Uffizi Mission Project

Been wondering if there is an urgency here?  That word may be overused.  Where and when does it fit?  Are not all times urgent in some way or another?

Seems like I live in an every day urgency when it comes to the West Side or with Friends on the Streets.

The latest was a few gatherings surrounding the recent deaths of friends on the streets and the coming winter.

We had 45 pass on the streets in the past 15 months.  As winter approaches, we have a slight increase in the mentally ill we are finding on the streets.  Last winter we had a good friend die because of the cold.  So, what does this winter hold?

Also, there is an organization we recently discovered who have a good track record of getting the chronic off the streets – when a city wide coalition can be formed…

A city wide coalition?  Part of me says, “Good Luck with that,” and another part has already committed to making it so.  I am committed to making it so…

We were at a meeting recently with about 15 experts – people who help friends on the streets in various ways.  They know what they are doing and they are good friends.  Four of us who represent Uffizi are just “friend makers/meal sharers.”  I think we are committed to raising up volunteers for this new program to get the most chronic off the streets.

Can Jesus bust us into housing?  I believe He can heal, bring eternal life, give living water – but can he give us some low income housing keys?  When it comes down to it, we need some keys!

So, here we go on another twist and adventure.  Is it urgent?  Well, you can know this – I am going to be bugging you about it

This post is a slice of life at the Village as written by Mariah, who spent her summer in Apt 55 here at the Village.

“This summer has been a culmination of themes I have been exploring for the last 2 years, namely – how life is and can be mission. This summer, I have a room that can be a sanctuary and place of rest, or can be a place where I try to run from myself and God. It is a raw space, filled with longing and tears, as well as gentle caresses and truthful whispers from my God. Our kitchen and family room are a hospitable space, where children shmear  Fire Hot Cheetos on the couches and where drifting college students come to rest.
As soon as I step out the front door, the world hits me, as a spray of water from a small boy’s gun. There is a secure, friendly spirit in the air. After walking past beautiful banana trees and an already vibrating pool of children,  I come to ‘the gate.’

Beyond ‘the gate,’ I am never sure what to expect, so I pray for God’s guardianship and sence where I should step next. The apartments on the corner have become a familiar place.  I step in and see…I can’t remember his name…step back into the shadows and a girl comes running to hug me. Her cousins peer curiously from behind a curtain, and the boy across the courtyard comes out in his swim shorts,  gathering courage to step into the pool again. Perhaps the girl’s mother is in her sister’s apartment (whose name is distinct enough that I still don’t know it after hearing her say it 3 times. Oh well. Maybe the 4th time?) As I move to the back, three sisters have returned from Sacramento with their cousins! A boy swings from a pole-and-rope-swing while his sisters play on the other swing and the littlest brother sits and claps. We create a dust cloud by playing tag around the tree. Their mother smiles from the open window, and maybe comes out to join in the laughter. Another door has prices for ‘Paletas,’ (popsicles) set up as the local snack shop, competing with the bell-ringing push carts overflowing with corn and mangos (mangos and chili? really?) The cousins here may enthusiastically come to the pool, or her mother may smile and say, “La proxima vez” (Literally, ‘Next time,’ which is also the polite latino way of saying ‘no’).

Forty-five minutes later, when we finally reach the pool, we are met by smiling wet children, all wanting attention. As the summer progresses, we know more of their names and what their lives are like. They know that we care about them. As they learn to swim, the splashing moves from being huddled around the stairs, to being spread throughout the entire pool. We are all sad to see this beautiful Thursday pool day end as we begin school again. However, the relationships that have been started have the potential to continue for years to come.”

I am sitting in a local coffee shop in Buellton, listening to the soundtrack of “Eyes Wide Shut,” when I realized that is our problem.  I had to write about it with the few minutes remaining before I head into Santa Barbara.

We look but we don’t really see.  We die because of lack of vision.  Perhaps it is better said that we let others die because of our lack of vision.

We can’t seem to buckle down and pay the price.  We can’t give our lives away.

I was musing over my inability to motivate toward the cause.  I am a waste of three years of public speaking experience.  Yes, I did three years of public speaking in high school.  (I got out of a lot of math to do it)  But my results are not so good.  When I speak, seems that no one wants to hear more after.  It is either my speaking or the content of my speech.  I keep making the mistake of asking for too much too quickly.  I want people to come out and see what I see, but more than that, do something about it.

I keep getting introduced as a missionary when I want to see a missional church.  But mission does not sum it up well, because it is a loaded and attractive and unattractive term at the same time.  The agenda of God seems to be love – I can’t get away from that.

Our eyes are wide shut.  Wide open eyes will inquire about new paradigms and solutions – and a radical shift from a passive to aggressive love.  Empty buildings but full on the streets.  It will be the strange parties Jesus describes – a freak show centered around a strange juice.  I see colors coming to visit black and white.

I suddenly got a bit depressed… opening eyes are the healing balm.

