think that's the case with most churches. And yes, we do outreach. Sometimes the two are connected (for example, you can get some warm food and socks on Sunday at the East River and don't need to stick around after that), sometimes they are separate (we are going to start a mobile outreach night during the week, probably starting next week).
Our needs remain the same -- socks, food, money, warm stuff -- not necessarily in that order. But we don't need a building. The East River Park will suit us just fine, thanks. We will keep warm by jumping up and down, dancing, shouting, banging on things, and eating soup. You are welcome to join us, no matter what you have done, are doing or will do. We love you! Same time and place as always - 1 pm, East River Park by the 6th Street bridge.
We're not really sure why we ever left. I think there was some identity confusion - are we a church? are we an outreach? But I think we've got that sorted out, at this point.
Yes, we are a church. Sometimes we have a lot of people, sometimes just a few. But I think that's the case with most churches. And yes, we do outreach. Sometimes the two are connected (for example, you can get some warm food and socks on Sunday at the East River and don't need to stick around after that), sometimes they are separate (we are going to start a mobile outreach night during the week, probably starting next week).
Our needs remain the same -- socks, food, money, warm stuff -- not necessarily in that order. But we don't need a building. The East River Park will suit us just fine, thanks. We will keep warm by jumping up and down, dancing, shouting, banging on things, and eating soup. You are welcome to join us, no matter what you have done, are doing or will do. We love you! Same time and place as always - 1 pm, East River Park by the 6th Street bridge.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Hoodie Season
The chill in the air has suddenly arrived in New York City. Summer has said goodbye with a quickness - we're looking at lows in the 40's by this weekend. Which pretty well explains why most of our friends have skipped town.
So does that mean we close up shop for the winter? No way. You see, not everyone leaves for the winter. Some don't have a choice. There are many reasons why; but yes, people do sleep outside in New York in the winter. And we'll be here, outside with them, doing whatever we can to help them out, because we're too hard-headed and stupid to think of anything else!!
For The Porch, this means that hoodie season has officially arrived. While socks are still precious and the item we will continue to carry at all times, hoodies come to the forefront this time of year. Now here in NYC, hoodies alone are not sufficient to get through the dead of winter, but right now they do the job. Luckily, they are pretty cheap to come by at the discount stores and we should be able to stock up without breaking the bank. Ahh, the joys of not having to pay rent, because we don't have a building!!!
Distribution on the street can get tricky, because once word gets out that you are handing out free hoodies, it can turn into a mob scene and you end up picked clean before you even know what happened. So we'll be working on a strategy to make sure that the hoodies go to those who truly need them.
This time of year is, for me, somewhat refreshing. It usually involves a lot of hard work without a lot of visible rewards, but it ends up paying dividends in ways that I can't explain. As my wonderful friend Ken Loyd says, the little birds see what you are doing when you "pay your dues" all winter long, and they tell everyone about it when spring comes. So here's to the little birds. Oh, and of course, if you feel inclined to support what we're doing, now would be a great time, since we have a lot of hoodies to buy. Enjoy your Fall, wherever you are (well, not wherever. If you're in the Southern Hemisphere, enjoy your spring).
Friday, August 29, 2008
Long overdue
Wow, it's been a ridiculously long time since I last updated this blog. The Porch has gone through a lot in the past month or so, and much of it is probably not worth cataloguing but I'm sure that whoever chooses to lay their eyes on this lovely page might have some interest in the recent developments. Well, to summarize: many things have changed, many have stayed the same.
The summer has come and is nearly gone, the heavy air of humidity giving way to the sublime chill of fall. I can't complain - fall is probably the best season in NYC, weather-wise. But it also means the departure of many of our traveling friends, who start to head out of town around this time of year in search of warmer times for the inevitable winter. After the budget-straining crowds of the first few months, our Sunday numbers have dwindled down and Sundays now seem a bit more random, if not much less hectic! We still meet at East River, but are finding ourselves usually wandering over to Tompkins. Our last big meal at East River was a few weeks ago, and it was probably the last one of the summer. But we still can find several of our friends in and around Tompkins, and there are plenty of people out there who need socks, of course.
