Home Brew

Yesterday when Jose came home from school nobody was there to open the door. He banged liked LAPD, yelled into the air in vain, gradually becoming more and more angry. Joseph was probably home, but sleeping or playing a prank on his brother, he didn't open the door.

So I went outside to invite Jose up to our place for a bit. I was concerned that he'd get angry and that his anger would boil over into violence as it has several times this year. It happened in a youth group meeting once and during the retreat human foosball game as well.

Violence is a serious stronghold here in the city and something that our church is preaching and praying through this month. The streets teach retaliation and reputation above reconciliation. Forgiveness? Forget about it. Adult ears and healthy anger outlets are as rare as green grass.

But yesterday, the Lord restrained our neighborhood's predilection towards violence. Jose came up to our place and checked out the YG retreat slideshow on our computer. He was particularly pleased with the picture of him engaged in an intense tetherball match.

Sarah and I offered him a drink and he opted for iced tea over milk and water, even after I warned him that it was homemade and thus not as tooth-erodingly sweet as Nestea or like beverages. He took a sip and noted regretfully that "it tastes weird."

Soon after he needed to use the bathroom as if the iced tea instantaneously overwhelmed his bladder. Weird thing was he took his glass in with him. Realizing the inconvenience of peeing while holding a glass I offered to hold it for him or something really inconceivable like place the glass on our dining table.

Jose hesitated ever so slightly in his response and I quickly realized what was happening: he was taking the glass with him to covertly dump out the iced tea, so as not to offend his youth pastor host. I corrected myself mid-sentence affirming that "maybe it's better if you take the cup in with you."

Miraculously, not a drip remained when he emerged. Soon after he went home and I had a little laugh about the interaction. What a considerate young youth, fully aware of my shame-based Chinese culture, taking great pains to reject an effort of hospitality indirection, subtlty and graciousness. Ah, the little joys of urban youth ministry!

Risk Journal #2

On Sunday I picked up Damio'n for church around 9:30 am. For the lat year he's been one of our student leaders and a really faithful one at that. As a result of our youth retreat he's absolutely in love with Boggle. Every chance we get he wants to play so I brought the game to youth church on Sunday. After a few rounds he was absolutely dominating the other kids. Once his vocab improves a little bit I'm sure he'll be giving me a run for my money.

During youth church we talked again about the importance of "closet time" - daily, personal, intimate time with Jesus. After giving out the "risk journals" during the youth retreat it seemed an appropriate follow up. So we talked about Luke 10, Mary and Martha's differing approaches to Jesus, and the need for us to sit at Jesus' fit each day in some fashion. The youth seemed open to the idea and I gave them a little bible reading devotional guide for the next two weeks.

As I drove home with Damio'n to drop him off at his grandmother's for a family birthday party I asked about his risk journal to see if it was something he had followed up on or if it was already collecting dust under his bed or in the closet.

He told me that his mother had been worried the past week about being able to pay rent. They just moved into a pretty decent place at 58th and Normandie and just when things seemed to settle down a bit for this family (they endured a stretch of homelessness earlier this year), Wal-Mart cut her hours to part-time. She confessed to Damio'n her fears in an unusually vulnerable manner. So Damio'n, at his own initiative, journaled and asked Jesus to provide. This was his very first entry.

Just two days later, Damio'n's older sister had good news - her 19 year-old friend who has a full-time job was looking for a place to stay. The friend moved in and took on a portion of the rent. There seems to be some relative stability on the housing front. It was a grand and timely provision from Jesus.

As Damio'n told the story, there was a sparkly in his eye that said - "Jesus, I am in awe of you. I can't believe you answered my prayer like you did. You're becoming real." He verbalized something similar. It was beautiful to witness his eyes and heart opened to Jesus in his life. His faith is growing!

I was equally blown away. At different points in the last year I found myself openly doubting the impact of God on our youth. Scripture, activities and prayer often seemed like wasted effort. The kids, student leaders like Damio'n included, just seemed uninterested in really follow Jesus. It seems that he is now pursuing Jesus after Jesus has pursued him for so long.

4 years ago a different student leader in our youth group had a similar breakthrough. God answered one of his prayers in a really personal way, but for whatever reason (perhaps there are many) it didn't last. Now I see him from time to time, but it's clear that his life has gone down a different path.

Please pray with me for Damio'n. I long for this breakthrough to develop into a persevering, transformative and staisfying relationship with Jesus. The tree images from Psalm 1 and Jeremiah 17 come to mind - deep roots in the living water Jesus gives, fruit that comes each and every season of his life. Would it be so.

Risk Journal #1

At our youth retreat last weekend we hoped and prayed for the youth to know Jesus in a deeper, real way. Not the Jesus of a story book or of thoughtless belief, but the Jesus that intervenes, answers prayer, redeems, forgives and is worthy of giving our entire lives. So as we closed on Sunday morning we gave them a chance to make their own journals, "risk journals." The risk journals are intended to be a space to record prayers, hopes, needs and the good risks they take to see that Jesus is real.

When we do something like this I generally don't expect much follow through from the youth. Either the journals get misplaced, or skateboarding and TV become far more interesting than writing in a book. I've tried it before with some middling success - after all, it probably just feels like more homework. Cynical I know, but probably realistic too.

On Wednesday, one of the boys' entries brought me to tears. Joseph lives across the street with his younger brother, baby sister and mother and has been in the midst of a tense family situation for years. Their mother is in process of divorcing the younger brother's biological father, a father figure to both boys. That father lives less than a block away but they are forbidden to see him. You can imagine the pain there must be.