There is a song that says something like this, “I’m not sick, but I’m not that well,” or something like that – I think that describes the tension of my life, the life of our community – or maybe just life on earth.

I think it is a tension that we most often try to escape – thus our culture is based primarily upon escape and consumerism and safety.  It has been something of discussion within our Shalom community, and those I walk with almost on a daily basis up and down the West Side.

It can be captured in my Wednesday.

I met with one friend who I have known since the beginning of Pershing Park.  There were about four of us, and about four on the streets who started talking over spaghetti.  He and I became friends right away.  We connected though our worlds were quite different.  Since then we have walked together as he moved through detox, sober living, relapse, back into detox, sober living…. and now he has found full time work, and is headed to housing.  We had lunch with his co-workers and he expressed how he is at the best point in life ever, that he has dignity and hope for the future.  He is working for a wonderful farming community and they are a tremendous support for him.

Then later that night, at Pershing Park, I learned that our good friend, The Professor, was on life support.  He lived out in Isla Vista, but journeyed to Pershing often with friends.  He was close friends with some of our team at Pershing Park.  He passed away on Thursday, and we are hit with the suddenness of such a loss.  We get used to it, but it is never easy.  He was a wonderful soft spoken, funny man.  He did have several degrees (thus The Professor name),  but for some understandable reasons ended up on the street.

Tension.

I am learning more and more about the continual tension I am living in, and that I am inviting others into.

We are used to the sitcom way of life – where there may be a problem presented, but it is eased by laughter and usually comes to a quick resolution.  Our institutions often serve to protect us from an outer reality.  Phrases such as “The family that prays together, stays together.”  The problem is, I personally know of several families who prayed together that are no longer together.

Life is no sitcom.  It may be a sittracom (situation tragedy comedy) instead – which brings us back to tension.

One guarantee for everyone wanting to be incarnational, you will encounter life as sittracom.  You will have joys centered in the midst of human suffering and tragedy.  You are guaranteed to live in tension for the rest of your life.  Will you commit to that?

We talked about this in our shalom community, and as I talk with all the Westmont leaders and Westmont grads who are in this – there is agreement that we are all living in this.  I am talking with them about not pushing the eject button too early, but remaining in it.

What makes the tension worth it – the little things.

The other day two girls from the Carrillo Apartments came over to talk about camp.  I was able to show them our new library.  Patty Wilson sat down with them and told them that they could come over and check out books any time.  They spent about a half hour with us – I know the Village is a safe place for them where they know they are loved.  That one half hour is worth a week of tension.

I am neither fully sick or healthy.  I am getting used that personal reality, and that it is the history of humanity on earth.  How deep will I go into it?  Will I myself remain in the mess?

I almost don’t want to write this, but I don’t know where I am going with it today…

I am borderline with mixed emotions and motivations.  Depressingly prophetic… wondering is it time really for the capital P “prophetic” that everyone warns me not to be, that I don’t myself want to be.  I did not choose this job – would rather myself sometimes be going to Maui or something like that.  It chose me (I submit myself to God in this)

Yet I do love it too.  Because I love my friends on the streets.

That is why I am borderline – love/hate 24/7.  I guess that is really no way to live – except that I see that it seems to be historically true of the prophetic spirit.  They live to die to live again.  The weight they carry is really societies ultimate freedom.

But let’s get ourselves educated here.

There are young people on the streets who have never been properly parented and loved.  And so God says to His people – care for the widows and the orphans.  That is true spirituality, proof of your proximity to me.  Why are there so many orphans that are invisible to us?  I talked with some last night – who want to get off the streets, but need a plan and a community to help them get there.

And there are the elderly – talked with a woman last night who has lost the proof of her identity and is now living in a car.  She is a soft spoken woman, a bit dazed and confused by her current situation.  She needs $380 to get her naturalization papers, which will lead to her being able to get food stamps, etc… in motion forward here.

I went out for the first time with a clip board to Pershing Park last night, to take notes on peoples’ stories so we could follow up step by step.  Part of me said don’t do this, but then you have some responsibility here.  But I do it because I recognize the many gaps in the system… there are places for people to go, but often times they don’t know where that next step is, or they don’t quite fit with the system (pregnant couples who have dogs for example – it is complex)

I came away with 4 stories to follow up on and pester all of you about.  I apologize ahead of time – perhaps God will just have to fire me.

And then this morning I got up early to go to coffee with some friends – usually very casual.  But God has other plans – we end up talking with new young friends who are or have been homeless, same story of dysfunctional family structures, now in need of help.  Come on!  It’s 6am in the morning God – and I already have a clipboard full.  Love/hate 24/7  Because by missional synchronicity God puts me in these places at “kairos” moments.

Well, perhaps, just at the right time – we are waking up to the calling toward widows and orphans and aliens and sojourners.  This summer is full of new risk takers coming on board to be in the real life of the city.  I see that churches are housing these brave new world men and women.  I see more churches are organizations and grass root friends coming to be with and potentially step up to empower the poor.

