Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Skid Row Outreach
07/16
Today was both wonderful and terrible. A day of contrasts, and emotional highs and lows.
I woke at 9:30, not long before we had to meet for an outreach that I was not really looking forward too. The plan, put forth by the new outreach coordinators Sarah and Ryan was to go to Skid Row and minister to the many homeless there. My headache from the previous night was mostly gone but I was not in the best mood regardless. I showered, cleaned up the absolute mess in the kitchen from everyone making their lunches, and went over to the girl’s house for the meeting before we were to leave. I decided that I was not going to fight the fact that I needed to go even if it was going to be uncomfortable…not that I’m scared of skid row itself, but it’s a daunting task in my case because of my pervasive issues with taking initiative in ministry.
We walked to the Dash stop on Figueroa and all 21 of us made it onto the first bus that pulled up. We caught the transfer bus at 7th which took us almost all the way to the Fashion District on the edge of skid row. By now, the fact of living on the edge of downtown Los Angeles has become normal to me so I didn’t marvel at how little time the trip took as I have in the past. We began to walk down 7th toward the heart of skid row, which is intersected by San Julian and San Pedro streets.
Two to three girls were placed in groups with one guy. Jeannine and Christal were in mine. I was happy to have Christal along; she is very outgoing with people she has never met, especially the homeless. I am almost the polar opposite of that…a fact I admitted to her as we approached the downtrodden area which the workers at the L.A. Mission prefer to call “Hope Central”. She prayed for us, and for me, and I was very encouraged. I decided to just put aside my worries and concerns and just see what would happen. We walked down San Julian, the heart of Skid Row…we talked to a couple of people, but not for long, we prayed for one man. We rounded the corner at 5th in front of the L.A. Mission…a lady was sitting on the corner in a wheelchair…well, that was her gender as far as I could tell. She looked very ill…and responded affirmatively when Christial asked if she needed prayer (I had spent the past few minutes fighting my reservations while Christal took the majority of initiative in approaching people. Her name was Coco…she still wore bracelets that betrayed a recent hospital stay. She was very sick with AIDS…she cried as Christal prayed for her, I watched because for safety reasons one person had to keep their eyes open during prayer…I also watched because I struggled to comprehend what she was experiencing, and could not. My inability to be empathetic was frustrating, and left me wondering how to respond.
Leaving Coco behind we crossed over into San Julian park. A lot sized green oasis in the midst of urine stained concrete hell. There we met one lady, and then a twenty year old Hispanic man named Cortez who lives in the Valley but was there with a friend. He got out of jail on Thursday and needs a job. He was also very receptive to our prayers.
Time began to pass more quickly…we met a man on the sidewalk who very openly admitted his struggle with his narcotics addiction. He desperately wanted to believe in the Gospel, but couldn’t see that God could overpower his addiction. While we were talking to him I was approached by this older man named Robert and he began to talk to me…for the next two hours. It wasn’t tedious however, I knew that he needed someone to talk to and he talked about everything from movies, things to see in L.A., Texas and his odd theories about the connection between the government and the church. I never really got through to him about that much but I was able to be someone to talk to. I was really tired after the two hours though. He followed the three of us everywhere (not uninvited). We ended up at the church...I talked to Robert and the girls prayed with people as we met them.
I had a bad headache and was growing irritable when we were at the church talking about the day. Everyone had stories, crazy things they had seen. While working at the prayer table a couple of the students watched a drug deal happen a few feet away, and then a man shoot up with heroin minutes later, on the street in broad daylight.
On our way back my headache worsened, the bus wouldn’t come, I was very impatient. It had been a tough day emotionally and spiritually. I was happy to return to the house, I knew that I was not being the most agreeable person. This project has brought out the best and worst in everyone. We can’t hide anything when we’re living this close and spending this much time together.
Today was both wonderful and terrible. A day of contrasts, and emotional highs and lows.
I woke at 9:30, not long before we had to meet for an outreach that I was not really looking forward too. The plan, put forth by the new outreach coordinators Sarah and Ryan was to go to Skid Row and minister to the many homeless there. My headache from the previous night was mostly gone but I was not in the best mood regardless. I showered, cleaned up the absolute mess in the kitchen from everyone making their lunches, and went over to the girl’s house for the meeting before we were to leave. I decided that I was not going to fight the fact that I needed to go even if it was going to be uncomfortable…not that I’m scared of skid row itself, but it’s a daunting task in my case because of my pervasive issues with taking initiative in ministry.
We walked to the Dash stop on Figueroa and all 21 of us made it onto the first bus that pulled up. We caught the transfer bus at 7th which took us almost all the way to the Fashion District on the edge of skid row. By now, the fact of living on the edge of downtown Los Angeles has become normal to me so I didn’t marvel at how little time the trip took as I have in the past. We began to walk down 7th toward the heart of skid row, which is intersected by San Julian and San Pedro streets.
Two to three girls were placed in groups with one guy. Jeannine and Christal were in mine. I was happy to have Christal along; she is very outgoing with people she has never met, especially the homeless. I am almost the polar opposite of that…a fact I admitted to her as we approached the downtrodden area which the workers at the L.A. Mission prefer to call “Hope Central”. She prayed for us, and for me, and I was very encouraged. I decided to just put aside my worries and concerns and just see what would happen. We walked down San Julian, the heart of Skid Row…we talked to a couple of people, but not for long, we prayed for one man. We rounded the corner at 5th in front of the L.A. Mission…a lady was sitting on the corner in a wheelchair…well, that was her gender as far as I could tell. She looked very ill…and responded affirmatively when Christial asked if she needed prayer (I had spent the past few minutes fighting my reservations while Christal took the majority of initiative in approaching people. Her name was Coco…she still wore bracelets that betrayed a recent hospital stay. She was very sick with AIDS…she cried as Christal prayed for her, I watched because for safety reasons one person had to keep their eyes open during prayer…I also watched because I struggled to comprehend what she was experiencing, and could not. My inability to be empathetic was frustrating, and left me wondering how to respond.
Leaving Coco behind we crossed over into San Julian park. A lot sized green oasis in the midst of urine stained concrete hell. There we met one lady, and then a twenty year old Hispanic man named Cortez who lives in the Valley but was there with a friend. He got out of jail on Thursday and needs a job. He was also very receptive to our prayers.
Time began to pass more quickly…we met a man on the sidewalk who very openly admitted his struggle with his narcotics addiction. He desperately wanted to believe in the Gospel, but couldn’t see that God could overpower his addiction. While we were talking to him I was approached by this older man named Robert and he began to talk to me…for the next two hours. It wasn’t tedious however, I knew that he needed someone to talk to and he talked about everything from movies, things to see in L.A., Texas and his odd theories about the connection between the government and the church. I never really got through to him about that much but I was able to be someone to talk to. I was really tired after the two hours though. He followed the three of us everywhere (not uninvited). We ended up at the church...I talked to Robert and the girls prayed with people as we met them.
I had a bad headache and was growing irritable when we were at the church talking about the day. Everyone had stories, crazy things they had seen. While working at the prayer table a couple of the students watched a drug deal happen a few feet away, and then a man shoot up with heroin minutes later, on the street in broad daylight.
On our way back my headache worsened, the bus wouldn’t come, I was very impatient. It had been a tough day emotionally and spiritually. I was happy to return to the house, I knew that I was not being the most agreeable person. This project has brought out the best and worst in everyone. We can’t hide anything when we’re living this close and spending this much time together.
Short Post
07/14
We got a late start, purposefully. First EV Free let us work a half day because we had accomplished so much in the first three and two of us have been pretty sick this week. The extra sleep was well appreciated by everyone in the group. We ate lunch on the porch and drove to the church.
We decided to shift roles…I took over registration and became a floater and timer…while Jessica took over the games. I was not too prideful to admit that it just wasn’t my place this week. It worked awesomely.
We got a late start, purposefully. First EV Free let us work a half day because we had accomplished so much in the first three and two of us have been pretty sick this week. The extra sleep was well appreciated by everyone in the group. We ate lunch on the porch and drove to the church.
We decided to shift roles…I took over registration and became a floater and timer…while Jessica took over the games. I was not too prideful to admit that it just wasn’t my place this week. It worked awesomely.
First EV Free
I had, today, the most disparity of emotions and experiences so far this week. I was in a substantially better mood, not waking up to a parking ticket again helped that significantly. J.C. continued to feel sick so he took a leave of absence for the first half of the day as the rest of J-Town drove to the church. We had a great morning, laughing, talking and getting much accomplished. It was one of the best working days that I’ve had on project. J.C. was not feeling better when I called him after lunch but he wanted to join us anyway. The man has a great deal of fortitude. Jessica and I had just returned from going first to a 99 cent store, and then to Ralph’s to get everything that we could not find at the previous store for the afternoon. I returned with J.C. to the project site and things continued to go well until the kids arrived.
Now, perhaps one of my worst moments on project was happening. I was again in charge of the games…but because of the way the rules for today’s assigned game were written, I had a difficult time figuring out how to describe them to the kids. Now, I was surrounded by a dozen or so of the fourth and fifth graders looking expectantly…and I was forced to turn to their “family group” leader to take over because I just could not figure out how to communicate to them so that they could learn the game. Frustrating, it was very very frustrating. I don’t have problems communicating with kids; I learned that at the previous site. However, when it comes to teaching younger kids things, I just have a long way to figure that out. I fared even worse with the younger kids. I wanted to just bolt out of there…I know the kids didn’t notice, but I was embarrassed and felt like a failure because I, despite my intelligence and relative maturity, could not communicate simple ideas because of who knows what.
