So, after all that happened this past weekend at Austin Stone and Hill Country (churches that I liked and learned from but didn’t totally feel like I could serve in), I needed a different experience. After my harsh belly-flop back into teenage evangelical subculture, I needed something a little more user-friendly. Something I was more accustomed to. Something familiar and comfortable. Oh, I’ve got it: an Episcopal Eucharist-- time for some good old Book of Common Prayer. Besides, I hadn’t had communion in like a month, so I was overdue; it’s something I’d probably do weekly if I could, but that’s a topic for another post. Erin had already made the recommendation to me that I check out Lord of the Streets Episcopal Church (which she had visited and loved during a Wesley Fellowship trip to Houston), so I drove through the blazing Houston heat to the church’s 11:30 Eucharist service. I was driving down Fannin Street and looking for a church building when I noticed a predominantly black group of people standing under the overhanging roof of a small, nondescript office building. A banner on the wall confirmed it: Lord of the Streets. The website had made me think of Chapel Hill’s Inter-Faith Council for Social Service (where I interned last summer), and the building itself was nearly identical inside: standard industrial carpets, beige walls, lots of seating for people waiting to be seen-- a meeting place for people in differing socioeconomic situations with different types of hardships.
Lord of the Streets is located just across the street from Trinity Episcopal Church and began in 1990 as an outreach program of Trinity. Despite now having independent 501c3 status, Lord of the Streets still shares a strong partnership with Trinity and holds their Sunday morning Eucharist service there. Having been officially designated a “Jubilee Center” by the National Episcopal Church, Lord of the Streets emphasizes empowerment, education, outreach, and advocacy as foundational principles of their ministry. Lord of the Streets begins each weekday morning with a Bible study, after which their center opens to offer direct assistance to people on the streets, providing clothing, hygiene items, bus passes, ID/public records assistance, bagged lunches, and employment assistance. This is much of the same work we did at IFC, so Lord of the Streets already felt familiar to me before I even walked in the door. Additionally, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Lord of the Streets offers their free Caritas Health Clinic that provides resources for women’s health, family medicine, immunizations, STD screening, psychiatry, and a vision clinic. The church also offers assistance to women fleeing abusive domestic situations through their Sisters @ Heart program and general pastoral care to any who seek it.
It’s my kind of place, but before I get to the Eucharist service itself, I need to take a quick detour.
Success Stories
In looking at the Lord of the Streets website, I have to admit that I was a little relieved to see a section titled “success stories” that features a few brief descriptions of people who, with the assistance of the church and its programs, have pulled themselves back onto their feet again. I have kind of a checkered history with the term “success story,” so it actually eases my mind considerably to see it being used in this fashion.
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| Coach Gordon of Lawndale |
Before I even began this trip, I was talking with a classmate about my excitement over visiting Lawndale in Chicago. This classmate scoffed and criticized Coach Gordon for only wanting to lift up the success stories in the congregation and downplay any instances of people not overcoming their burdens. “He puts these people on a pedestal, but how is that supposed to make the people feel who are still struggling?! He lifts up the recovered crack head, but what about the guy who’s never going to overcome and still wants to hear about Jesus?! He’s just ignoring them! It’s an outrage! You know what, Tom? I’ve lived in Chicago, so why don’t I give you the names of some real churches there for you to visit?” He rattled off a few churches that he liked, and I very intentionally did not write them down or try to remember their names-- I was not going to indulge his judgmental behavior. Though there were many other influences that prompted me to write on the subject, that conversation was probably the first rumblings of my “ministerial snobbery” post a few weeks back. While I’m not the sort of person who goes off and writes a blog post just to respond to one individual, he did get me thinking, and when I saw his attitude in others, I realized that it was a larger problem that needed to be addressed. My classmate probably thought he was a David hurling stones at a Goliath; all I saw was a vandal hurling stones at a stained glass window. We’re so quick to tear each other down in the academy. Coach Gordon is a very caring man and a fixture in his community thanks to the work God has been doing through Lawndale. Even more, Coach is also the president of the Christian Community Development Association, so I don’t think he lifts up the church’s “success stories” lightly, and that certainly wasn’t my experience when I visited the church either. In fact, I saw Coach directly address the people who were still struggling, lifting them up in prayer and thanking them for their presence at the church that morning. I saw in Coach a caring pastor who was part of a ministry team that was part of a church that was part of a community, and any “success stories” were shared as a joy for that community, not just putting an individual on a pedestal.