The change is not something that we see negatively at all. The nature of what we do and the people that we love mean that we will be constantly changing. Yes, we realize the importance of consistency. But consistency does not mean sticking with one particular method even when the method isn't accomplishing anything. If nothing else, we would be terrible stewards of the resources that we have been blessed with if we continued to make huge meals and just ended up throwing them away. When the winter comes, things will change again. The trick is to keep the processes fluid while remaining true to the vision and heart of the ministry.
Of course, I should add that we have added several wonderful people to our little growing community over the last few months. The slower late summer Sundays have given us, as a community, a chance to get to know each other better and for this I am thankful. Kelly and I could not have gotten to this point alone.
This summer has been the most amazing time -- I can't speak with enough superlatives to describe it without sounding cheezy. We have made so many new friends and spent hours upon hours in the company of beautiful people that we adore. They have welcomed us in to their circles and loved us back. We've had barbeques, wiffle ball games, intense conversations, prayers, and explorations beneath the Coney Island boardwalk. I know that this season is coming to an end for the moment, but a new season is beginning and I cannot wait to see what will happen.
The summer has come and is nearly gone, the heavy air of humidity giving way to the sublime chill of fall. I can't complain - fall is probably the best season in NYC, weather-wise. But it also means the departure of many of our traveling friends, who start to head out of town around this time of year in search of warmer times for the inevitable winter. After the budget-straining crowds of the first few months, our Sunday numbers have dwindled down and Sundays now seem a bit more random, if not much less hectic! We still meet at East River, but are finding ourselves usually wandering over to Tompkins. Our last big meal at East River was a few weeks ago, and it was probably the last one of the summer. But we still can find several of our friends in and around Tompkins, and there are plenty of people out there who need socks, of course.
The change is not something that we see negatively at all. The nature of what we do and the people that we love mean that we will be constantly changing. Yes, we realize the importance of consistency. But consistency does not mean sticking with one particular method even when the method isn't accomplishing anything. If nothing else, we would be terrible stewards of the resources that we have been blessed with if we continued to make huge meals and just ended up throwing them away. When the winter comes, things will change again. The trick is to keep the processes fluid while remaining true to the vision and heart of the ministry.
Of course, I should add that we have added several wonderful people to our little growing community over the last few months. The slower late summer Sundays have given us, as a community, a chance to get to know each other better and for this I am thankful. Kelly and I could not have gotten to this point alone.
This summer has been the most amazing time -- I can't speak with enough superlatives to describe it without sounding cheezy. We have made so many new friends and spent hours upon hours in the company of beautiful people that we adore. They have welcomed us in to their circles and loved us back. We've had barbeques, wiffle ball games, intense conversations, prayers, and explorations beneath the Coney Island boardwalk. I know that this season is coming to an end for the moment, but a new season is beginning and I cannot wait to see what will happen.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
More Porch pics
For the visually oriented among you.
So a little background on this one -- this is our wonderful improvised "tent of meeting" that lasted half of one day. We were very excited about our new rain shelter in light of the destruction of the canopy (see last post). Then the Parks Department Police made us take it down. What a shame.
So a little background on this one -- this is our wonderful improvised "tent of meeting" that lasted half of one day. We were very excited about our new rain shelter in light of the destruction of the canopy (see last post). Then the Parks Department Police made us take it down. What a shame.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Stormy Sunday
Communities are defined by their stories. So when a community is being formed, you always look for those moments that will become milestones discussed with a warm smile many years down the road. Sunday, June 29th was a story day for The Porch, and even though really huge things didn't necessarily happen we came away with stories that we will all share.