And so Joseph filled the first three pages of his journal with reflections - emotive, raw and vulnerable. He talked about the sadness and anger he felt being back at home after a weekend in the mountains on retreat. His mother told him to "shut up bitch." That if he wanted food, "he could make his own damn food," which he'd do but for the fact that the pantry is bare. She whacked him with the wooden spoon for talking back. She told him that if he didn't get up at 6 am to watch the baby sister (she herself gets up at 10 am) then he couldn't go out and play later in the day. He wrote about trying so hard to be a good brother and son, only to see it blow up in his face over and over again.

Some of this may be adolescent hyperbole and woe-is-me. Some of it is appropriate, justifiable parental discipline. Some of it feels a bit too harsh (I've never been told to "shut up bitch."). But it's all painful reality for Joseph. It's his life, the life he has to live each day. And it was beautiful, tearfully beautiful, to see him write vulnerably in offering to Jesus. At the end of Joseph's entry he cried out to Jesus for help, declaring his faith that Jesus is real and good. It felt like the leper in Luke 5, or blind Bart inconveniencing Jesus' entry to Jerusalem.

Jesus prove yourself to Joseph. Stop to heal and comfort as you so often do. Demonstrate to him that you alone are worthy for him to give his life to.

And thank you for correcting my realistic, pragmatic cynicism. Please continue to do so.

16 youth, 7 adults, 2 nights in the mountains...

1 amazingly good and faithful God who took such good care of us all on our first ever youth retreat. Here’s a monster post testifying to the goodness of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

- All 16 youth showed up to depart from Los Angeles at 4 pm on Saturday and after stopping at In-N-Out Burger on the way, we arrived at camp as planned at 7:30 pm.

Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me bless his holy name!

- Throughout the weekend God kept us safe and healthy. The four cars made it up and down the mountains without incident. 16 youth, adrenaline pumping through their veins (the first morning, more than ½ the kids got up at 5:30 to sign up at the book store for activities), played paintball, flew down a zip line, fired arrows from bows, dove and cannon-balled into the swimming pool and kicked butt in human foosball SAFELY. In fact, I might have had the worst injury of the weekend after tripping and scraping my knee in paint ball.

Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not his benefits,

- God prevailed over two incidents that Satan could have used to really make the weekend difficult.

In the first, rain came pouring down during lunch on Saturday and threatened to cancel all of the afternoon activity time. The youth were clearly sad, some borderline angry and resentful that they had even come. I felt terrible that their chance to play outside in the mountains might not come. I feared that bitterness might harden their hearts.

But even as the rain and thunder continued, something miraculously shifted. The activities still cancelled, all 16 youth headed out together and made their own fun – taking over the sandy human foosball court with glee. They kicked and scored, whooped and hollered for nearly an hour as rain fell and thunder rolled.

It was a miracle that their joy was not stolen by the Devil and perhaps another miracle that a single activity could hold the interest of 16 youth, boys and girls, 12 year olds and 18 year olds, latino and black. I almost cried when I saw it.

Who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases,


- During the human foosball game an innocent incident turned ugly. One boy harmlessly kicked sand at another. The other responded by playfully throwing a fistful of sand back. The first boy was then enraged, attacking the other throwing punches. It was a shockingly rapid escalation to violence.

We talked to both boys individually. One seemed remorseful, but the other, the one who had thrown the punches was not. He said he didn’t want to be at camp anymore. That he wanted to go home. That he didn’t care if everyone was playing paintball later. That there was no way he was going to apologize to the other. This was the same boy whose mother once told me, “yeah, I tell him to hit back. He’s got to be a man.”

Two hours later, the boys had reconciled. Apologized and forgiven, face to face. And let me just say this is a rare thing in our world and an even rarer thing in the inner-city. To admit that you were wrong, to apologize, to forgive – these were miracles of God rooting out further bitterness and violence. Later in the day, these same two boys waited for one another so they could go out to paintball together. In the evening as they prepared for bed the two boys playfully and good naturedly engaged in a bed farting war. Forgiveness, Friendship and Farts – the gospel of Jesus.

Who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,

- God worked powerfully through our speaker, Alberto Oros. His life growing up resonated with many of our youth and his story of first encountering Jesus really opened their eyes. Several of them commented in amazement that they didn’t know Jesus could be so real. God kept their hearts soft and open to receive God’s word through Alberto on Saturday afternoon despite their fatigue and disappointment with the outdoor activities. (In the end, the weather cleared up for the last hour of activities so paintball, swimming and zip line were enjoyed by the youth).

Later that evening we asked the youth to reflect about Alberto’s story. In doing so several of our less outspoken youth shared stories with the entire group about Jesus.
o Jose shared about Jesus NOT answering his prayer and protecting him through that.
o Joseph shared about Jesus healing his mother who had complications in her recent pregnancy
o Flor shared of Jesus caring for her and miraculously discovering a defect in her heart that she will have surgery for shortly.
o Our three youngest girls Gladis, Sarah and Karina shared a desire for Jesus to heal others in their family. They want to see Jesus come through in a real way.
o Gerson shared of Jesus’ protection and provision on a bus ride home where he became stranded and a complete stranger gave him bus fare to get home.

One of our youth commented afterwards – “wow, that was intense. I was really touched by that.” Our youth not only received from Alberto, but also received from each other.

who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

- God gave the adult staff enough to love, pastor, play and serve the youth over the weekend. We are undoubtedly exhausted (getting woken up at 5 am and staying up until 1 am will do that) but it seems a contented, satisfied exhaustion. It was joy to partner with one another!

Bless the Lord, all his works, in all places of his dominion. Bless the Lord, O my soul!