After a few long hours (really just 45 minutes) of that, it was time for the family groups to meet before the final rally for the day. I could not have been happier; However, I was still too disappointed in myself to really be involved. I know I need to trust God more to help me where I lack but I am having a difficult time with that right now. The other J-town guys were really encouraging which helped put things into perspective, but I still felt disappointed and apprehensive about my role in the project in general. Sometimes I catch myself almost believing that the only contribution I can make to the project is driving people around, running errands and giving people directions. I know, I really really know that is not the case, but still I catch myself believing that. I struggle just like others struggle, but when I am not trusting God, when I am trusting in myself as I have today, those struggles seem to become magnified.
The day was definitely not a total loss. I rebounded quickly from the afternoon. I really bonded with my team mates…especially Jacklyn, which was definitely cool, she is one of the most genuine girls that I have ever met and I’m definitely glad she is on my team. Jen, Jessica and J.C. are all solid too…I have been blessed with an amazing team.
Dinner was excellent. Pastor Faye made good on her orientation week promise to come over and feed us “soul food”…barbeque chicken, some awesome cheesy mac stuff, and cornbread. Good times…I really dug into the cheesy mac. Following dinner we went on the long awaited trip to the now project famed glow in the dark miniature golf place near Marina Del Rey. The place was an absolute blast, the only issue was my frustration when we were trying to determine who was going and in which car…other case of the drivers having to basically parent other members of the project. I need to learn not to take it so personally though. I rode with three J-town people and Mike…I was temporarily frustrated with Mike for being spacey when we were leaving but quickly snapped out of it on the drive there, he and I get along extremely well so it is hard to stay mad at someone like him for anything. We in particular had a good time at the golf place…the trip was actually our idea. Miniature golf is fun enough on its own, but this place had absolutely ridiculous decorative stuff on the inside, it was amazing, mushrooms and monkeys and stuff like that. I took a few dozen pictures and most of us (12 in all) spent most of our time between holes dancing to the very danceable music on the speakers. A few of us considered abandoning the game around the 15th hole to just focus on rocking out but we decided to finish. Mike was hilarious, he looked straight out of the seventies…there he found a hat that totally matched his tie dyed shirt, which he wore along with, I’m not kidding, women’s bell bottom jeans. It’s extremely ironic when he reminds people that he is really conservative politically. You’re probably just as likely to see George W. Bush do drugs in college…
Late night on the lawn, Mike and Jen borrowed a laptop and are currently watching Van Helsing in front of the house…not my kind of movie, but I joined them for a while to hang out and talk while starting up at the palm trees above us and admiring the eight or so visible stars…which, I have to point out, I now find myself referring to as a “lot” of stars…one month in L.A. has really changed my perspective on a lot of simple things like that…I wonder what another month will do but I’m excited at the possibilities.
Now, perhaps one of my worst moments on project was happening. I was again in charge of the games…but because of the way the rules for today’s assigned game were written, I had a difficult time figuring out how to describe them to the kids. Now, I was surrounded by a dozen or so of the fourth and fifth graders looking expectantly…and I was forced to turn to their “family group” leader to take over because I just could not figure out how to communicate to them so that they could learn the game. Frustrating, it was very very frustrating. I don’t have problems communicating with kids; I learned that at the previous site. However, when it comes to teaching younger kids things, I just have a long way to figure that out. I fared even worse with the younger kids. I wanted to just bolt out of there…I know the kids didn’t notice, but I was embarrassed and felt like a failure because I, despite my intelligence and relative maturity, could not communicate simple ideas because of who knows what.
After a few long hours (really just 45 minutes) of that, it was time for the family groups to meet before the final rally for the day. I could not have been happier; However, I was still too disappointed in myself to really be involved. I know I need to trust God more to help me where I lack but I am having a difficult time with that right now. The other J-town guys were really encouraging which helped put things into perspective, but I still felt disappointed and apprehensive about my role in the project in general. Sometimes I catch myself almost believing that the only contribution I can make to the project is driving people around, running errands and giving people directions. I know, I really really know that is not the case, but still I catch myself believing that. I struggle just like others struggle, but when I am not trusting God, when I am trusting in myself as I have today, those struggles seem to become magnified.
The day was definitely not a total loss. I rebounded quickly from the afternoon. I really bonded with my team mates…especially Jacklyn, which was definitely cool, she is one of the most genuine girls that I have ever met and I’m definitely glad she is on my team. Jen, Jessica and J.C. are all solid too…I have been blessed with an amazing team.
Dinner was excellent. Pastor Faye made good on her orientation week promise to come over and feed us “soul food”…barbeque chicken, some awesome cheesy mac stuff, and cornbread. Good times…I really dug into the cheesy mac. Following dinner we went on the long awaited trip to the now project famed glow in the dark miniature golf place near Marina Del Rey. The place was an absolute blast, the only issue was my frustration when we were trying to determine who was going and in which car…other case of the drivers having to basically parent other members of the project. I need to learn not to take it so personally though. I rode with three J-town people and Mike…I was temporarily frustrated with Mike for being spacey when we were leaving but quickly snapped out of it on the drive there, he and I get along extremely well so it is hard to stay mad at someone like him for anything. We in particular had a good time at the golf place…the trip was actually our idea. Miniature golf is fun enough on its own, but this place had absolutely ridiculous decorative stuff on the inside, it was amazing, mushrooms and monkeys and stuff like that. I took a few dozen pictures and most of us (12 in all) spent most of our time between holes dancing to the very danceable music on the speakers. A few of us considered abandoning the game around the 15th hole to just focus on rocking out but we decided to finish. Mike was hilarious, he looked straight out of the seventies…there he found a hat that totally matched his tie dyed shirt, which he wore along with, I’m not kidding, women’s bell bottom jeans. It’s extremely ironic when he reminds people that he is really conservative politically. You’re probably just as likely to see George W. Bush do drugs in college…
Late night on the lawn, Mike and Jen borrowed a laptop and are currently watching Van Helsing in front of the house…not my kind of movie, but I joined them for a while to hang out and talk while starting up at the palm trees above us and admiring the eight or so visible stars…which, I have to point out, I now find myself referring to as a “lot” of stars…one month in L.A. has really changed my perspective on a lot of simple things like that…I wonder what another month will do but I’m excited at the possibilities.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Carne Asada = Good times
Monday morning and we’re getting ready, I think, to go to our new ministry site at the First Evangelical Free Church. I’m excited, we’re going to be working with kids (again); however this church has a really solid ministry going in the Pico Union neighborhood. It’s a challenging neighborhood but the church seems to fit right into the community there. We attended a celebration service there on Sunday. They combined the English and Spanish speaking congregations for a united meeting because they had an amazing financial breakthrough earlier in the week. The service was nice, but long because they were translating everything. The benefits of a church celebration usually include good food, which we partook of next door in the pastor’s backyard: Delicious carne asada, frijoles mexicanos, rice and watermelon…good stuff. After a satisfying hour we drove back to the project house. The day went downhill from that point. Josiah was getting on my nerves, exponentially more than previously…I needed to get away from him but couldn’t because most of the guys were gone to the team captains meeting. I asked Mike to go to Ralph’s with me and Josiah kindly invited himself along. Jen came to though…I was thinking extremely negatively at this point, never a good thing. I survived the trip without blowing up at him. Dinner was a highly, the girls, mostly Lindsey (a pretty cool girl now that I have gotten to know her), made an amazing dinner out of mostly leftovers. The captains returned and J-town went to Starbucks (I need to vindicate myself against claims of hypocrisy here by stating that the Salvation Army gave us ten dollar gift cards there…and I don’t mind free stuff, since they’ve gotten the money already anyway) for a “short” meeting that turned into a really good hour long meeting where we got to talk about many issues and prayed for them as well.
Ups and Downs
Evenings were less than perfect this week, by far. Tuesday was placid…David Jason and I went with Juan to his apartment for a stimulating Action Group discussion. I decided to go though Mere Christianity with Juan and made the decision to meet with him one on one at seven in the morning on Friday…which I naturally regretted later.
Wednesday, free night, well, theoretically it was. In honestly the first part of the night was hardly free. A certain level of drama had developed in the house centering on a single member of the project. While the other eight of us usually get along and are like minded and solid; this guy brings an unfortunate destabilizing element to the project. He wasn’t accepted by the staff, but transferred to the Los Angeles project when the Detroit project was canceled due to a lack of interest. He has been a serious point of conflict. He’s mentally unstable at times, very awkward, self-centered and often demanding…and shares a room with myself and Joseph. In short, he is very hard for me to love but I’m trying, everyone is trying. Everyone has catered to him at some point but that has never helped. Anyway, and incident (totally unprovoked) happened between him and Mike that ended up with both Max and Tom driving out to the house and the four of them having a discussion. It was decided that he is one step away from being sent home from the project. Mike, fortunately, was vindicated of any wrong doing. He handled himself extremely well considering that personally I would have had a hard time not reacting harshly myself.