Speaking of milestones and stories, God's timing never ceases to amuse me. You see, June 29th, 2007 was the day that we arrived in New York City, clueless and terrified. Well, maybe not terrified, but definitely apprehensive about starting something new in a place so unfamiliar. So exactly one year later, The Porch met for the fourth time, we had the largest crowd so far (maybe 75 people by conservative estimate?), and the Lord did not spare us from the rain this time.
But it was this very rain that brought us together. You see, we just bought a cheapo fold-out canopy from Rite Aid (never again!) and finally decided to set it up on Sunday as a little shelter of sorts. It served mainly as the "art table" on Sunday, where we were planning on having this great creative circle and music time. Of course, God's plans for the day were a little different than ours. After everyone feasted on burritos and dressed up in various dresses (yes you heard me correctly), a sudden torrential downpour forced all of us under the canopy. There were probably 20 of us, plus several dogs, backpacks, guitars, art supplies, you name it all crammed together in a 10-square-foot space, huddling for whatever refuge we could find. Then, as the canopy leaked all over us and the rain blew in relentlessly, Mark and Puerto led us in a community sing-a-long. Guess we had the "circle time" after all!
Eventually the rain stopped and we spent the rest of the steamy day hanging out in the mud hole that was our gathering spot. It was still a glorious time - the high drag fashion show continued unabated, music rang out from time to time, and we made many new friends. We were reminded that we can make our big plans, but God still calls the shots (Proverbs 16:1). We ended up with a story about a day so colorful, wet and beautiful that it will forever be etched into our memories. And that is far more than we could have ever planned for our one year in NYC anniversary!
ANNOUNCEMENTS:
- Thank you so much to all who have donated recently, you are helping more than you can imagine to keep a beautiful, wonderful and strange thing rolling on. If you feel inclined to donate, you can easily do so via the magic button on the right side of the screen, and please remember that "Anything Helps!" We are also looking for donors for in-kind type of stuff, as we have a growing wish-list as things start to expand.
- Wish list right now:
- Socks (NEW, mens, crew, preferably black but white is ok too)
- Gold Bond foot powder
- Dental floss and sewing needles
- First-aid type stuff, i.e. bandaids, alcohol swabs, antifungal and antibacterial cream, etc
- Large, sturdy waterproof backpacks, like hiker type. We always seem to run into people whose packs have been lost or stolen
- FOOD! If you are in the NYC area, and you and/or your church or other organization are interested in serving meals, we are looking right now for groups who can commit to 1 Sunday a month.
- Legal assistance. Anyone with familiarity on New York state Religious Corporations law?
- A rent-free building on the LES (ha ha ha right? But hey, it's a wish list! Actually, we're perfectly ok with not having a building, and we don't even really want one right now. Just trying to think ahead, cuz it be cold in the winter here brutha)
Speaking of milestones and stories, God's timing never ceases to amuse me. You see, June 29th, 2007 was the day that we arrived in New York City, clueless and terrified. Well, maybe not terrified, but definitely apprehensive about starting something new in a place so unfamiliar. So exactly one year later, The Porch met for the fourth time, we had the largest crowd so far (maybe 75 people by conservative estimate?), and the Lord did not spare us from the rain this time.
But it was this very rain that brought us together. You see, we just bought a cheapo fold-out canopy from Rite Aid (never again!) and finally decided to set it up on Sunday as a little shelter of sorts. It served mainly as the "art table" on Sunday, where we were planning on having this great creative circle and music time. Of course, God's plans for the day were a little different than ours. After everyone feasted on burritos and dressed up in various dresses (yes you heard me correctly), a sudden torrential downpour forced all of us under the canopy. There were probably 20 of us, plus several dogs, backpacks, guitars, art supplies, you name it all crammed together in a 10-square-foot space, huddling for whatever refuge we could find. Then, as the canopy leaked all over us and the rain blew in relentlessly, Mark and Puerto led us in a community sing-a-long. Guess we had the "circle time" after all!