Thank you for your prayers and partnership – they were deeply and intensely felt over the course of the weekend. Please continue to pray in particular for the next month or so for our youth. I find myself concerned for their well being post-retreat but know that our God is faithful and good.

In August we are partnering with Street Lamp Studios for “When Justice and Peace Kiss” and appreciate your prayers for this project. The youth have created some amazing art in the past and it’s my prayer that this will lead to deeper faith in Jesus for them.

Grace and Peace,
Elliot

An Incident

Around midnight last night, I sat in the office working when a police helicopter began to swirl overhead. The search light shined precisely on our corner and as I peered out the window, Chris was being led from his home in handcuffs to the back seat of a police cruiser. Four police cars filled our end of the block.

Chris had been a part of our youth group my first two years in Los Angeles. He was 15 and 16 those years and showed little interest in the Gospel. He was rough and cold, but never aggressive towards me. He came with some consistency but his heart never seemed to soften.

In the last couple years, as the CLH guys moved from 30th/Kenwood/Raymond, Chris seemed to change. He got a job at Yoshinoya. He started taking his sisters and brother to school. He seemed to be mkaing good choices and getting on the right track.

Then last night happened. Apparently the last three months have been hell. Gina sat on her step in tears, Sabrina was also crying. At first I didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because Chris was being taken away - a mother upset and saddened by the police taking her eldest son to jail. Sabrina, breaking down in tears because her big brother was headed to county, where he might stay for a while.

As we sat there and talked late into the night I discover it was Gina who had in fact called the police. She was angry and upset because the day before she had also tried calling the police but to no avail. Chris taunted her – “you can call them, they’ll never show up.” And so yesterday climaxed a series of unfortunate events. Three days ago, Chris broke a window and forced his way in to Diana’s room. Two days ago he forced Gina to let him in the house after she changed the locks and kicked him out. Yesterday after she left the door open for him, he came back high and drunk, attacked Richard for the key and ended up breaking the household computer.

Gina was at the end of her rope. I went with her this morning to file a temporary restraining order against her own son. I affirmed her for this courageous decision. She thought this was the right thing to do, but guilt and shame filled her repeated justifications - "the other kids don't want him around," or "I have to do this, I just have to" or "what if he does something worse." I agreed and assured her that this was the right thing to do. But she continued on, every minute or so, assuring herself that she was not an awful mother.

As we sat there last night waiting for the police to write their report, another neighbor said to me “she needs Jesus” and motioned for me introduce her to Him. The neighbor is right, so very right. But how do I tell Gina about Jesus?

As we sat in the court today she shared of the difficulty of the last 3 months. In April she lost her job because she has no legal status. She applied for welfare and food stamps and only just began to receive payments this month in July - $600 cash and $350 in food stamps a month for her and three teenage children. She became depressed and didn’t come out of the apartment for an entire month. No wonder I hadn’t seen her in forever. She thought about drinking her sorrows away, but by the grace of God chose not to – instead, she took doctor prescribed pills. At least her ex-boyfriend decided to help – he remains in their apartment, contributes to the rest and is good to the girls and Calvin. But she’s angry with God because it just feels like he’s not around when she needs him – or maybe he doesn’t care.

But boy does she need some healing. At 17 she gave birth to Chris – his dad a 35 year old at the time who has been absent and living somewhere in San Bernardino. At age 19 she had Calvin whose father abused her and left. At age 21 she had Diana only to have Diana’s dad leave her when Diana was 1 and get married within 3 months – prior to that, she caught him sleeping with a friend in her room. He hasn’t so much as paid for a set of pampers since. Then she had Sabrina at 23 with another man she met at work. They didn’t work out either and there was some violence. She hasn’t seen him in quite some time. And so, heart hardened and trust broken repeatedly, she became self-sufficient and self reliant. She decided no man would ever touch her again, but really decided something far deeper – no person would ever gain her trust again, she just couldn’t risk it.

So what to do now? The TRO was not granted but there’s a court date on 8/13. Chris could come back from the station/jail any day and she’s unsure what will happen. Surely he’ll come back, but how will she respond? Will the cops come? Will there be another violent episode? Lord have mercy and grant peace.

She’s pulling in a couple days a week at a clothing factory. That plus the welfare and Richard’s contribution is helping her make it. But what happens if he leaves. Heck, even if he doesn’t leave things are tight. What will this do to Calvin and Sabrina and Diana? How much brokenness and pain does this leave in their young hearts?

My little sister Anna is only 13. Sabrina, Gina's youngest is 12. What if Anna had to deal with no father and a brother violently attacking other family members? What if she had to see me getting taken away in handcuffs by the cops defiantly remorseless? What if she came home from school every day on guard and wary of her brother, unsure if he would hit or molest because of drugs and alcohol? What if her mother lost her job because of her immigration status and then became so depressed she couldn't put food on the table? Would she believe that there is a God that is good? Would she believe in redemption and hope and goodness?