We still tried to make a night of it though. Mike, Jen, Liz, David and at least one other girl went to Hollywood. I finally returned to Amoeba Records, one of the coolest music stores on the planet and one of the largest independent ones. I only bought one CD, which dropped my average per visit to 3.5 (this was my second trip there). We decided to drive over to Hollywood Blvd. and walk around…we should have just walked it was only three blocks away, a point I tried to make but didn’t get across. I dropped them off at a place where something important was happening with beautiful people out front and parked back around Sunset, close to where we originally parked. I met up with them at Hollywood and Vine and we walked all the way to the Chinese Theater and back. It was a good time but we were very pressed for it after the incident earlier in the evening. An LAPD helicopter was circling overhead when Mike, Jen and I got back to the car…but it left before any of us could figure out why it was there.
Thursday – A training that I really did not want to attend. I was exhausted and pretty irritable. I had a hard time paying attention. The speaker was interesting but it was hard to keep my interest. I was even more disconnected with the night’s corporate worship than I usually am. There were a flood of semi-pointless announcements and Jason got up to apologize because Monday night’s skit had apparently offended a couple of people (they had some validity but I thought it was a little over-reactive). On the ride back the most problematic girl on the project was in the back seat and within a few blocks of driving I was ready to blow up at her but I restrained myself (she may be going home in a few days because she is really unstable and causing a lot of problems on Mike’s team, I’m fortunate that she is not on my team). I guess the night seems really negative after all I just mentioned. It wasn’t all that bad; however, it marked a significant increase in my disgruntlement at certain aspects of the project. I was encouraged to see Mike talk to Josiah and take some serious iniative to patch things up…a huge step on his part, a step that I probably wouldn’t have had the heart to take. It’s amazing to see people change on this project right before my eyes. I was in the coffee shop on Union when they walked in. I couldn’t help but smile. I really think a lot of Mike…I told him that later on…I hadn’t appreciated him like I should have been. I had started to let negative thought and perceptions cloud my view of him. Those are gone now, and I can’t help but love the guy. I love how God enables me to get past all of my barriers that could easily keep me from loving people.
Friday – No incidents this night, thankfully. However I could have had a better time. The week had gotten to me so I was short tempered and irritable. Mike, Jessica, Josiah (a side-effect of Mike reconciling with him meant he had to come along, but I made sure Mike knew that I wasn’t upset for him inviting Josiah along…although I am still haven’t a tough time with him myself), Robbie and I went first to Downtown…and seeing everything interesting closed we drove out to Westwood and walked around the Beautiful U.C.L.A. campus. After going back to Westwood we were all tired and hungry but never ended up agreeing on a place to go (a brief point of conflict between Mike and I but I had learned my lesson the previous weekend so I relented and tried to fight my selfishness). We drove up to the house twenty minutes later, but finally decided to go look for a place to eat (after dropping off Josiah, which was not a premeditated action). The night ended without further incident, but I was definitely ready to take my fairly negative attitude to bed.
Wednesday, free night, well, theoretically it was. In honestly the first part of the night was hardly free. A certain level of drama had developed in the house centering on a single member of the project. While the other eight of us usually get along and are like minded and solid; this guy brings an unfortunate destabilizing element to the project. He wasn’t accepted by the staff, but transferred to the Los Angeles project when the Detroit project was canceled due to a lack of interest. He has been a serious point of conflict. He’s mentally unstable at times, very awkward, self-centered and often demanding…and shares a room with myself and Joseph. In short, he is very hard for me to love but I’m trying, everyone is trying. Everyone has catered to him at some point but that has never helped. Anyway, and incident (totally unprovoked) happened between him and Mike that ended up with both Max and Tom driving out to the house and the four of them having a discussion. It was decided that he is one step away from being sent home from the project. Mike, fortunately, was vindicated of any wrong doing. He handled himself extremely well considering that personally I would have had a hard time not reacting harshly myself.
We still tried to make a night of it though. Mike, Jen, Liz, David and at least one other girl went to Hollywood. I finally returned to Amoeba Records, one of the coolest music stores on the planet and one of the largest independent ones. I only bought one CD, which dropped my average per visit to 3.5 (this was my second trip there). We decided to drive over to Hollywood Blvd. and walk around…we should have just walked it was only three blocks away, a point I tried to make but didn’t get across. I dropped them off at a place where something important was happening with beautiful people out front and parked back around Sunset, close to where we originally parked. I met up with them at Hollywood and Vine and we walked all the way to the Chinese Theater and back. It was a good time but we were very pressed for it after the incident earlier in the evening. An LAPD helicopter was circling overhead when Mike, Jen and I got back to the car…but it left before any of us could figure out why it was there.
Thursday – A training that I really did not want to attend. I was exhausted and pretty irritable. I had a hard time paying attention. The speaker was interesting but it was hard to keep my interest. I was even more disconnected with the night’s corporate worship than I usually am. There were a flood of semi-pointless announcements and Jason got up to apologize because Monday night’s skit had apparently offended a couple of people (they had some validity but I thought it was a little over-reactive). On the ride back the most problematic girl on the project was in the back seat and within a few blocks of driving I was ready to blow up at her but I restrained myself (she may be going home in a few days because she is really unstable and causing a lot of problems on Mike’s team, I’m fortunate that she is not on my team). I guess the night seems really negative after all I just mentioned. It wasn’t all that bad; however, it marked a significant increase in my disgruntlement at certain aspects of the project. I was encouraged to see Mike talk to Josiah and take some serious iniative to patch things up…a huge step on his part, a step that I probably wouldn’t have had the heart to take. It’s amazing to see people change on this project right before my eyes. I was in the coffee shop on Union when they walked in. I couldn’t help but smile. I really think a lot of Mike…I told him that later on…I hadn’t appreciated him like I should have been. I had started to let negative thought and perceptions cloud my view of him. Those are gone now, and I can’t help but love the guy. I love how God enables me to get past all of my barriers that could easily keep me from loving people.
Friday – No incidents this night, thankfully. However I could have had a better time. The week had gotten to me so I was short tempered and irritable. Mike, Jessica, Josiah (a side-effect of Mike reconciling with him meant he had to come along, but I made sure Mike knew that I wasn’t upset for him inviting Josiah along…although I am still haven’t a tough time with him myself), Robbie and I went first to Downtown…and seeing everything interesting closed we drove out to Westwood and walked around the Beautiful U.C.L.A. campus. After going back to Westwood we were all tired and hungry but never ended up agreeing on a place to go (a brief point of conflict between Mike and I but I had learned my lesson the previous weekend so I relented and tried to fight my selfishness). We drove up to the house twenty minutes later, but finally decided to go look for a place to eat (after dropping off Josiah, which was not a premeditated action). The night ended without further incident, but I was definitely ready to take my fairly negative attitude to bed.
Straght Outta...
Compton turned out to be our team’s destination for the rest of the week. We were assigned to work for the Salvation Army there. Captain Martin Ross directed us and he and his family are amazing people. A graduate of UC Berkley, he moved to Compton to pastor and help build the Salvation Army’s presence there. They do so much work; I was fully amazed at the spectrum of their involvement in that troubled community.
While not quite as bad as its reputation would suggest, Compton does have a disproportionate share of problems…particularly related to violent crime and gangs. I picked up the Los Angeles Times today to read that the city’s (Compton is a separate city from Los Angeles) murder rate had drastically increased in the past year. We were visited on Friday by two Los Angeles County Sheriff Officers who explained the city’s plight, so I was not at all surprised to read it in the times…A fascinating aspect of this project is learning so much about Los Angeles, from so many different angles. Most people would be afraid to visit the areas in which we will continue to work. That is a shame, there is so much that can be learned there. I was thrilled to hear an explanation of the L.A. riots from an African-American lady who was there when it happened, and from a completely different view than I have heard every other explanation (I will likely write about this at some point).
The kids were at once frustrating and lovable. Inner City kids face so many obstacles and have so much working against them…but they are still kids…Very different kids...kids who are forced into adult situations before they are even close to ready. One of their day camp activities was writing letters to solders. Most of those letters focused on the aspect of killing…advice on what guns and bullets to use, admonishments to kill as many of their enemies as possible. Very different than the content that you would likely see from similar letters written by their peers in Austin or Tucson. The mentality they are raised in is one of, essentially, guerrilla warfare…Gangs, guns and drugs. One kid, probably less than ten years old, asked a solider if they “use the same bullets as the bad people on the street”. It is not a hopeless situation for them, but many have to look really hard to find those traces of hope.
The Salvation Army attempts to orient them to find it. Sharing with them, doing all they can to reverse the affects that drugs, violent and severely broken homes have unleashed upon the youth there. On Thursday…I saw those signs of hope. We took the kids to a roller rink in Cerritos. The kids had fun; they didn’t have to worry about anything. They laughed; smiled, played…they were kids. All of the work, the painting, the boring hours in the fireworks stand, the five trips to Home Depot in three days, the difficult attempts at managing a couple dozen unruly kids who have little in the way of positive guidance in their lives…all of it was worth it when I saw those smiles, and saw hope.
While not quite as bad as its reputation would suggest, Compton does have a disproportionate share of problems…particularly related to violent crime and gangs. I picked up the Los Angeles Times today to read that the city’s (Compton is a separate city from Los Angeles) murder rate had drastically increased in the past year. We were visited on Friday by two Los Angeles County Sheriff Officers who explained the city’s plight, so I was not at all surprised to read it in the times…A fascinating aspect of this project is learning so much about Los Angeles, from so many different angles. Most people would be afraid to visit the areas in which we will continue to work. That is a shame, there is so much that can be learned there. I was thrilled to hear an explanation of the L.A. riots from an African-American lady who was there when it happened, and from a completely different view than I have heard every other explanation (I will likely write about this at some point).