Eventually the rain stopped and we spent the rest of the steamy day hanging out in the mud hole that was our gathering spot. It was still a glorious time - the high drag fashion show continued unabated, music rang out from time to time, and we made many new friends. We were reminded that we can make our big plans, but God still calls the shots (Proverbs 16:1). We ended up with a story about a day so colorful, wet and beautiful that it will forever be etched into our memories. And that is far more than we could have ever planned for our one year in NYC anniversary!
ANNOUNCEMENTS:
- Thank you so much to all who have donated recently, you are helping more than you can imagine to keep a beautiful, wonderful and strange thing rolling on. If you feel inclined to donate, you can easily do so via the magic button on the right side of the screen, and please remember that "Anything Helps!" We are also looking for donors for in-kind type of stuff, as we have a growing wish-list as things start to expand.
- Wish list right now:
- Socks (NEW, mens, crew, preferably black but white is ok too)
- Gold Bond foot powder
- Dental floss and sewing needles
- First-aid type stuff, i.e. bandaids, alcohol swabs, antifungal and antibacterial cream, etc
- Large, sturdy waterproof backpacks, like hiker type. We always seem to run into people whose packs have been lost or stolen
- FOOD! If you are in the NYC area, and you and/or your church or other organization are interested in serving meals, we are looking right now for groups who can commit to 1 Sunday a month.
- Legal assistance. Anyone with familiarity on New York state Religious Corporations law?
- A rent-free building on the LES (ha ha ha right? But hey, it's a wish list! Actually, we're perfectly ok with not having a building, and we don't even really want one right now. Just trying to think ahead, cuz it be cold in the winter here brutha)
Monday, June 16, 2008
June 15th at The Porch
Father's Day at The Porch was a lovely thing. It's always nice to get through your second week, because anyone can do something once. We had a good group, not as many as last week since we weren't at Tompkins, but more of a community vibe that is already starting to form. Some highlights from the day:
- Much meat was grilled on the ghetto-fabulous barbeque.
- The First Annual Porch wiffle ball tournament went off in classic fashion. Team Failure pulled off an unlikely last-inning comeback to win 6-5 over Team Haggard.
- Luke continued his relentless water soaking of nearly everyone involved.
- God parted the East River, which allowed us to pass on dry ground across to Greenpoint. Ok, maybe not, but he did stop a torrential downpour at the fervent prayers of Kelly and Luke, allowing us to grill in peace and not in a swamp.
Oh yes and of greatest importance, we (as a community) decided that we will have our Sunday meal/gatherings at East River Park instead of Tompkins, from now on. It's a little mellower at East River, and gives us a chance to relax comfortably without the constant insanity of TSP. So from here on out: The Porch, Sundays at 1 pm, East River Park by the 6th Street footbridge. Hear it, know it, love it.
- Much meat was grilled on the ghetto-fabulous barbeque.
- The First Annual Porch wiffle ball tournament went off in classic fashion. Team Failure pulled off an unlikely last-inning comeback to win 6-5 over Team Haggard.
- Luke continued his relentless water soaking of nearly everyone involved.
- God parted the East River, which allowed us to pass on dry ground across to Greenpoint. Ok, maybe not, but he did stop a torrential downpour at the fervent prayers of Kelly and Luke, allowing us to grill in peace and not in a swamp.
Oh yes and of greatest importance, we (as a community) decided that we will have our Sunday meal/gatherings at East River Park instead of Tompkins, from now on. It's a little mellower at East River, and gives us a chance to relax comfortably without the constant insanity of TSP. So from here on out: The Porch, Sundays at 1 pm, East River Park by the 6th Street footbridge. Hear it, know it, love it.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
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
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
Monday, June 9, 2008
Porch First Sunday Photo Bonanza!!!
Here's some pics from Sunday:
Our friendly neighborhood Pharisee lady!!!
Our friendly neighborhood Pharisee lady!!!
Viva The Porch!!
I am happy to break the relatively lengthy silence of this blog with some news - The Porch has begun! So now, the question that you are most likely asking is: "What in the heck is the Porch? Why do you guys feel it necessary to keep naming things differently? What is the meaning of life?" Well, I intend to answer all the above questions, except for the meaning of life, which you can figure out on your own.