Where are you Lord? How are we to be your church? I don’t know how to preach the Gospel here. I don’t know how your hope and redemption are believable to a person like Gina. Please Jesus, speak. Please Holy Spirit, move. Please Heavenly Father, love. Provide for Gina and give her hope that is true. Work in Chris, bring repentance and transformation. Heal and care for Sabrina, Calvin and Diana. Demonstrate who you are for your Name’s sake.

joy

miss destiny butler rolled up to public counsel today and i had the pleasure of meeting her face to face for the first time. we've had an interesting relationship over the last 7 months, though most of it has been fruitless as far as the law is concerned.

in march, destiny first called from her section 8 apartment on the verge of eviction. she was, in fact, so close to the edge that we were unable to assist her beyond words of comfort and encouragement. you see, the housing authority screwed up - big time. months earlier, destiny's apartment building was sold to a new owner. when the transfer occurred, destiny made the simple switch and began paying her share of the rent to the new owner. the housing authority, however, failed to make the same simple switch. for months, the new owner rightly wondered why he was only receiving the tenant portion of the rent and pursued an unlawful detainer action. by the time destiny called, the period for answering the unlawful detainer had passed and a sheriff's notice had been posted on her door. destiny didn't have a choice - she and her small children, well, they were moving.

in subsequent months, i provided advice and counsel for destiny via the phone. after her eviction, we wrote a letter to the owner of her apartment building demanding the return of her security deposit. he refused but will have a future date in small claims court. in april, i obtained a letter from the housing authority claiming full responsibility for destiny's eviction - perhaps this'll prove useful when she needs to search for another apartment, sub-standard credit history and all. in the summer months, she found trouble at the department of public social services. i did my best to straighten things out.

despite this mix of minor success and yet-to-be-determined success, the fracture in destiny's life that resulted from the housing authority's oversight had yet to heal. she and her children still had not been able to locate a new apartment or home to rent, though thankfully they weren't in the streets. the kids probably haven't been in school for months and destiny sure wasn't getting any closer to finding work and getting stable. not only that, but destiny got pregnant again. another child on the way and still no place to call home. it'd only be a matter of time before she wore out her welcome with family or friends and no longer had a warm bed to sleep in. time was ticking.

face to face today, destiny told me that she had found an apartment near rampart and washington. it's a three bedroom, in a decent neighborhood and, *gasp*, miles north of the 10 freeway. the housing authority went by yesterday and found nary a deficiency - 4825 pickford is ready for move in. my goodness gracious, homegirl found herself a place outside of south los angeles, that accepts section 8 and passed inspection. talk about hitting the lottery. once she gets her move in money from beyond shelter, things'll be peachy again and the healing can begin.

and to think, all of this, just in the nick of time. she's having her c-section tomorrow and the miracle of birth will be meet head on with the miracle of affordable housing in los angeles. destiny or just the Lord's timing? you and i both know the answer to that one. thank you Jesus.

house

today has been quite the day. housing law all day long and all day strong. and it wasn't just poor folks today - got the chance to give greg a little knowledge about raising rents and giving notice, though he already knew what was up.

it was busy, and i heard again from my good friend tashawna nettles. she's being evicted for not paying rent and there's really nothing we can do. if she had come a few days earlier, then maybe we could've gotten the stay of execution, maybe, assuming some nice guy judge decided that extreme hardship would follow. as it is, she got a notice yesterday on her door from the sheriff. the notice kindly notified her that in five days, they would come help her move out if she hadn't already. i suppose that we could've filed ex-parte, but really, what are the chances of prevailing with no appealable issue?

i called tashawna back to drop the hammer, as softly as i could.

"tashawna, i talked with some of the folks here and it doesn't look like the stay of execution is realistic. now that the sheriff's notice is on the door, the best thing to do is get your stuff together and move out. if you don't, they're going to come make you move."

"i'm really sorry tashawna, but there's just not enough time to get the stay. i wish it could be different, but there's really just no way. it's terrible, because you tried paying rent and they refused it, but the courts made their decision weeks ago."

"i know, three children right? how old are they? 6, 4,3? i'm sorry tashawna, i wish more than you know that you could stay."

she's tough like a nail though. or maybe it's that she's just been hardended by life in south central, life as a poor person.

"it's ok. we'll go to a shelter. i'll find a place for my kids and me, long as it ain't in skid row. the kids get scared there. but there are other places around. maybe we'll get into one of those transitional places."

"or yeah, i'll ask my mother, maybe we can stay there for a bit. i already started packing my stuff, figured there wasn't much of a chance anyway. it's ok. we'll be ok."

will it really be ok? if not in this life, perhaps the next.

why did the...?

the brother just wanted to get across the street. from one side of the damn road to the other, just like the chicken. why, you ask? i don't know, probably just because. and he almost made it. almost.

it's not so easy when you only have one good leg, the other cut from the knee down because of war or drugs or disease. it's not so easy when you're on a pair of rickety crutches. it's probably also not so easy when the street sits smack in the middle of the city.

but he's used to it. he's the kind of brother who's been around the block for a minute. san pedro, sixth, san julian - all of them, a place called home. he knows how to get around, he knows when the lights change from green to yellow to red, he knows when the red hand turns into a white man walking and when that white man turns back into a red hand, only this time it's flashing.

"it's really not so hard," he'll say.

but he's wrong, it is hard. especially if you're black. and you're homeless. and you're poor. and you're dirty. and you wear the same smelly shirt everyday because it's all you got. that's when policemen riding around on motorcycles find it necessary to beep their horn and flash their little lights in the name of public safety. that's when a one-legged homeless man needs to be educated and taught a lesson. that's when walking outside the painted white lines becomes a crime.

a certain interaction that ended with jesus healing a cripple on the sabbath is coming to mind. remind me, what did the pharisees say?

welcome home

benjamin s. lee, welcome home.