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| Fr. River Sims, Temenos Catholic Worker |
The term became important again when I was driving around San Francisco with Fr. River Sims of Temenos Catholic Worker. I had worked in Glide’s meal service just that morning, so I was thinking very much in a more mechanistic nonprofit mindset, and I asked River if he had seen any of his flock turn it around and pull their lives together and get off of drugs and off of the streets. Apparently, I inadvertently used the phrase “success story,” and River was incensed. In fact, he was so furious with me that I started wondering if I would be walking back to my hotel from whatever street corner he kicked me out on. As angry and offended as he was, River still managed to pull it together into a teaching moment and reminded me that his was a ministry of presence. He wasn’t looking to change people, just to meet them where they were, show them that Christ loves them, and keep them from harming themselves any more than they were going to anyway. River explained that he was answering a call to go to the lost sheep, the sheep which the rest of the flock had abandoned and left to the wolves, but I have to admit that, as the story appears in Luke, River and I may have differing interpretations of the parable:
So he told them this parable: "Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.' Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.” (Luke 15:3-7)
The shepherd brings the sheep back to the flock, and the whole community rejoices. This sounds to me like a success story. If we apply the parable of the lost sheep to a situation of homelessness or substance abuse or some other hardship, then the parable tells me that it’s okay to want to help people overcome their bad circumstances and that it’s okay to celebrate when they get to a place of spiritual and emotional stability (i.e. being rescued by Christ the Shepherd and rejoining the flock). The parable tells me that God is celebrating with us in heaven, so why not celebrate it in church too? By all means, lift up a success story on Sunday morning. Point to someone who has benefited from the love of Christ being shown through the church. Let people tell the world how God made their lives a little better. Now, I think we also need to remember that Jesus (not us) is the shepherd in this parable, and it is Jesus (not us) who ultimately brings the sheep back to the fold, but that doesn’t mean we should call foul every time someone manages to overcome their situation and reach a place where they can share the love of Christ with others as well. We are called to celebrate and rejoice, so let’s do that!
All this to say: We should be seeking to form relationships with people and be a Christian presence in their lives, but I think it’s okay if we also want to help them change their circumstances. If someone does not want to be homeless, by all means, let’s get them into a transitional housing program and celebrate with them when they’re off the streets. If someone is being destroyed by addiction, let’s try to help them through that and get them off of whatever substance is controlling them. I don’t think it’s judgmental to want to alleviate suffering. I don’t think it’s judgmental to work with people and walk alongside them to a place where they can look back and say that they have succeeded. Now, we can’t just be out to create Christian Hallmark Moments, and we can’t make our relationships just about changing other people, but if people say that they want to turn their lives around, let’s give them the tools to do it and celebrate it. Roll out the red carpet! Put sandals on their feet and a ring on their finger!
We have to understand that this will not be the case with every homeless or hungry person who seeks out help from a church or nonprofit, and the vast majority probably will remain on the streets indefinitely, but that’s no reason to lose our enthusiasm for the people who find their footing again and reach a place where they can give back and help someone else learn to stand up, and that’s the spirit that I saw at Lord of the Streets, and that’s the reason that I love this particular church. From what I saw, Lord of the Streets doesn’t force people to change against their wills. It doesn’t act like a machine that puts you through a process and spits you out on the other side as a “better” person. It helps people no matter where they are in life and understands that not everyone is willing or wants to get off the streets or break an addiction or lay aside whatever is controlling them. The church is about satisfying material needs for anyone and spiritual needs for those who seek out that particular sustenance. It goes to the lost sheep and continually invites it back into the fold, celebrating right along with it while the Shepherd watches and smiles. That’s a success story, and while I know that we must be careful not to deter people who never reach that point, I’m perfectly alright with celebrating these sorts of things when they happen. We cannot ignore the importance of ministries of presence and relationship, but when someone makes a change with God’s help, it’s a big deal.