It's really a long story, and Kelly is preparing a fabulous post that will describe our crazy journey of the last several weeks with the eloquence that only she can provide. In the meanwhile - I'll give you the "bullet points version:"
- A few weeks ago we randomly met up with our dear friends Chris and Shannon from Portland while walking around the Lower East Side. Hilarity ensued, along with plans to start a church - right NOW - in Tompkins Square Park. How's that for fast-forward on the whole planning thing?
- After several intense, midnight-oil burning meetings (or not) a plan was devised for the birthing of this as-of-that-moment-unnamed church gathering.
- This past Sunday, June 8th (interesting 1 year to the day from when we left Portland) we arrived at Tompkins, 1pm, to a crowd of about 25-30 of our beautiful new friends, waiting for church in the park. Over the course of the next 3-4 hours we fed about 50 people, made a lot of new friends, heard some great music, played with water, got harassed by a lovely Pharasical woman, got not-harrassed by the cops, had many deep and many shallow conversations, nearly melted in the sweltering pre-summer record NYC heat wave, and generally made much merriment. Next week we're gonna have a barbeque down at the East River Park and play wiffleball. Waddya think of that?
- Oh yeah, The Porch. Well I'll let Kelly explain that too, since it was her idea. But everyone seems to be down with it, so that's the name, for now - The Porch. So just to clear things up:
- 141 NYC is the name of the non-profit/ outreach
- The Porch is the "church in the park"
- Tortuga House is where we live in deep south Brooklyn. Come over some time, sit on the floor, and meet our kitty who is not female, as we suspected.
Well that about sums it up for now, and helps to clear my conscience about not updating the blog enough. Have a wonderful day, because wherever you are right now, it's probably not as hot as NYC is today.
It's really a long story, and Kelly is preparing a fabulous post that will describe our crazy journey of the last several weeks with the eloquence that only she can provide. In the meanwhile - I'll give you the "bullet points version:"
- A few weeks ago we randomly met up with our dear friends Chris and Shannon from Portland while walking around the Lower East Side. Hilarity ensued, along with plans to start a church - right NOW - in Tompkins Square Park. How's that for fast-forward on the whole planning thing?
- After several intense, midnight-oil burning meetings (or not) a plan was devised for the birthing of this as-of-that-moment-unnamed church gathering.
- This past Sunday, June 8th (interesting 1 year to the day from when we left Portland) we arrived at Tompkins, 1pm, to a crowd of about 25-30 of our beautiful new friends, waiting for church in the park. Over the course of the next 3-4 hours we fed about 50 people, made a lot of new friends, heard some great music, played with water, got harassed by a lovely Pharasical woman, got not-harrassed by the cops, had many deep and many shallow conversations, nearly melted in the sweltering pre-summer record NYC heat wave, and generally made much merriment. Next week we're gonna have a barbeque down at the East River Park and play wiffleball. Waddya think of that?
- Oh yeah, The Porch. Well I'll let Kelly explain that too, since it was her idea. But everyone seems to be down with it, so that's the name, for now - The Porch. So just to clear things up:
- 141 NYC is the name of the non-profit/ outreach
- The Porch is the "church in the park"
- Tortuga House is where we live in deep south Brooklyn. Come over some time, sit on the floor, and meet our kitty who is not female, as we suspected.
Well that about sums it up for now, and helps to clear my conscience about not updating the blog enough. Have a wonderful day, because wherever you are right now, it's probably not as hot as NYC is today.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Update schmupdate
Hey friends, I realize that it has been a really, really long time since we have updated this blog. Yes, we're still here and no, we haven't quit. In fact, it's really hard to believe that it has been over a month since 141-NYC officially started, and already things are cruising along. Some folks around Union Square already call us "The Sock People," and I guess that's as good a designation as one could ask for!