"he has decided, to follow Jesus. he has decided, to follow Jesus. he has decided, to follow Jesus.

no turning back, no turning back."

praise the Lord for his faithfulness, his hope, and his love. he is good, all the time, all the time, he is good.

restoration

youth group left a bad taste in my mouth last night. it was different than in previous weeks, but in retrospect, none to remarkable. i suppose that this was bound to happen. after all, it's just not reasonable to expect fun, lively, meaningful youth group sessions everytime out. hope for, yes. expect, no. and i know, things aren't always what they seem. maybe some seeds fell on fertile soil, distractions and all.

it makes sense to me now, though, that we meet in small groups for the other three or four weeks each month. large group is always potential disaster, volatile parts coming together, everyone waiting for the explosion. last night it was was less giant volcanic eruption and more that nick on the roof of your mouth that you can manage, but not forget. the boys just couldn't sit still. or keep their mouths closed. or turn off their cd players. or listen to pastor danny. even chris got distracted. damn, even chris.

but of course, the chaos and distraction was just the thing that led to the thing. things fell apart at the unholy matrimony of inconsiderate boys and a girl's family tragedy. amber's brother was shot and killed over the weekend, the family left to mourn. no wonder she didn't come sit with the rest of the folks. no wonder she hung around the back of the room, aloof and reserved. no wonder she had a fleece throw wrapped around her like a winter jacket. no wonder she refused the cookies and chips. no wonder...

who knows what happened. maybe he was part of a gang and he got what he was asking for. maybe it was wrong place, wrong time, him minding his own business, only to catch a few rounds in the chest. maybe he took a gun and shot himself. who knows. who, what, where, when, why, how? doesn't even matter. leave that to the cops. this girl's brother is dead and she's bawling. that's all that matters.

so we prayed for her, surrounded her with the only love and truth that we could give. we prayed for her, the family, and our broken city. her tears kept coming, but she was strong. in that moment, God's glory rested at loren miller. a youthgroup family from the inner-city, black and latino, girls and boys, together to mourn with one in pain.

then the matrimony. the boys just couldn't hold it together. audible chuckles and quiet whispers stung like flaming arrows. the peace was stained, the moment vanished.

i felt angry and disheartened. not at the boys, but at the world they live in, at amber's pain, maybe even God. it makes sense for the kids to respond like this. how many times do they here about friends getting shot or family getting killed? enough to make it less than surprising. david's friend was shot and killed a couple years back. tito's brother shot also. of course they responded the way they did, without a thought, indifferent laughter rather than somber grief. pretending like it's not real is the only way to make it through.

Lord, will you be angry at us forever? will you prolong your anger to all generations? will you not revive us again so that we may rejoice in your name? forgive your people, restore your land, grant us your salvation.

"Let me hear what God the Lord will speak,

for he will speak peace to his people, to his faithful, to those who turn to him in their hearts.

Surely His salvation is at hand for those who fear him,

that his glory may dwell in our land.

Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet,

righteousness and peace will kiss each other.

Faithfulness will spring up from the ground,

righteouness will look down from the sky.

The Lord will give what is good, and our land will yield its increase.

Righteousness will go before him, and will make a path for his steps."

-psalm 85:8-12

number one

i am the first person to arrive at work this morning and i successfully disarmed the security system.

sp assignment

at the end of luke 19, Jesus makes an indictment against the temple in jerusalem with this passage from Jeremiah:

"'Will you steal and murder, commit adultery and perjury, burn incense to Baal and follow other gods you have not known, and then come and stand before me in this house, which bears my Name, and say, 'We are safe' - safe to do all these detestable things? Has this house, which bears my Name, become a den of robbers to you? But I have been watching!' declares the LORD." (jeremiah 7:9-11 NIV)

our assignment was to mimic jeremiah and make a rebuke of the contemporary american church. here's what i came up with:

"'Will you purchase goods made at the hands of child slaves, perpetuate sexual immorality with pornography and divorce, turn a blind eye to the genocide in sudan and the natural disaster in southeast asia, stand for an unrighteous war and innocent deaths, worship at the temple of wealth, comfort, and security, and then come and stand before me in this church, which bears the name of Jesus, and say 'We are Christians' - people who do as they please because God's grace is cheap and salvation is assured? Has this church, which bears the cross of Christ, become the home of a people who no longer hear or live the Word of God? But I know your hearts!' declares the Lord."

churches need to repent. who will prophesy?

the day after

for the most part, los angeles seems to be at peace with itself. rumors swirled about cinco de mayo, rumors of death and violence and evil. who knows if it was true or just something he heard from her and said to him. regardless, praise God for the peace in south la schools. now if only we could start praying about school attendance.

"the boys" have dwindled down to chris and david. sharkie decided that metro wasn't quite his style so he's put in for a transfer somehwere else. but where's he going to go? back to johnson? homestudy? who knows. i just pray that wherever he ends up, he ends up off the streets.

david and chris didn't go to school yesterday. just 2 of the thousands of los angeles students that stayed home to avoid the potential melee. when i talked to david this morning he claimed that he just wanted to skip school, that it had nothing to do with fear or safety or not wanting to get shot. nothing at all david? no, i just didn't want to go to school, he says. funny thing though- last monday, after getting jumped by a crew over the weekend, he showed up outside my apartment at 7:45, busted lip, chipped tooth and all. you're going to tell me that he went to school like that, asking for embarassment and harassment, and he stayed home yesterday just cause he wanted to? doesn't add up.

on the ride to metro this morning cinco de mayo was an obvoius topic of conversation given the rumored violence. here's how conversation went after we discussed the rumored violence:

me: "david, you do anything with your family for cinco de mayo?"

david: "naw man, i'm not mexican..."

me: "that's right - you're half salvadorean and half guatemalan."

david: "yeah."

me: "yeah, serg's mexican, his family might've done something."

david: "he's half-mexican?" (i'd like to emphasize the incredulous tone at this point)

me: "no, he's full mexican man. one hundred percent"

david: "what? hell no! why's his name 'serg' then?" (even more disbelief)

me: "it's sergio arroyo. mexican. "

david: "damn."

me: "where'd you think he's from?"

david: "damn, i thought he was from new england. or something."