The kids were at once frustrating and lovable. Inner City kids face so many obstacles and have so much working against them…but they are still kids…Very different kids...kids who are forced into adult situations before they are even close to ready. One of their day camp activities was writing letters to solders. Most of those letters focused on the aspect of killing…advice on what guns and bullets to use, admonishments to kill as many of their enemies as possible. Very different than the content that you would likely see from similar letters written by their peers in Austin or Tucson. The mentality they are raised in is one of, essentially, guerrilla warfare…Gangs, guns and drugs. One kid, probably less than ten years old, asked a solider if they “use the same bullets as the bad people on the street”. It is not a hopeless situation for them, but many have to look really hard to find those traces of hope.
The Salvation Army attempts to orient them to find it. Sharing with them, doing all they can to reverse the affects that drugs, violent and severely broken homes have unleashed upon the youth there. On Thursday…I saw those signs of hope. We took the kids to a roller rink in Cerritos. The kids had fun; they didn’t have to worry about anything. They laughed; smiled, played…they were kids. All of the work, the painting, the boring hours in the fireworks stand, the five trips to Home Depot in three days, the difficult attempts at managing a couple dozen unruly kids who have little in the way of positive guidance in their lives…all of it was worth it when I saw those smiles, and saw hope.
Venice Beach
6/27/05 -2
Our first day on our regular ministry schedule was a detour. The Los Angeles Mission double booked out teams and we didn’t have a site for the week, as of yet. We brainstormed and decided to go to Venice. I was concerned that this was going to be the same dry “beach reach” that I really just don’t get that excited about; however, Jen had a good idea. We threw together the idea for a board simply asking “Who do you think Jesus is?” To which people could respond with anything they wanted. It was a simple yet powerful way to get people thinking and pondering the truth. We raced to Wal-Mart (because most stores were already closed on Sunday night), got there four minutes before closing, and three minutes later we were in line with just about everything we needed.
I love Venice. I went there for the first time on Saturday and it was easily the highlight of my weekend, a sublime moment of peace before things got sticky. I was happy to go back. Many people I’ve found have an extremely narrow and negative conception of the typical member of the Venice crowd (some people on project have expressed it without realizing it). This is not unusual, particularly for suburban Christians. However, living in Austin placed me in the middle of a crowd that is very similar and certainly very “weird” but the standards of boring and normal people. I love them, even the weird ones. I love stoners, I love beach bums, I’m learning to love the homeless even though I really struggle with it, I love hippies and people with crazy ideas. I love people, simply, not all people, not yet, but I’m learning. I feel at home in Venice as much as I feel at home in Austin. Venice is to me what Santa Monica is to the suburban project members. It’s a place were I can go and relax and chill and think and be among interesting people in a fascinatingly beautiful and interesting setting.
We were back in Venice. We set up the table and despite the relative quietness of the boardwalk on a sleepy weekday, we got some good responses. We had a few good conversations, a few weird ones, admired the canvas of humanity around us, and got the chance to hand out free water to the same “bums” that I used to ollie five times while playing the Venice Beach level on Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2 when I was a few years younger and dreaming of someday traveling to Southern California.
As we packed up our stuff into the van late in the afternoon we came to a consensus that the day was certainly not a waste. We realized that we are a special group, very unified and very focused. While I had an “ideal” group in mind before the teams were selected, I am coming to realize that the truly ideal team is the one that I have been placed on. I could sense that the team shared my love for the people at Venice, and shared my desire to grow and become capable of showing even more love to those we encounter.
Returning to the house, the van inched along the 405 and then inched slightly faster on the 10. Johndon informed us that he had landed us a permanent ministry site for the remainder of the week. We will be working at the Salvation Army in Compton. This was welcome news. We had a good day but trying to improvise projects for the entire week would have been difficult. Following burritos at dinner, we drove over to the First EV Free church (a future site for our team) for our first “coffee house”…which was fun but enjoyable. The guys all put on a skit that was a funny satire of our visit to Judson Baptist the weekend previous. After returning to the house I talked to Juan and found out that I’m still short on support. Checks that I am expecting have still not arrived. It’s just something I’ll have to take care of. I was pretty mad but kept things under control and I’m not worried about it now.
Our first day on our regular ministry schedule was a detour. The Los Angeles Mission double booked out teams and we didn’t have a site for the week, as of yet. We brainstormed and decided to go to Venice. I was concerned that this was going to be the same dry “beach reach” that I really just don’t get that excited about; however, Jen had a good idea. We threw together the idea for a board simply asking “Who do you think Jesus is?” To which people could respond with anything they wanted. It was a simple yet powerful way to get people thinking and pondering the truth. We raced to Wal-Mart (because most stores were already closed on Sunday night), got there four minutes before closing, and three minutes later we were in line with just about everything we needed.
I love Venice. I went there for the first time on Saturday and it was easily the highlight of my weekend, a sublime moment of peace before things got sticky. I was happy to go back. Many people I’ve found have an extremely narrow and negative conception of the typical member of the Venice crowd (some people on project have expressed it without realizing it). This is not unusual, particularly for suburban Christians. However, living in Austin placed me in the middle of a crowd that is very similar and certainly very “weird” but the standards of boring and normal people. I love them, even the weird ones. I love stoners, I love beach bums, I’m learning to love the homeless even though I really struggle with it, I love hippies and people with crazy ideas. I love people, simply, not all people, not yet, but I’m learning. I feel at home in Venice as much as I feel at home in Austin. Venice is to me what Santa Monica is to the suburban project members. It’s a place were I can go and relax and chill and think and be among interesting people in a fascinatingly beautiful and interesting setting.
We were back in Venice. We set up the table and despite the relative quietness of the boardwalk on a sleepy weekday, we got some good responses. We had a few good conversations, a few weird ones, admired the canvas of humanity around us, and got the chance to hand out free water to the same “bums” that I used to ollie five times while playing the Venice Beach level on Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2 when I was a few years younger and dreaming of someday traveling to Southern California.
As we packed up our stuff into the van late in the afternoon we came to a consensus that the day was certainly not a waste. We realized that we are a special group, very unified and very focused. While I had an “ideal” group in mind before the teams were selected, I am coming to realize that the truly ideal team is the one that I have been placed on. I could sense that the team shared my love for the people at Venice, and shared my desire to grow and become capable of showing even more love to those we encounter.
Returning to the house, the van inched along the 405 and then inched slightly faster on the 10. Johndon informed us that he had landed us a permanent ministry site for the remainder of the week. We will be working at the Salvation Army in Compton. This was welcome news. We had a good day but trying to improvise projects for the entire week would have been difficult. Following burritos at dinner, we drove over to the First EV Free church (a future site for our team) for our first “coffee house”…which was fun but enjoyable. The guys all put on a skit that was a funny satire of our visit to Judson Baptist the weekend previous. After returning to the house I talked to Juan and found out that I’m still short on support. Checks that I am expecting have still not arrived. It’s just something I’ll have to take care of. I was pretty mad but kept things under control and I’m not worried about it now.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
The Begining of a Marathon
6/27/05
After what was easily the longest day on the project, I worked to repair any bridges that I had damaged. My progressively (regressive) negative attitude on Saturday made me a very undesirable person to be around. Mike admitted to me that he didn’t want to hang out with me if that was going to continue to be the case. I was somewhat depressed by this but it made me realize (something that I was beginning to be aware of) is the cause of conflict and frustration in my case is usually internal and something that I have to deal with myself. I was ready (and had already been) to start pointing fingers and blaming everyone else on the project (including Mike, unjustifiably so) for me feeling slighted and not respected. Perhaps the problem has not been others, but my own pride…and arrogance…which was a label I was starting to attach to others in my mind. God I suck still in a lot of areas and as much as I want to be a likeable person (and I believe that I generally am) I still have some areas to strive for…of course I am not seeking for the praises of men…well, I am, but that should not be my goal. My goal should be working for the glory of the God and Savior that has completely and comprehensively transformed my life. But I often feel unmotivated and lazy spiritually…I often feel dead and lifeless. I won’t get into the details of Saturday (driving around L.A. with Mike, Crystal, and until I needed to take her home because she was feeling really bad, Jacklyn) and the Staff Hunt debacle. I will just admit that my attitude was a rapid downward spiral. Mike doesn’t really know me, the rest of the guys don’t know me yet either, what am I to expect them to think of me if I act so childish. Even if I can find and pick out flaws in them, that does not validate my behavior. Sunday ended a very intense and comprehensive orientation week. Now we were on our way to our respective ministry sites.