Now that we are getting the "routine" down, we are finally ready to start building and welcoming others in on the party. So, very soon we will be having an open house-type affair where anyone in the area who is interested can learn more about who we are and what we are about. Stay tuned for the specific date and time.
We are still working on the website also. Life is busy, what can I say? We love you all and we love to hear from you, please say hello if you have the time.
Now that we are getting the "routine" down, we are finally ready to start building and welcoming others in on the party. So, very soon we will be having an open house-type affair where anyone in the area who is interested can learn more about who we are and what we are about. Stay tuned for the specific date and time.
We are still working on the website also. Life is busy, what can I say? We love you all and we love to hear from you, please say hello if you have the time.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Happy Birthday
Saturday marked the day that 141 NYC forged ahead and put our feet into motion. All this time I’ve been comparing our move to NYC to labor pains, and the birth being our arrival to NYC, but last Saturday marks the official birthday of 141 NYC. I’ve walked around 14th Street and Union Square over a dozen times before to prepare for the day, but Saturday was like no other. The past 8 months of living in the unknown have been filled with uncertainty and constant waiting. I have spent many restless nights, waking in cold sweats, and crying out to God, “What have you done with my heart?” I’ve missed my friends and family. I’ve pined for the warm sand and perfect longboard waves of San Diego, home. I’ve yearned for those wet and misty streets of Portland, my heart. I’ve loved and lost lives to those streets. My blood, sweat and tears have dripped alongside my friends, into its very core, giving life to the roots that have intertwined us.
In 8 months I’ve struggled to have a heart for NY. The streets of Manhattan are rougher and usually have dog shit or bubblegum to welcome your brand new sneakers. Mixtures of strong perfumes, rotting mountains of garbage lining each block, Halal food carts, and the pungent odor of piss are a part of everyday life. Although Portland can have these qualities, it’s funny how the mind distorts our memory when we miss something so much. For a while all I could remember were the 70 degree days and sidewalks that glitter. I couldn’t get past those summer nights when we’d all sit around and either Keith, Sam, Dorje, Vern, and/or Jamie would serenade us with their guitars.
As soon as my feet touched the sidewalk last Saturday and I looked up into that building-lined gray sky, I sensed a familiarity. Light snow fell on me and I found my feet doing that back and forth cold dance that Ken Loyd has mastered so well. It was all coming back to me. My backpack was heavy and my stomach was knotted. I prayed for the spirit to guide us, then pushed off into the chaos. We made many friends and passed out many socks. We laid hands on a very ill older man and prayed over his fragile, dying body. He clutched onto my Dad’s hands and wouldn’t let go. His eyes were the same eyes I had seen a thousand times before, gentle and wise. At the end of the day we even found a $20 bill which covered our costs for the day (thanks to our friends Jeronimo and Rebecca for their donation)
Every second I’d lived up until that moment was preparation for what was to be born that day. All of the waiting and days spent in the dark had to happen. The streets may look, feel, and smell different, but I saw Christ in every eye that I looked into. The very eyes that brought me back to Him when I fell away. So in a way 141 NYC wasn’t born, but rather begotten. It took 3 years and 8 long months to get here, but we’re here and we’re lighting the way. All has been confirmed and my heart has been restored. The roots are still intertwined with family and friends in San Diego, and our Brothers and Sisters in Portland. But now they go deeper and spread further, as far as the East is from the West. Happy Birthday 141 NYC!
-Kelly
In 8 months I’ve struggled to have a heart for NY. The streets of Manhattan are rougher and usually have dog shit or bubblegum to welcome your brand new sneakers. Mixtures of strong perfumes, rotting mountains of garbage lining each block, Halal food carts, and the pungent odor of piss are a part of everyday life. Although Portland can have these qualities, it’s funny how the mind distorts our memory when we miss something so much. For a while all I could remember were the 70 degree days and sidewalks that glitter. I couldn’t get past those summer nights when we’d all sit around and either Keith, Sam, Dorje, Vern, and/or Jamie would serenade us with their guitars.