you can only begin to imagine the joy this conversation brought me.

superior court

i made my first-ever court appearance today at the Los Angeles Superior Courthouse on north grand avenue. dressed in my suit (well, ernie's suit), leather portfolio in tow, i hopped on the redline and rode downtown to join my supervising attorneys in our attempt to ask for a stipulated continuance (just a fancy way to say that we need an extension).

we're arguing a case of wrongful eviction and without getting into specifics (attorney client privilege my friends), our client is a low-income family that has been served a 3-day notice and an unlawful detainer by their landlord. allegedly, something happened with their section 8 payments so that the landlord hasn't received government housing subsidies for several months. now, our poor clients owe many dollars in back rent and are knocking on the door of homelessness yet again.

obviously, i'm thrilled to be in a place where the law seeks justice, even for the poor. the legal research and preparation of court documents for the case has been fairly interesting, though requiring some long hours. despite that, the chance to prevent this family from losing their home is exciting to say the least. if they lose it, they end up in some dilapidated downtown motel. if they keep it, they have a chance to make it.

as i opened the door to division 97 where our case was to be heard the excitement came to a head. in just a few seconds i'd be participating in an actual hearing, in an actual courtroom, before an actual judge. i sat nervously with my two supervising attorneys, making some last minute preparations in case our stipulated continuation was denied. the judge entered, we were second on the docket. once called, carolyn approached the bench, asked for the stipulated continuance and it was granted. we're done - two minutes after entering the courtroom, we exited with a court date for next week.

all in all, it was pretty cool - though the two minutes of sitting in the courtroom didn't really live up to the john grisham-esque fantasies that i drew up in my head. maybe that happens at my second-ever court appearance.

divine intervention

day three of taking chris, david and sharkie to school almost ended in disaster. as we pulled onto the 10 freeway from vermont, traffic was bad. whereas ten minutes the previous day got us all the way to school, ten minutes today didn't even get us to the 110. it was 7:55 and the clock was ticking. another couple of minutes puttering along the freeway and it became clear: something disastrous must have happened on the 10 to back traffic up this far.

i made the decision with the approval of the boys to go north on the 110 and attempt to cut through downtown via 6th street. i'm not sure if you've ever driven through downtown los angeles at rush hour, but it's not a pretty sight. it's not even a paticularly pretty sight mid-morning or early afternoon - the traffic lights are poorly synchronized, cars jam the streets and there's always some kind of construction or giant movie production van occupying an entire lane. no one, not even bruce almighty gets through without stopping at a couple lights.

but at 8:07 we gamble. we had to. we stop at the red on sixth and figueroa at 8:07 - 8 minutes to get all the way to the far east side of downtown where metropolitan continuation school sits. 8 minutes to get through a concrete jungle filled with moving obstacles, large and small. 8 minutes to see if this late day is the one that breaks the camel's back. the boys in the back are discouraged, knowing that if they're late, they've got a date with their probation officers. the contingency plans come flowing out like rap lyrics: "my mom'll get a doctor's note," "i'll say i was with the welfare man," "you just come in and tell the teachers," and on and on. man, wasn't i taking these kids to school to make sure they got there on time?

we start down sixth and a miracle unfolds before our eyes. one redlight turns green just as we approach, then another, and another and another... and before we know it, i'm praising God and telling the boys to pray for greens as we speed down sixth. red to green, red to green, red to green. it doesn't end until two lights before the school. at 8:13 we pull into the parking, the boys jump out of the car and into homeroom. they sign-in, presumably at 8:14, with a minute to spare.

Praise the Lord.

school bus

last night at youth group chris and i were chatting and somehow got to the subject of school attendance. oh yeah, i remember - we were sharing prayer requests after our brief study of saul's conversion on the road to damascus and chris asked for a saul like transformation in his school attendance record. apparently, he, david and sharkie are teetering perilously close to expulsion from their continuation school for too many late days. the consequence of frequent tardiness, while normally benign in terms of punishment, in their case, is far more serious - they're at school as a apart of their terms for probation and if they violate probation, well, it's jail time.

now there's no way i'm going to allow these boys to end up in jail - after all, what would happen to tuesday night basketball with four less bodies? so i offered to take the boys to school in the morning and make sure that they get there on time. chris gladly accepted, almost in unbelief, but a deal had been struck. the more i thought about the boys' school situation though, the more it seems like they are set up for failure. seriously, how can you expect high school kids to take the metro through downtown los angeles and actually consistently arrive at school on time? even if they have no desire to play around (which, invariably there always is), they still have to get up at the crack of dawn to brave the many stops of the metro and the rush hour traffic of los angeles.

today was the first day, and to perfectly honest, i can't think of a better way to start of my day. as i pulled up to david's place on 30th, the three of them were waiting outside and when they saw my car, their faces literally lit up. it was as if they couldn't believe that i'd actually showed up to take them to school. if i had been a couple of minutes late, they probably would've just assumed that i wasn't coming and went ahead on the metro. no big deal. when they got in the car, it was high-fives all around and then, something fairly miraculous: while individually listening to cd players blasting some form of rap and r&b, the boys nonetheless chatted it up with me the whole way to school.

it was great. as i was driving, david, in his effusive, ghetto fabulous way, showed me all the "cuts" to school. we weaved through local streets to avoid streetlights and traffic, through warehouse districts east of downtown and at about 7:53, something dawned on them: they were going to set a new record. the previous benchmark for arriving at school was somewhere in the neighborhood of 8:05 (first period bell rings at 8:15). but thanks to david and all his "cuts" (or maybe it's "cutz") we got to school by 7:55. i'd also like to throw out that my aggressive (but safe) driving may or may not have been a factor in accomplishing said feat.

the comedic moment of the day came as we discussed how they had accumulated so many late days in the first place. most of the time, there's trouble with the bus. either it arrives late at jefferson or it takes a long time to transfer down by alameda. this puts them at school around 8:30 or 9:00. sometimes though, they get to school closer to 11:00. "11:00?" i said incredulously, "why so late?" i mean, it seems like they always get on the bus around 7:30 or 7:45, so a small delay due to the bus i can see...but 11:00? that's like major. was there a big car accident? someone have a heart attack? police pull over the bus driver?