After what was easily the longest day on the project, I worked to repair any bridges that I had damaged. My progressively (regressive) negative attitude on Saturday made me a very undesirable person to be around. Mike admitted to me that he didn’t want to hang out with me if that was going to continue to be the case. I was somewhat depressed by this but it made me realize (something that I was beginning to be aware of) is the cause of conflict and frustration in my case is usually internal and something that I have to deal with myself. I was ready (and had already been) to start pointing fingers and blaming everyone else on the project (including Mike, unjustifiably so) for me feeling slighted and not respected. Perhaps the problem has not been others, but my own pride…and arrogance…which was a label I was starting to attach to others in my mind. God I suck still in a lot of areas and as much as I want to be a likeable person (and I believe that I generally am) I still have some areas to strive for…of course I am not seeking for the praises of men…well, I am, but that should not be my goal. My goal should be working for the glory of the God and Savior that has completely and comprehensively transformed my life. But I often feel unmotivated and lazy spiritually…I often feel dead and lifeless. I won’t get into the details of Saturday (driving around L.A. with Mike, Crystal, and until I needed to take her home because she was feeling really bad, Jacklyn) and the Staff Hunt debacle. I will just admit that my attitude was a rapid downward spiral. Mike doesn’t really know me, the rest of the guys don’t know me yet either, what am I to expect them to think of me if I act so childish. Even if I can find and pick out flaws in them, that does not validate my behavior. Sunday ended a very intense and comprehensive orientation week. Now we were on our way to our respective ministry sites.
Monday, July 18, 2005
Riding in the Big Bus
The bus pulled up at eleven, a tour bus. The staff team chartered it to take us around Central Los Angeles to the various ministry sites. I felt awkward, as did many people on the team, as we rolled into East L.A. in such a magnificent vehicle, as if by our overall whiteness we did not stand out enough. Lunch was served at the first street market: enchiladas, rice, beans, chips and salsa…the usual fare. We were welcomed and entertained by a two man musical group and a host…who spoke mostly in Spanish but engaged us nonetheless. I was able to decipher a good deal of what he was saying; however, I did not have the confidence to respond.
Our next stop was across downtown at the First Evangelical Free Church in the Pico/Union neighborhood. Scott, who works at the church, gave us a tour of the neighborhood. I again felt very conspicuous as twenty-eight students and a half dozen or so staff plugged down the narrow sidewalks of the mostly Latino immigrant neighborhood. Scott told stories that were fascinating. He mentioned that the zip code that we were standing in (which happens to be the same one we live in) has the densest population of any American zip code outside of New York City. It is hard to guess that from its appearance. The reason is many immigrants crowd into what in most places are considered single family homes. Large families share a single room so that they can afford L.A.’s high rent. Many are just trying to get on their feet in a new land and a majority of them came to the States from Central America, not Mexico as most would assume. Scott mentioned many of the things I learned in my Geography classes…people in the neighborhood pay more for basic goods than their suburban contemporaries…despite having far less disposable income. Many illegal immigrants work at or below minimum wage (an injustice that employers can get away with because if they report it to the Government then their illegal status will be found out). Scott took us around the back of a building to see one of the most famous murals in Los Angeles. The city is covered in amazing murals. This one featured depictions, mostly from a catholic point of view, of the life, death and resurrection of Christ. It was painted about fifteen years ago as a symbol of hope to a neighborhood dying amid the stench of escalating gang warfare. Written across the top of the mural are the names of victims of gang violence from that time.
The first name along the top of the mural was “Nite-Owl”. This, Scott said, was
the brother of a man he befriended named Hector. When Hector was a teenager he heard gunshots and ran out of the house to see his brother dead from those shots.
The bus then took us back downtown. We toured the Los Angeles Mission, a fantastic facility serving the homeless in the heart of Skid Row, a concentration of homeless that is the largest such population in the United States. We walked down the street to the S.A.Y. Yes center, which serves the forgotten homeless children in the area. The bus later took us away from downtown to the Here’s Life Inner City office, ending with a surreal meal and blessing from the leadership at Hope Community Temple in South Central.
After returning to the house I felt like going to sleep but thought better of it and decided to escort five of the awesome girls on the project to a nearby coffee shop. I was able to call and talk to Roommate Mike about at least a small fraction of what I’ve experienced in the past week. I talked to Crystal for a long time after we got back. We had a great conversation and I burned the first MewithoutYou album and gave it to her (she likes them as well but only has the new one) I also loaned her Blue Like Jazz. Now, I am ready to crash because Michael, Crystal, Jacklyn and I are going to make the most of a very important free day tomorrow.
Our next stop was across downtown at the First Evangelical Free Church in the Pico/Union neighborhood. Scott, who works at the church, gave us a tour of the neighborhood. I again felt very conspicuous as twenty-eight students and a half dozen or so staff plugged down the narrow sidewalks of the mostly Latino immigrant neighborhood. Scott told stories that were fascinating. He mentioned that the zip code that we were standing in (which happens to be the same one we live in) has the densest population of any American zip code outside of New York City. It is hard to guess that from its appearance. The reason is many immigrants crowd into what in most places are considered single family homes. Large families share a single room so that they can afford L.A.’s high rent. Many are just trying to get on their feet in a new land and a majority of them came to the States from Central America, not Mexico as most would assume. Scott mentioned many of the things I learned in my Geography classes…people in the neighborhood pay more for basic goods than their suburban contemporaries…despite having far less disposable income. Many illegal immigrants work at or below minimum wage (an injustice that employers can get away with because if they report it to the Government then their illegal status will be found out). Scott took us around the back of a building to see one of the most famous murals in Los Angeles. The city is covered in amazing murals. This one featured depictions, mostly from a catholic point of view, of the life, death and resurrection of Christ. It was painted about fifteen years ago as a symbol of hope to a neighborhood dying amid the stench of escalating gang warfare. Written across the top of the mural are the names of victims of gang violence from that time.
The first name along the top of the mural was “Nite-Owl”. This, Scott said, was
the brother of a man he befriended named Hector. When Hector was a teenager he heard gunshots and ran out of the house to see his brother dead from those shots.
The bus then took us back downtown. We toured the Los Angeles Mission, a fantastic facility serving the homeless in the heart of Skid Row, a concentration of homeless that is the largest such population in the United States. We walked down the street to the S.A.Y. Yes center, which serves the forgotten homeless children in the area. The bus later took us away from downtown to the Here’s Life Inner City office, ending with a surreal meal and blessing from the leadership at Hope Community Temple in South Central.
After returning to the house I felt like going to sleep but thought better of it and decided to escort five of the awesome girls on the project to a nearby coffee shop. I was able to call and talk to Roommate Mike about at least a small fraction of what I’ve experienced in the past week. I talked to Crystal for a long time after we got back. We had a great conversation and I burned the first MewithoutYou album and gave it to her (she likes them as well but only has the new one) I also loaned her Blue Like Jazz. Now, I am ready to crash because Michael, Crystal, Jacklyn and I are going to make the most of a very important free day tomorrow.
Touring in the Big Bus
The bus pulled up at eleven, a tour bus. The staff team chartered it to take us around Central Los Angeles to the various ministry sites. I felt awkward, as did many people on the team, as we rolled into East L.A. in such a magnificent vehicle, as if by our overall whiteness we did not stand out enough. Lunch was served at the first street market: enchiladas, rice, beans, chips and salsa…the usual fare. We were welcomed and entertained by a two man musical group and a host…who spoke mostly in Spanish but engaged us nonetheless. I was able to decipher a good deal of what he was saying; however, I did not have the confidence to respond.
Our next stop was across downtown at the First Evangelical Free Church in the Pico/Union neighborhood. Scott, who works at the church, gave us a tour of the neighborhood. I again felt very conspicuous as twenty-eight students and a half dozen or so staff plugged down the narrow sidewalks of the mostly Latino immigrant neighborhood. Scott told stories that were fascinating. He mentioned that the zip code that we were standing in (which happens to be the same one we live in) has the densest population of any American zip code outside of New York City. It is hard to guess that from its appearance. The reason is many immigrants crowd into what in most places are considered single family homes. Large families share a single room so that they can afford L.A.’s high rent. Many are just trying to get on their feet in a new land and a majority of them came to the States from Central America, not Mexico as most would assume. Scott mentioned many of the things I learned in my Geography classes…people in the neighborhood pay more for basic goods than their suburban contemporaries…despite having far less disposable income. Many illegal immigrants work at or below minimum wage (an injustice that employers can get away with because if they report it to the Government then their illegal status will be found out). Scott took us around the back of a building to see one of the most famous murals in Los Angeles. The city is covered in amazing murals. This one featured depictions, mostly from a catholic point of view, of the life, death and resurrection of Christ. It was painted about fifteen years ago as a symbol of hope to a neighborhood dying amid the stench of escalating gang warfare. Written across the top of the mural are the names of victims of gang violence from that time.
The first name along the top of the mural was “Nite-Owl”. This, Scott said, was
the brother of a man he befriended named Hector. When Hector was a teenager he heard gunshots and ran out of the house to see his brother dead from those shots.
The bus then took us back downtown. We toured the Los Angeles Mission, a fantastic facility serving the homeless in the heart of Skid Row, a concentration of homeless that is the largest such population in the United States. We walked down the street to the S.A.Y. Yes center, which serves the forgotten homeless children in the area. The bus later took us away from downtown to the Here’s Life Inner City office, ending with a surreal meal and blessing from the leadership at Hope Community Temple in South Central.
After returning to the house I felt like going to sleep but thought better of it and decided to escort five of the awesome girls on the project to a nearby coffee shop. I was able to call and talk to Roommate Mike about at least a small fraction of what I’ve experienced in the past week. I talked to Crystal for a long time after we got back. We had a great conversation and I burned the first MewithoutYou album and gave it to her (she likes them as well but only has the new one) I also loaned her Blue Like Jazz. Now, I am ready to crash because Michael, Crystal, Jacklyn and I are going to make the most of a very important free day tomorrow.