Sorry, bit of a tangent, but I feel like I needed to lay that issue to rest. Getting back to the service . . .
Eucharist
I walked in and asked the receptionist about the service. Ooo, one more quick tangent-- something they don’t teach you in divinity school that everyone should know. I am convinced that the most difficult job at a nonprofit homeless ministry like Lord of the Streets or IFC is not social worker or executive staff; it’s receptionist. Think about it: most people are happy to see their social workers since we are the people who arrange for free food/clothing etc. By the time people have passed through that protective layer of waiting rooms to where the actual resource distribution takes place, they’re usually just relieved to be getting needs addressed. Social workers get to give people stuff, but receptionists have to tell them to be patient and wait, so the receptionists wind up seeing people at their most aggravated. When people are confused about regulations, they usually take it out on the receptionist. When people are frustrated by a long wait, they usually take it out on the receptionist. When people are just feeling generally nasty and spiteful, they usually take it out on the receptionist. When someone is belligerent (and maybe even violent), the receptionist has to serve as the first line of defense. The receptionist can sometimes have to screen angry or confused callers, and the receptionist must know what everyone else in the organization does since they will have to forward every single call to the exact right person. The receptionist has to be the toughest, most knowledgeable, and most intellectual person in the building because it is a rough job. So if you’re talking to the receptionist at a nonprofit, you had better be nice because these are some of the toughest people on earth, and they deserve your respect. Anyway, the receptionist smiled and pointed to a room right off of the lobby where the Eucharist was to be held.
I walked in and took a seat in one of the rows of chairs along either side of the room. There were crosses on the largely-unadorned walls, a table in the center bearing the elements, and an upright piano over to one side. Like the lobby, it was blazing hot in the room, as the air-conditioner in the building seemed to be on the fritz. There were maybe a dozen people in the room, and they were either silent or sleeping. One wide-eyed man would occasionally state something to himself (usually something to do with religion-- pretty sure I heard something about the Romans in there). The man to my left was constantly buttoning and unbuttoning his shirt, debating about how much air would keep him properly cool, and the man on my right was fast asleep. People drifted in and out of the room, and I sat there in silent prayer as we prepared for the service to begin.
Into the room breezed Father Bob Flick, a friendly and energetic white-headed man in a short-sleeved black dress shirt with a stole hanging loosely around his neck. An older black man with a long gray beard made his way over to the piano, where he began fluidly playing a gospel tune. Brother William, a very clean-cut younger black man whom Father Bob later described as a graduate of their program, stood up next to the piano. He was sporting a collarless clerical shirt and dress pants, and he began to sing, but the man at the piano lifted a hand and chastised him-- not quite the right soul for that song; needed to give himself a second or two to really sync with the rhythm before he started singing. Brother William smiled and gave the pianist a minute more as the melody washed over us like a cool waterfall in that hot, sticky room. The songs at this Eucharist consisted of single lines repeated so that the other people in the room could pick up the words and sing along.
I’m so glad that Jesus lives in me
I’m so glad that Jesus lives in me
When I was homeless, Jesus lived in me
When I was homeless, Jesus lived in me
I decided that I wasn’t going to take notes in this service. Admittedly, most of this was sheer self-consciousness since it’s much harder to go unnoticed in a service of twenty people than in a service of 2,000. No matter where I worship, I always make sure that my note-taking will not be a distraction for people, and if I suspect it will be, then the notebook stays in my bag. The singing continued, and (at Father Bob’s encouragement) many of us drifted in and out of the room to pick up water bottles from the reception desk.
Jesus get us ready for that great day
Jesus get us ready for that great day
Sinners will be running on that great day
Sinners will be running on that great day
A man in an orange t-shirt read the Scripture at Father Bob’s behest, and though Father Bob informed us that one of the joys of an Episcopal service is the many readings of Scripture, with the heat in that room, we were going to keep it to one today.
Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.
We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn within a large family. And those whom he predestined he also called; and those whom he called he also justified; and those whom he justified he also glorified.
What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? Who will bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us. Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written,
"For your sake we are being killed all day long;
we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered."