"we go to eat." they go to eat. they get off the bus, stop at a diner and eat. can you believe that! haha. but it makes so much sense. if they're late 1 minute, it's the same has being late 4 hours - might as well get some scrambled eggs and hash browns if you're going to be late. smart kids.

anyhow, that's day one of the adventure, in the books. hopefully this'll be the first of several hundred consecutive school days of on-time arrivals and hopefully, it only ends when they graduate. pray my friends, please pray.

cookie

i was planning on blogging about redeemer youth group from this past monday night, but i feel like God's putting something else on my heart, and revealing quite a bit out of it. so here goes...

a few weeks ago, the girls downstairs befriended a woman from the neighborhood named cookie. they had a brief rendezvous at the local laundromat, after which the girls invited cookie over for dinner. as it turns out, cookie not only lives in our neighborhood, but on our very street, albeit in circumstances none-to-similar. she is borderline homeless, scrapping together $15-a-day from her GR check to pay for her "apartment" (as a side note, GR checks run a maximum of $221/month which, if you do the math, only lasts cookie 14.73 days/month; presumably, she spends the rest of her time chillin' 24/7 in the streets of beautiful south central los angeles); she is unemployed and searching vigorously for a job, though at 60 years of age cookie's not quite the apple of any employer's eye; she also loves to cuss and cuss she does, at a rate far too profuse for the average inner-city minister to bear.

the girls' relationship with cookie has been interesting. after the initial meeting and dinner gathering, cookie's increasing comfort with the girls has been obvious. without warning cookie'll often stop by and unabashedly request a handout or some kind of assistance. at any time, on any day, for any matter, cookie might drop by and pay a visit. for this, i think God is due some praise. the level of relationship and trust and the opportunity to serve the least is pretty darn cool - something that at once challenges and encourages me, and reminds me a bit of how the poor and sick flocked to Jesus during his time on earth. on a personal note, i wonder why homeless folks aren't stopping by on my doorstep all the time looking for a little bit of help. actually, there's not too much wonder - it's probably unlikely that a man or woman off the streets will just start showing up at my apartment without any initiative on my part. that is, unless a sect of homeless jehovah's witnesses springs up in the near future.

back to cookie. in an effort to care for more than cookie's day-to-day needs, the girls downstairs asked me to look into some potential shelters, programs and social services that might provide cookie with more stability. i worked on her public benefits situation a bit and did a little research into homeless shelters for women. the excitement peaked this past wednesday when i located a transitional shelter program, designed specifically to provide women with job-training and the means to get back on their feet. i was pumped - cookie would have a chance to save money, develop job skills and become self reliant, all outside of skid row. it really felt like i was doing a good thing.

thursday morning rolled around and after confirming an appointment for cookie at the shelter, i called lauren to make sure that cookie would be available. my excitement was met with an unexpected surprise - cookie had found a job and would be able to continue living in our neighborhood as before. now, even without the shelter, cookie would have a chance to save money, develop job skills and become self-reliant, all outside the drug-infested, demonic stronghold of skid row. we, servant partners interns, would also be able to play a part in her life with the hopes of showing her small and large glimpses of the kingdom of God. but for whatever reason, this success created little joy in my heart and though i conveyed excitement and optimism to lauren, the emotions were feigned at best.

i thought some about my reaction to all this and came to the following conclusion: i have very little idea of what it means to love my neighbor as myself. in this instance, instead of wanting a life of hope and meaning for cookie, my sole ambitions were to show my usefulness as an advocate for the poor and to move her out of our neighborhood to a shelter where she could be someone else's problem. wanting cookie to have a job and become more stable was motivated by selfishness, not compassion or love. and claiming that there is more in this world for cookie than the destructive cycle of living on the streets was a perverted way of protecting my own comfortable lifestyle, rather than a true proclamation of the hope that comes from Jesus Christ.

in response to a lawyer seeking to justify himself before man, Jesus describes a samaritan who crosses all sorts of difficult boundaries - racial, religious, prejudicial - to "prove neighbor" and love a man who had been beaten, robbed and left for dead on the road from jerusalem to jericho. upon seeing his jewish brother, the samaritan takes leave from his own journey to care for the jew - he binds up his wounds, sets him on his beast and brings him to an inn. as he leaves the inn, he says to the innkeeper, "Take care of him; and whatever more you spend, i will repay you when i come back." let me say that once more. as he leaves the inn, he says to the innkeeper, "Take care of him; and whatever more you spend, i will repay you when i come back." to this Jesus commands, "Go and do likewise."

aml

To my lovely sister in ohio...

Happy 19th Birthday. I love you very much.