Our next stop was across downtown at the First Evangelical Free Church in the Pico/Union neighborhood. Scott, who works at the church, gave us a tour of the neighborhood. I again felt very conspicuous as twenty-eight students and a half dozen or so staff plugged down the narrow sidewalks of the mostly Latino immigrant neighborhood. Scott told stories that were fascinating. He mentioned that the zip code that we were standing in (which happens to be the same one we live in) has the densest population of any American zip code outside of New York City. It is hard to guess that from its appearance. The reason is many immigrants crowd into what in most places are considered single family homes. Large families share a single room so that they can afford L.A.’s high rent. Many are just trying to get on their feet in a new land and a majority of them came to the States from Central America, not Mexico as most would assume. Scott mentioned many of the things I learned in my Geography classes…people in the neighborhood pay more for basic goods than their suburban contemporaries…despite having far less disposable income. Many illegal immigrants work at or below minimum wage (an injustice that employers can get away with because if they report it to the Government then their illegal status will be found out). Scott took us around the back of a building to see one of the most famous murals in Los Angeles. The city is covered in amazing murals. This one featured depictions, mostly from a catholic point of view, of the life, death and resurrection of Christ. It was painted about fifteen years ago as a symbol of hope to a neighborhood dying amid the stench of escalating gang warfare. Written across the top of the mural are the names of victims of gang violence from that time.
The first name along the top of the mural was “Nite-Owl”. This, Scott said, was
the brother of a man he befriended named Hector. When Hector was a teenager he heard gunshots and ran out of the house to see his brother dead from those shots.
The bus then took us back downtown. We toured the Los Angeles Mission, a fantastic facility serving the homeless in the heart of Skid Row, a concentration of homeless that is the largest such population in the United States. We walked down the street to the S.A.Y. Yes center, which serves the forgotten homeless children in the area. The bus later took us away from downtown to the Here’s Life Inner City office, ending with a surreal meal and blessing from the leadership at Hope Community Temple in South Central.
After returning to the house I felt like going to sleep but thought better of it and decided to escort five of the awesome girls on the project to a nearby coffee shop. I was able to call and talk to Roommate Mike about at least a small fraction of what I’ve experienced in the past week. I talked to Crystal for a long time after we got back. We had a great conversation and I burned the first MewithoutYou album and gave it to her (she likes them as well but only has the new one) I also loaned her Blue Like Jazz. Now, I am ready to crash because Michael, Crystal, Jacklyn and I are going to make the most of a very important free day tomorrow.
Day 3: Intercultural Oneness and Stuff
6/18/05
Sunday was “intercultural oneness day on the project. The entire group attended a predominantly African American Church in Carson (near Long Beach). This was my first experience in that type of gathering. I had my share of pre-conceived notions concerning African-American churches. We were told by a couple of the staff to disperse ourselves around the building so Mike and I sat away from most of the group, who happened to end up all in the same area. We were warmly greeted…any ideas I had that we would be looked upon as outsiders (being a mostly white group, with a couple blacks and a few Asians) vanished as I entered.
It was fathers’ day, so a couple of ladies in the entrance were pinning roses on the jackets of all the fathers (the standard of dress was definitely nice, I felt underdressed in just a blue shirt, tie and slacks. All of the guys in our group got roses as well despite our lack of fatherhood; however, it served as a reminder to call my dad later in the day (which I did). The service began with singing, gospel style of course. The music was very soulful and the congregation was engaged in a very spiritual way. I particularly appreciated the drummer’s style and his creative fills.
The service was long, the sermon even longer. The pastor preached with authority and everyone was attentive. A large part of his sermon focused on physical wellness, a reflection of the social responsibility felt within the church.
Lunch at Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles in Long Beach included what you would expect, which is, what most people would not expect. Chicken and waffles on the same plate. Though I’m not a traditionalist, at least going by the traditional definition, I opted for just the chicken, in burger form. It was good stuff and since the project was paying I didn’t mind the price, whatever it was.
We loaded into the vans and drove back up the 110 to the house. A two hour long discussion on the events of the day, the previous night’s movie, and race relations in general ensued shortly after our arrival. It was an interesting discussion, probably the most involved that I have been in one, but it ended rather harmoniously despite the controversial nature of the subjects discussed in our relatively diverse group.
Sunday was “intercultural oneness day on the project. The entire group attended a predominantly African American Church in Carson (near Long Beach). This was my first experience in that type of gathering. I had my share of pre-conceived notions concerning African-American churches. We were told by a couple of the staff to disperse ourselves around the building so Mike and I sat away from most of the group, who happened to end up all in the same area. We were warmly greeted…any ideas I had that we would be looked upon as outsiders (being a mostly white group, with a couple blacks and a few Asians) vanished as I entered.
It was fathers’ day, so a couple of ladies in the entrance were pinning roses on the jackets of all the fathers (the standard of dress was definitely nice, I felt underdressed in just a blue shirt, tie and slacks. All of the guys in our group got roses as well despite our lack of fatherhood; however, it served as a reminder to call my dad later in the day (which I did). The service began with singing, gospel style of course. The music was very soulful and the congregation was engaged in a very spiritual way. I particularly appreciated the drummer’s style and his creative fills.
The service was long, the sermon even longer. The pastor preached with authority and everyone was attentive. A large part of his sermon focused on physical wellness, a reflection of the social responsibility felt within the church.
Lunch at Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles in Long Beach included what you would expect, which is, what most people would not expect. Chicken and waffles on the same plate. Though I’m not a traditionalist, at least going by the traditional definition, I opted for just the chicken, in burger form. It was good stuff and since the project was paying I didn’t mind the price, whatever it was.
We loaded into the vans and drove back up the 110 to the house. A two hour long discussion on the events of the day, the previous night’s movie, and race relations in general ensued shortly after our arrival. It was an interesting discussion, probably the most involved that I have been in one, but it ended rather harmoniously despite the controversial nature of the subjects discussed in our relatively diverse group.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Day 2: Watts
I was apprehensive upon waking for my second full day on project. An “outreach” was planned in the South Central Los Angeles neighborhood known as Watts, one of the toughest and most feared areas in L.A.
We left for Watts in the vans. I was unsure of what to expect, all I knew was the notorious nature of the neighborhood. I was a little apprehensive, but far from scared. I had a strange peaceful sensation about the day ahead. A group known as Athletes In Action was putting on a sports camp for kinds in the troubled Nickerson Gardens housing project. We arrived at the neighborhood to the sight of a typical inner city scene with looks of discontent, or determination, on the faces people who glanced our way. We unpacked the vans after parking at the humble (but not hopeless) looking projects. I moved around to different areas, trying to find things to do. The Athletes in Action arrived a little later than expected so things started slowly.
The children, and some adults, mostly African-American with the occasional member of a Hispanic group, began to trickle into the modest park that stands in the middle of the project. The children appear innocent enough when you observe them, just like other kids. Only by talking to them would you learn the difficulties that the neighborhood presents them.
After a slow hour passed a few project members and I were sent around the immediate neighborhood to tell people about the gathering in the park. We were warned however, to avoid the surrounding streets. In my naivety I wondered how bad they could actually be. Walking by the playground, the three girls accompanying my reluctant steps found a little Latina girl, who couldn’t have been older than three or four, who had lost herself in the playground. They were determined to take her back home so I followed. Her home was within sight of the park so I was not overly concerned. The four of us had an interesting conversation with her father, a Hispanic man, probably around 30 years of age.
He told us stories of the neighborhood, warning us that we shouldn’t be there. We were “good people” after all. Of course his concern was valid. He had been shot at the previous night. He watched a man get mugged out in the street; a few days before, a couple of likely gang members had fired at an L.A.P.D. officer as he drove by. He showed us stab wounds on his face that evidenced his troubles. The “eggheads”, he said, were out to get him. “They haven’t messed with you yet?” he asked with amazement, “they always mess with me man”. Such a fear and hatred exists in L.A. between Hispanics and Blacks for reasons which I will explain later. After twenty minutes of fascinating and mildly disturbing conversation with him, we departed and returned to the psychological safety of the park area where the camp was now in full effect and friendly faces marked the landscape.
I found my place with the kids. Mike and I began a sandlot soccer game with the more outgoing ones. My favorite was a sharp 10 year old named James. He has so much potential that is going to be difficult to realize in his surroundings. Another very lovable kid wanted a scorpion on his face at the face painting table…it turns out that is the name of the gang that both his dad and his uncle are involved in. Gang culture permeates Watts, and the kids there are exposed to it at an early age. They are children forced to play adults in a challenging world. The neighborhood seeks to rob them of their childhood and the innocence that is supposed to accompany it.
A few tiring hours later they broke down the camp. Mike, Ryan and I said goodbye to the kids that we had befriended and attempted to show genuine love to. As we left, a marching band was preparing to enter the park gym as a part of a banquet. It was fascinating to see how hard some in the neighborhood were trying to salvage what little they could in their broken community. I left deep in thought. The day had affected me; however, the affect was a positive one. I left happy that I was able to, for a few short hours; spend time with these kids who are caught in the crossfire of a situation that leaves them with great disadvantages.
We returned to the project house for the usual 6 o’clock dinner. The staff had purchased tickets for all who wanted to go see the movie Crash. It is a film that is extremely important. It takes the complex problems of race relations in Los Angeles and somehow condenses it in a remarkably comprehensive fashion into a two hour film. Essentially, the film moves past actions and acts out what many feel and think about the other cultures and ethnicities around them. An amazing film that I definitely recommend…I will write a more thorough review at a later time.