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:26-39)
Again with that “more than conquerors” thing. I heard it in the Lawndale service. It’s in that pesky Lakewood jingle. And now here. What a weird refrain to keep hearing this summer. Father Bob asked the group what we thought the passage meant, and I decided to keep my theologically-trained trap shut and listen for the people in the room to teach me from a different perspective. The pianist spoke up and said that the passage was about not letting difficult circumstances prevent us from doing God’s work. Father Bob liked this and launched into a five-minute sermonette. I have to admit that it was difficult to pay attention in that hot, sticky room, especially since I was without my trusty blue notebook, but I listened as Father Bob preached in a very warm and conversational tone about how God loves us even though we screw up, and this reading from Romans is one of promise, not condemnation. Paul is saying that we need to focus on today and on the message that God has for us today, not trouble ourselves with the woes of tomorrow or yesterday but focus on the good that God gives us here and now-- God has only good news for us. We need to say yes to God when offered grace, but even if we say no, God will ask us again and again and never stop knocking at our door. Brother William led us in another song with that theme of redemption.
Glory glory hallelujah since I laid my burden down
Glory glory hallelujah since I laid my burden down
Friends don’t treat me like they used to since I laid my burden down
Friends don’t treat me like they used to since I laid my burden down
The time had come for the Eucharist meal itself, and as Father Bob said the words of institution, one man was reaching forward toward a basket of wooden crosses on the table. Father Bob interrupted himself and, with a patient and loving smile, he told the man, “We’ll give those out later. I promise.” The liturgy was the exact same words that I had heard as a junior in college when I used to go hear my friend Karl preach in the Episcopal chapel on my school’s campus. I knew the responses without even needing to open the spiral-bound liturgy books in our chairs. There was a peace in saying together these words that I knew so well, and something about it bound me to the people in this room. Something about the communion meal really does make us all equal even if our circumstances and backgrounds are different, and it was at about this point that I felt a refreshing breeze enter the room. We lined up and received Communion together, dipping the torn triangles of host into the common cup of wine and returning to our seats to sing one last song together.
I know it was the blood
I know it was the blood
I know it was the blood for me
One day when I was lost
He died upon that cross
I know it was the blood for me
Following a brief benediction, Father Bob informed us that there were bagged lunches available (Vienna sausages, fruit cup, granola bar, snack crackers, and a juice box), and we were welcome to take extra water on our way out. As we formed a line to receive the lunches, I introduced myself to Father Bob, and it was at this point that he gave me one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever gotten as a future minister. He looked me over really quickly and asked sympathetically, “Are you on the streets right now?” This may sound crass, but I was incredibly flattered by this-- joyful even. Though I feel a call to work alongside the homeless community as part of my ministry, I always worry that I come off like a fish out of a water, like a middle class white kid from a nice neighborhood who’s come to tell homeless folks how to fix their lives. I was flattered at the assumption that I was a part of this fellowship, or maybe Father Bob just saw me first and foremost as a disciple and didn’t make any assumptions about my background at all. We had a brief conversation about my roadtrip and the nature of my project and how it’s become a rather different take on the ordination process. Father Bob was still trying to get a bagged lunch into my hands, but I declined and said that it should be saved for someone who really needs it. Father Bob paused for a moment and then said with a smile, “We all need it, and we have plenty to spare here. Take it. I’m happy to help support anyone who’s enthusiastic about this sort of ministry.” I’m thinking about cutting those Vienna sausages up and sticking them in my easy mac to give myself a little protein, but I ate that granola bar the second I was in my car.
Father Bob and I talked a bit longer about the church’s ministry, and he encouraged me to come back on Sunday morning for their 7AM service. I am definitely not a morning person, but between my own interest in this ministry and Father Bob’s enthusiasm, I don’t think it’s something I could possibly miss. Regarding the passion for homeless ministry, Father Bob told me, “It’s just something in your blood-- something that fires you up, gets you going.”
Yes. Yes, it is. And it has to be a part of wherever I serve.
Thanks for that, Father Bob. This was a worship experience I really needed.
See you Sunday.
Peace and Blessings,
Tom
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