-your brother

adios

she's leaving on a jet plane, don't know when she'll be back again...
well, it's not completely true, but close enough.

bye.

lincoln heights

we hit the mean streets of lincoln heights again this past weekend after a two week hiatus, courtesy of servant partners spring break. the last time i was there we celebrated Easter with local families in lincoln park, some of whom we had met before, some of whom we came to know that afternoon. a good time was had by all. by the way, if you just so happened to be planting a church in the inner-city of a family-oriented, predominantly latino community, keep this in mind: a lot of free chinese food and a big ole' jumper for the kids can do a lot in the way of attracting attention. mix in a little pick-up soccer and a festive religious holiday, and you'll be needing Jesus himself to multiply your beef and broccoli stir-fry.

it seems that after just a few weeks of canvassing the neighborhood, fruit is bearing in lincoln heights. that is to say that our meager once-a-week attempts at building friendships and slightly-higher frequency of prayer and reflection (hopefully) have been met with a disproportionate measure of God's faithfulness and grace. for me and lauren, this has come in the way of a forty year-old woman named denise and her two elementary school age daughters. we met the first weekend after an awkward encounter outside the house with her teenage son, and now, each week we visit lincoln heights, we stop at their modest home filled to the brim with family, nuclear and otherwise.

this past week, we visited again and, before we knew it, 45 minutes flashed by. tiny bits and pieces of this woman's life and the life of her two younger daughters fell into our lap. here's a sampling: she plays in a softball league with her 5 sisters and has done so for the past 4 years; she used to commute four hours round trip from hemet to los angeles for a job that paid "good money"; she was a varsity baller at lincoln high before a bum knee and motherhood ended her career; she regularly cooks 5 course meals because daughters in the 3rd and 4th grade are picky with food and uniquely picky at that; the father of her children has a sizable gut, so much so that the children call him volkswagen (think of the voluptuously curved beetle).

daughters, sisters, mothers, grandmothers...
denise's home is a home of women - daughters, sisters, mothers, grandmothers. though this home of women houses vibrant notions of love and family, i pray that things will change. though this house welcomes and opens its doors to strangers, with each visit my heart ails. love and family does not equal hope and truth. a house that has been home to this family for generation upon generation, cannot hide the brokenness of sin - fatherless children, husbandless wives, brotherless sisters. their's is a lineage of men leaving women. Lord, have mercy.

"Though your people, O Israel, be like the sand by the sea,
only a remnant will return.
Destruction has been decreed, overwhelming and righteous." - Isaiah 10:22.

i will wait for the Lord, who is hiding his face from the house of Jacob, and I will hope in him.

po' folks

i went to apply for food stamps last thursday at my local welfare office. i'm in that rarefied air of folks who make income through full time jobs yet still qualify for government benefits. it seems that, in a community such as my own, cases like this are not in short supply. makes me wonder if America's idea of minimum wage ought to be altered to something a bit more livable. in any event, i'll now have the chance to not only understand government benefits from a theoretical stand point as an advocate at a public interest law firm, but am going to experience it all first hand. thank you AmeriCorps for not paying me more than you do. i wouldn't be in this fortuitous situation without you.

there's an office right off 27th and grand, about two blocks east of USC called "metro special." it's interesting that the LA county department of public social services (dpss) chooses to name it's welfare offices. it's even more interesting that they choose to name many of them "____ special." as far as i can tell, there's nothing too special about these offices - not the buildings, not the workers, not the service and certainly not the bathrooms. some, however, do have tv's in the lobby with built in dvd players. that, and digitized message boards that scroll the latest in dpss news to welfare recipients. i suppose that's pretty special.

anyhow, the visit thursday wasn't my first to metro special. i actually go on a semi-regular basis with students that i've trained (law, social work, undergrads etc.) to do advocacy in the welfare offices. we show up at the offices, ask people if they are having any trouble with their GR (in LA county, welfare money is called General Relief, GR for short) or food stamps, and advocate on their behalf. beyond helping various individuals, our advocacy is a way to keep the county's dpss offices accountable to serving the impoverished and destitute of Los Angeles. how effective we are is debatable - when we do show up at the offices, things seem to run relatively smoothly and the welfare recipients are served in a timely and dignified manner. but we aren't there everyday, and from what my clients tell me (and what i would otherwise guess), things change drastically when folks brave the dpss offices advocate-less.

but back to my own process of applying for food stamps. in my head, i prepared for an ordeal both in terms of the length of time it would take to apply and in terms of the hassle i would have dealing with welfare workers. most of the clients we serve when we do advocacy in the welfare offices wait from early in the morning to early evening, only to be issued return appointments for the following day. however, what transpired was completely unexpected. soon after filling out the application at the customer service desk, i was called up to the service window to have a pre-screening with an eligibility worker. the worker was chinese, spoke to me in chinese when she discovered that i was chinese, and treated me with compassion that doesn't otherwise exist at dpss offices. needless to say, things from there went a lot smoother for me than most.

a process that takes a homeless man or starving woman an entire day (if not more) to complete, took me just over two hours. before you knew it, i was on my way to enjoy the rest of my caesar chavez day off. normally, this would be a cause for celebration - i, due to my iron will and indomitable spirit, required a mere 2 hours to accomplish what it takes others an entire day to do. Indeed, this was an accomplishment in the same vein as my well below average 40 beats per minute resting heart rate and the exactly $20.00 i spent at shell the last time i filled up.

but no, i didn't celebrate. i didn't laugh to myself, smile or even feel satisfied. instead, i fumed. it burned me that even at a welfare office, a place created expressly to serve poor folks, inconsistency and injustice and inequality abound. maybe i should've flipped over some chairs and tables and caused a scene. maybe i should've hurled a few obscenities with my newfound rage. some dude from nazareth did. at least according to mark 11.

but not me. i got in my car, bought a hot fudge sundae with peanuts and went home.

homage

like the many valiant men and women who have tasted defeat before me, i stand before you now, waving my white flag. blog entry number 1 is now up.

you can thank masaki for the creative blog title. we'll see how long this charade lasts.