Will it be in time?  Will it be enough?  I am not sure really – but I will stick with my life of love/hate 24/7.  And as awkward and wrong as it sounds, I invite you in to the same life.

Iron Man 2 is about the come out – don’t go see it – become super hero advocate yourself and do away with fantasy worlds.  This coming from an avid comic book collector in my JH days – but time to put away childish things.

I realized today the power of an advocate.  My street friends called me a super-hero – I told them I was just their friend.  What I recognize is the real need for middle to upper class advocates.  People don’t often to listen to friends on the streets – and sometimes they get turned away from agencies that can actually help them – until they get an advocate.

I see now that with all that someone on the streets has to deal with (how to find work, where to sleep, how to find food, how to get clean clothes, where to do laundry, where is a shower, how do I protect myself at night, how do I get a sleeping bag, who can help my pet dog, how do I protect my belongings, etc…), it is difficult to go back to the same place more than once when you have a huge need.  You were turned down once, so you can’t get in.

Well, I can make phone calls, find web sites, pester people until I find the right person to talk to… and that is simply what an advocate does.

And I wonder about us Jesus followers, who have this advocate – Jesus…. who advocates before the Father on our behalf consistently.  He set Himself right in the midst of our dilemma and made the way for us to find shelter in God.  So, how do we step up and learn the super advocate business.

Well, tell you what – hit the streets.  What do you sense and feel when you find three pregnant women on the streets?  What has happened to me is just the fact that I am not “fine with this scene.”  Something is wrong, something is amiss.  It is time for a choose your own ending response – and being a part of writing a new ending for people about to give up.

My friends were literally shaking today before this meeting at this shelter.  He had to have his smokes outside.  She said she was better off – she had faith.  She still has faith she tells me.

But, days earlier, they witnessed a street friend whipped by the belt of another – and no one came to the rescue because they are street youth.  Time for Super Advocates.

So I see the future.  I see street teams of advocates who have eyes to see – first, there should be no pregnant women on the streets.  Pregnancy is difficult enough right, and we care about the unborn, the innocent.  Next, I see men and women who recognize street youth and those who have come through the foster care system, and say, “You won’t be on the streets when you are 30, 40, 50 – let’s work on this now.”  And I see more and more people working hard with prayer and relationship with those who have suffered with addictions for years upon years, who will continue to be with them through relapse until the end if needed.

There will be less people watching films like Iron Man 2, too consumed with real life super advocacy.

Summer begins a new order.  Fall brings these teams.  I believe it – I see it.

Today I panhandled on State Street for the first time with my new friends.  I met them last night, she is 4 months pregnant and they are married and on the streets.  I met them to hear their story and find out why they are on the streets and try to help them toward next steps.  He gave me his sign and said, “You try it.”  The sign said, “I’ll bet you one dollar you can read this.”  Well, I was on the other side of the sign now, and noticed how the eyes of passers by darted to the left and the right so they didn’t “owe me one dollar.”  Even though I panhandle on facebook, the feeling is not quite the same.  We laughed about it and I shared that I am a bad homeless beggar.  I didn’t make a dime.

We became friends pretty quickly over Hamburger Habit

But I asked them if I could tell you their story so I could help them and others like them, and they said “sure.”

They have been married for a few years now, and have made mistakes.  Meth is the big one.  He has done time, and she has two other kids in foster care because of some of these mistakes.  He is done with parole, they are clean now.  They want their kids back.  They are struggling to find housing as a married, pregnant family because shelter in Santa Barbara in their situation is tough.

Their lives are sometimes threatened on the streets – which means the life of a young unborn child is also being threatened.

They have been looking for work as well.  He has work Tuesdays and Thursdays, but she can’t find work as a young pregnant woman.  He has tatoos and that makes him not hirable to some…

When she talked about her kids, what has happened to her family, wanting her kids back – she cries right there on the street.  I believe in multiple chances.  I suffer to leave them today and come to work – and in my mind I see her reunited with her kids and this is all a distant memory.

We are currently working with not one, not two, but three pregnant women on the streets.  And I can tell you this, these women did not have the middle class family protection that I grew up with.  We are talking throwaways, abused, neglected, or foster cases.

When the system breaks down, when no one else cares, there is a son of man who does care… and time has come for a movement.  Time has come for answers empowered from on high, by a people formed expressly for that purpose.  Tens – Hundreds – Thousands.

And I am compelled to share these stories, love these friends, until I see it happen – or if I don’t see it happen – it will be those of you who are younger.  We are late one revolution – every forty years there is supposed to be one – the 60’s/70’s are over – the Jesus people should cause the next big wave.  Perhaps it can start right here in Santa Barbara.

“When love comes to town, I’m going to jump that train, when loves comes to town, I’m going to catch that plane…” U2

This summer the movement gets bigger – and into fall I hope we have volunteer street teams meeting these friends, connecting them to the right places, and creating SHALOM SANTA BARBARA.

I hope to see them again Sunday!