We left for Watts in the vans. I was unsure of what to expect, all I knew was the notorious nature of the neighborhood. I was a little apprehensive, but far from scared. I had a strange peaceful sensation about the day ahead. A group known as Athletes In Action was putting on a sports camp for kinds in the troubled Nickerson Gardens housing project. We arrived at the neighborhood to the sight of a typical inner city scene with looks of discontent, or determination, on the faces people who glanced our way. We unpacked the vans after parking at the humble (but not hopeless) looking projects. I moved around to different areas, trying to find things to do. The Athletes in Action arrived a little later than expected so things started slowly.
The children, and some adults, mostly African-American with the occasional member of a Hispanic group, began to trickle into the modest park that stands in the middle of the project. The children appear innocent enough when you observe them, just like other kids. Only by talking to them would you learn the difficulties that the neighborhood presents them.
After a slow hour passed a few project members and I were sent around the immediate neighborhood to tell people about the gathering in the park. We were warned however, to avoid the surrounding streets. In my naivety I wondered how bad they could actually be. Walking by the playground, the three girls accompanying my reluctant steps found a little Latina girl, who couldn’t have been older than three or four, who had lost herself in the playground. They were determined to take her back home so I followed. Her home was within sight of the park so I was not overly concerned. The four of us had an interesting conversation with her father, a Hispanic man, probably around 30 years of age.
He told us stories of the neighborhood, warning us that we shouldn’t be there. We were “good people” after all. Of course his concern was valid. He had been shot at the previous night. He watched a man get mugged out in the street; a few days before, a couple of likely gang members had fired at an L.A.P.D. officer as he drove by. He showed us stab wounds on his face that evidenced his troubles. The “eggheads”, he said, were out to get him. “They haven’t messed with you yet?” he asked with amazement, “they always mess with me man”. Such a fear and hatred exists in L.A. between Hispanics and Blacks for reasons which I will explain later. After twenty minutes of fascinating and mildly disturbing conversation with him, we departed and returned to the psychological safety of the park area where the camp was now in full effect and friendly faces marked the landscape.
I found my place with the kids. Mike and I began a sandlot soccer game with the more outgoing ones. My favorite was a sharp 10 year old named James. He has so much potential that is going to be difficult to realize in his surroundings. Another very lovable kid wanted a scorpion on his face at the face painting table…it turns out that is the name of the gang that both his dad and his uncle are involved in. Gang culture permeates Watts, and the kids there are exposed to it at an early age. They are children forced to play adults in a challenging world. The neighborhood seeks to rob them of their childhood and the innocence that is supposed to accompany it.
A few tiring hours later they broke down the camp. Mike, Ryan and I said goodbye to the kids that we had befriended and attempted to show genuine love to. As we left, a marching band was preparing to enter the park gym as a part of a banquet. It was fascinating to see how hard some in the neighborhood were trying to salvage what little they could in their broken community. I left deep in thought. The day had affected me; however, the affect was a positive one. I left happy that I was able to, for a few short hours; spend time with these kids who are caught in the crossfire of a situation that leaves them with great disadvantages.
We returned to the project house for the usual 6 o’clock dinner. The staff had purchased tickets for all who wanted to go see the movie Crash. It is a film that is extremely important. It takes the complex problems of race relations in Los Angeles and somehow condenses it in a remarkably comprehensive fashion into a two hour film. Essentially, the film moves past actions and acts out what many feel and think about the other cultures and ethnicities around them. An amazing film that I definitely recommend…I will write a more thorough review at a later time.
Day 1: An Evening in Santa Monica
6/17/05
After the long day my friend Mike and I still wanted to see more of the city (he had never been and in two trips I still had much to see). Both of us decided to take. We drove off toward Santa Monica.
The day was long; however, Mike and I were restless and eager to see more of the city. A couple of girls came along and we took my car out to Santa Monica. It is a beautiful and quaint enclave in the massive urban area. I resigned myself to parking several blocks from the beach (I hate paying for parking) and we walked toward the pier. The twilight view that greeted us at Ocean Avenue was unreal in its beauty the buildings, homes, and the fairy tail-like mini amusement park out on the pier combined to create a setting that could only be rendered by a master artist.
We conversed along the shore, but often the words were interrupted by silent stares and moments taken to ponder the wonder before us. At least that is how I felt, Mike too probably, the girls, Erin and…unfortunately I’m bad with their names…spent most of their time on the phone but that was up to them. We turned to walk out onto the pier. I felt a sense of wonder as I gazed up the shoreline to where the Ocean took a great turn to the west and a distant member of the Santa Monica Mountains hid the sun as it raced away from the California Coast.
A cool darkness had wrapped around the pier. We walked back toward the city, leaving the pier behind. We walked though the Promenade. Saw a couple of shops (there isn’t anything there that I can’t see in Austin so I wasn’t overly thrilled). An oddly placed belly dancer performed in front of Urban Outfitters where Mike found an amazing retro-esque pink and green shirt while the girls joined millions others by supporting Starbucks’ pervasive corporate domination of the legal addictive stimulant market.
We reached the car and took off down Santa Monica Boulevard, which, of course, meant that I had to fight a certain annoying but catchy hit mid-90’s song from getting stuck in my head while making lame comments related to it. After what had to be 30 traffic lights we reached the heart of Hollywood. I found my way onto Sunset using the 101 (getting on and off Los Angeles Freeways is unreasonably complicated, every ramp is different) in search of an In N Out Burger. We found it. Mike got a combo, I got a shake and fries, and the girls missed out by getting nothing. I love In N Out…great food but not expensive, and additionally they are a family owned non-franchise company that donates generally to charities and missions in the L.A. area. Well satisfied we drove back home down the 101 though heavy traffic and the clock approached midnight (something I’m learning not to be surprised about is midnight traffic jams)…ending one of the most eventful, fascinating and fun days of my life.
After the long day my friend Mike and I still wanted to see more of the city (he had never been and in two trips I still had much to see). Both of us decided to take. We drove off toward Santa Monica.
The day was long; however, Mike and I were restless and eager to see more of the city. A couple of girls came along and we took my car out to Santa Monica. It is a beautiful and quaint enclave in the massive urban area. I resigned myself to parking several blocks from the beach (I hate paying for parking) and we walked toward the pier. The twilight view that greeted us at Ocean Avenue was unreal in its beauty the buildings, homes, and the fairy tail-like mini amusement park out on the pier combined to create a setting that could only be rendered by a master artist.
We conversed along the shore, but often the words were interrupted by silent stares and moments taken to ponder the wonder before us. At least that is how I felt, Mike too probably, the girls, Erin and…unfortunately I’m bad with their names…spent most of their time on the phone but that was up to them. We turned to walk out onto the pier. I felt a sense of wonder as I gazed up the shoreline to where the Ocean took a great turn to the west and a distant member of the Santa Monica Mountains hid the sun as it raced away from the California Coast.
A cool darkness had wrapped around the pier. We walked back toward the city, leaving the pier behind. We walked though the Promenade. Saw a couple of shops (there isn’t anything there that I can’t see in Austin so I wasn’t overly thrilled). An oddly placed belly dancer performed in front of Urban Outfitters where Mike found an amazing retro-esque pink and green shirt while the girls joined millions others by supporting Starbucks’ pervasive corporate domination of the legal addictive stimulant market.
We reached the car and took off down Santa Monica Boulevard, which, of course, meant that I had to fight a certain annoying but catchy hit mid-90’s song from getting stuck in my head while making lame comments related to it. After what had to be 30 traffic lights we reached the heart of Hollywood. I found my way onto Sunset using the 101 (getting on and off Los Angeles Freeways is unreasonably complicated, every ramp is different) in search of an In N Out Burger. We found it. Mike got a combo, I got a shake and fries, and the girls missed out by getting nothing. I love In N Out…great food but not expensive, and additionally they are a family owned non-franchise company that donates generally to charities and missions in the L.A. area. Well satisfied we drove back home down the 101 though heavy traffic and the clock approached midnight (something I’m learning not to be surprised about is midnight traffic jams)…ending one of the most eventful, fascinating and fun days of my life.
Day 1: The Urban Hike
The drive to Los Angeles from Austin was interesting enough, but nothing to speak of compared to my experences in my first week of the city. The project staff took us on a six hour walk around downtown L.A:
In six hours of walking I learned more and experienced more than my often vibrant imagination could have anticipated.
How could I have known the incredible quantity of amazing and fascinating things, persons, ideas, streets and hallmarks of humanity (for better or worse) that lies in an area bounded by blue lines on a map, numbered 5,10 and 110.
My excursion, which began with an attitude of curiosity that would soon turn to sheer wonder, began with 6 other project members near the heart of L.A. “June Gloom” would cover the city with a thick deck of cooling grey clouds for a few hours yet. First crossing Cesar Chavez Ave. which gave a brief glimpse of home in Austin where that name also adorns the signs along a major street.