As soon as my feet touched the sidewalk last Saturday and I looked up into that building-lined gray sky, I sensed a familiarity. Light snow fell on me and I found my feet doing that back and forth cold dance that Ken Loyd has mastered so well. It was all coming back to me. My backpack was heavy and my stomach was knotted. I prayed for the spirit to guide us, then pushed off into the chaos. We made many friends and passed out many socks. We laid hands on a very ill older man and prayed over his fragile, dying body. He clutched onto my Dad’s hands and wouldn’t let go. His eyes were the same eyes I had seen a thousand times before, gentle and wise. At the end of the day we even found a $20 bill which covered our costs for the day (thanks to our friends Jeronimo and Rebecca for their donation)
Every second I’d lived up until that moment was preparation for what was to be born that day. All of the waiting and days spent in the dark had to happen. The streets may look, feel, and smell different, but I saw Christ in every eye that I looked into. The very eyes that brought me back to Him when I fell away. So in a way 141 NYC wasn’t born, but rather begotten. It took 3 years and 8 long months to get here, but we’re here and we’re lighting the way. All has been confirmed and my heart has been restored. The roots are still intertwined with family and friends in San Diego, and our Brothers and Sisters in Portland. But now they go deeper and spread further, as far as the East is from the West. Happy Birthday 141 NYC!
-Kelly
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Much love
Big, big ups and heaping piles of love to Fusion Purchase (as in SUNY Purchase), our new partners who are starting a collection to help out with supplies for 141NYC. Notice that the call for help was posted on Feb 11th - last week - and they were there and down to help almost instantly. God is good.
In other news: HomePDX now on the interwebs, via Myspace -- go and be a friend.
In other news: HomePDX now on the interwebs, via Myspace -- go and be a friend.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Update-idge
The latest updates from Tortuga Central Command:
- We are now called "Tortuga House." I think it has a better ring to it. Also it goes along with the traditions that we draw from -- for example the Houses of Hospitality of the Catholic Worker Movement.
- This Saturday will be our first "official" outreach in Manhattan. Thanks to those who donated, your gifts will be utilized on what looks to be a rather cold, dreary day.
- We are now partnering/ volunteering with a great organization called Reaching Out Community Services in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. They have a food pantry serving the poor in south Brooklyn and also lots of insight into homeless outreach.
- We have been participating in the "Artists Group" at North Brooklyn Vineyard. This has been very fun so far, and is helping us to work out some ideas for our community gatherings as well. It is truly amazing to experience how just being around other creative people gets the stagnant juices flowing once again.
- An actual website for Tortuga House is under construction.
- We are considering having an informational gathering for anyone interested in being a part of Tortuga House, whether through the outreach or the community gatherings (which will start happening very soon). If you are reading this and would like to know more, leave a comment with your contact info, or send us an email.
That's it for today - we want to hear from you, please leave comments!!!
- We are now called "Tortuga House." I think it has a better ring to it. Also it goes along with the traditions that we draw from -- for example the Houses of Hospitality of the Catholic Worker Movement.
- This Saturday will be our first "official" outreach in Manhattan. Thanks to those who donated, your gifts will be utilized on what looks to be a rather cold, dreary day.
- We are now partnering/ volunteering with a great organization called Reaching Out Community Services in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. They have a food pantry serving the poor in south Brooklyn and also lots of insight into homeless outreach.
- We have been participating in the "Artists Group" at North Brooklyn Vineyard. This has been very fun so far, and is helping us to work out some ideas for our community gatherings as well. It is truly amazing to experience how just being around other creative people gets the stagnant juices flowing once again.
- An actual website for Tortuga House is under construction.
- We are considering having an informational gathering for anyone interested in being a part of Tortuga House, whether through the outreach or the community gatherings (which will start happening very soon). If you are reading this and would like to know more, leave a comment with your contact info, or send us an email.
That's it for today - we want to hear from you, please leave comments!!!
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