We walked past Union Station. I had been there before on my previous visit to the City of Angels…which found me hurrying across though it’s surprisingly ornate and expansive halls, attempting to make a connection to another Metrolink train that would take me to Anaheim. I was not alone this time, a concept that brought me the little comfort that I needed to relax. We entered the oldest part of the city…a center of Hispanic culture for a larger one. With my mouth absorbing a delicious churro (Strawberry, amazing) my brain worked to soak up as much sense experience as was seemingly possible. Leaving the market, we traveled toward Chinatown. This was my first visit to downtown itself, let alone Chinatown. The name of Cesar Chavez, now written in Chinese in small beautiful symbols below the more recognizable spelling, was a subtle comment that I had walked from the metropolitan center of one culture into one that was vastly different. The shift Chinatown was a stunning visual explanation of the intense blend of cultures that is so recognizable in Los Angeles. I found it amazing that I could purchase live poultry, buy Chinese music, drink a tapioca bubble tea smoothie and smell the possibly misguided, but beautifully scented incense pouring from the doorway of a Buddhist Temple in the middle of a city more commonly associated with palm trees and lifeless names of famous people carved in golden star shapes that permeate a sidewalk.
We circled Chinatown and reentered America as most people perceive it. Government Buildings and landmarks, painfully bland by comparison, were simply concrete monoliths to be passed while important people made important decisions while trapped inside them. After a brief stop for some much needed lunch, we passed Little Tokyo. Much less colorful than Chinatown, however still a cultural center in itself. I stared at the most beautiful view of the towering skyline I could conceive. The buildings shot out of the ground accompanied by brilliantly placed trees that had been planted to supplement the view. In a few blocks that capture the sharp disparity of wealth found in Los Angeles, we descended into Skid Row. Here, the undesirable inhabitants of Downtown have been corralled for who knows what purpose. Perhaps cleaning house was the goal, you know, the kind of hurrying cleaning done before guests arrive that involves throwing objects into spare bedrooms, or better yet, dark closets. Maybe the city has rounded them up to simply disappear; a purposefully ignorant conscience has far less work to do than a conscious one. Whatever the reason, there they were on display. However, in the darkness of Skid Row; amid the vagrants and beggars, the anguished and hauntingly rhythmic cries of a man desperate for a fix and the hopeless stares along the crowded sidewalk were the shining beacons of light in the forms of large missions in the heart of the castaway neighborhood. Missions where caring people work to bring whatever measure of hope that they can to the people placed there in a slow forced migration away from the tall shiny buildings above the fray.
We left Skid Row and began to ascend into the Wholesale District, a mesmerizing display of disorganized wholesale outlets spread over many blocks. I walked deep in thought, pondering the eye opening scene on Skid Row. My mind still returns there…sometimes again hearing the cries of that man that was deprived of the one thing he believed he desperately needed. I was left pondering my role in existence, my place in this superficial society. I passed more unusual and fairly unsightly wholesale stores than I could have imagined existing. The district seemed like a giant sprawling pawn shop. A couple of locals walked along side us and made a friendly conversation as I walked and pondered the circus of human misery that seemed to have followed me, although when I looked it was out of sight, but it still felt close. Toward the top of the hill we entered a market where the sight of food from many obscure parts of the world temporarily interrupted the intensity of my thought process.
The sun returned, mirroring the clearing of my cloudy mental state as we climbed toward the heart of Downtown. The shining steel towers at the top of the here were a brilliant contrast to the mess we left a few blocks back. The walls of the Biltmore hotel, were the first ever Academy Awards were given to the talent of the Big Screen, seemed to make an argument that no economic disparity exists in Los Angeles, but failed miserably. The view from the building’s zenith disguised the humanity that exists along the nearby streets, distracting us and focusing our attention on the other monuments of capitalism and the majestic mountains beyond them.
Leaving the foreign environment of the hotel we marched down the other side of the hill, away from the towers, and though Pershing Square. There on a wall behind a fountain was inscribed a poem...The final stanza said:
…It suddenly occurred to me that there would never be another place like this city of Angels. Here the American people were erupting, like lava from a volcano; here, indeed, was a place for me a ringside seat at a circus.”
In six hours of walking I learned more and experienced more than my often vibrant imagination could have anticipated.
How could I have known the incredible quantity of amazing and fascinating things, persons, ideas, streets and hallmarks of humanity (for better or worse) that lies in an area bounded by blue lines on a map, numbered 5,10 and 110.
My excursion, which began with an attitude of curiosity that would soon turn to sheer wonder, began with 6 other project members near the heart of L.A. “June Gloom” would cover the city with a thick deck of cooling grey clouds for a few hours yet. First crossing Cesar Chavez Ave. which gave a brief glimpse of home in Austin where that name also adorns the signs along a major street.
We walked past Union Station. I had been there before on my previous visit to the City of Angels…which found me hurrying across though it’s surprisingly ornate and expansive halls, attempting to make a connection to another Metrolink train that would take me to Anaheim. I was not alone this time, a concept that brought me the little comfort that I needed to relax. We entered the oldest part of the city…a center of Hispanic culture for a larger one. With my mouth absorbing a delicious churro (Strawberry, amazing) my brain worked to soak up as much sense experience as was seemingly possible. Leaving the market, we traveled toward Chinatown. This was my first visit to downtown itself, let alone Chinatown. The name of Cesar Chavez, now written in Chinese in small beautiful symbols below the more recognizable spelling, was a subtle comment that I had walked from the metropolitan center of one culture into one that was vastly different. The shift Chinatown was a stunning visual explanation of the intense blend of cultures that is so recognizable in Los Angeles. I found it amazing that I could purchase live poultry, buy Chinese music, drink a tapioca bubble tea smoothie and smell the possibly misguided, but beautifully scented incense pouring from the doorway of a Buddhist Temple in the middle of a city more commonly associated with palm trees and lifeless names of famous people carved in golden star shapes that permeate a sidewalk.
We circled Chinatown and reentered America as most people perceive it. Government Buildings and landmarks, painfully bland by comparison, were simply concrete monoliths to be passed while important people made important decisions while trapped inside them. After a brief stop for some much needed lunch, we passed Little Tokyo. Much less colorful than Chinatown, however still a cultural center in itself. I stared at the most beautiful view of the towering skyline I could conceive. The buildings shot out of the ground accompanied by brilliantly placed trees that had been planted to supplement the view. In a few blocks that capture the sharp disparity of wealth found in Los Angeles, we descended into Skid Row. Here, the undesirable inhabitants of Downtown have been corralled for who knows what purpose. Perhaps cleaning house was the goal, you know, the kind of hurrying cleaning done before guests arrive that involves throwing objects into spare bedrooms, or better yet, dark closets. Maybe the city has rounded them up to simply disappear; a purposefully ignorant conscience has far less work to do than a conscious one. Whatever the reason, there they were on display. However, in the darkness of Skid Row; amid the vagrants and beggars, the anguished and hauntingly rhythmic cries of a man desperate for a fix and the hopeless stares along the crowded sidewalk were the shining beacons of light in the forms of large missions in the heart of the castaway neighborhood. Missions where caring people work to bring whatever measure of hope that they can to the people placed there in a slow forced migration away from the tall shiny buildings above the fray.
We left Skid Row and began to ascend into the Wholesale District, a mesmerizing display of disorganized wholesale outlets spread over many blocks. I walked deep in thought, pondering the eye opening scene on Skid Row. My mind still returns there…sometimes again hearing the cries of that man that was deprived of the one thing he believed he desperately needed. I was left pondering my role in existence, my place in this superficial society. I passed more unusual and fairly unsightly wholesale stores than I could have imagined existing. The district seemed like a giant sprawling pawn shop. A couple of locals walked along side us and made a friendly conversation as I walked and pondered the circus of human misery that seemed to have followed me, although when I looked it was out of sight, but it still felt close. Toward the top of the hill we entered a market where the sight of food from many obscure parts of the world temporarily interrupted the intensity of my thought process.
The sun returned, mirroring the clearing of my cloudy mental state as we climbed toward the heart of Downtown. The shining steel towers at the top of the here were a brilliant contrast to the mess we left a few blocks back. The walls of the Biltmore hotel, were the first ever Academy Awards were given to the talent of the Big Screen, seemed to make an argument that no economic disparity exists in Los Angeles, but failed miserably. The view from the building’s zenith disguised the humanity that exists along the nearby streets, distracting us and focusing our attention on the other monuments of capitalism and the majestic mountains beyond them.
Leaving the foreign environment of the hotel we marched down the other side of the hill, away from the towers, and though Pershing Square. There on a wall behind a fountain was inscribed a poem...The final stanza said:
…It suddenly occurred to me that there would never be another place like this city of Angels. Here the American people were erupting, like lava from a volcano; here, indeed, was a place for me a ringside seat at a circus.”
Los Angeles/The End of the Blogging Hiatus
I haven't had access to the internet on my computer until now but this past month in Los Angeles has given me so much to write about. For those of you keeping score at home I am living in Los Angeles on a Here's Life Inner City (Campus Crusade) summer project here that is working with various churches, ministries and missions in Inner City Los Angeles. This past month as easily been the most interesting of my life. I am going to be copying over most of the stuff from my personal journal so there is going to be a lot to read...read as much as you want and keep me in your prayers as you do.
The house we are living in is located near where the 10 and 110 freeways meet, 5 blocks away from the Staples Center...about two miles from the heart of downtown L.A. in a really cool neighborhood where the downtown skyline towers in the background.
- Jordan
The house we are living in is located near where the 10 and 110 freeways meet, 5 blocks away from the Staples Center...about two miles from the heart of downtown L.A. in a really cool neighborhood where the downtown skyline towers in the background.
- Jordan
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