My Hero

We got some snow yesterday. You may have noticed. And by “some” snow, I mean a “crap ton” of snow. The next day our team was shoveling at our base in Elizabeth, NJ, to make sure that we could get our outreach vehicles to the people we serve each week. Now, I’ve been shoveling snow at our headquarters since my first day on the job over ten years ago, so I wasn’t about to miss the party. As I was heading out the door, my wife asked me if I could stop somewhere for milk on my way home. After pillaging her purse for cash, a $5 bill and two $1’s, I agreed.

After uncovering my Honda Accord, I drove to work through some really icy and narrow roads. I made it to our base and got to work. About an hour later I had to make my way home for some virtual meetings. As I was about to pass a 711, I remembered my wife’s request: milk.

I pulled into what was once a parking lot, but was clearly just an ice skating rink. I managed to park, put my mask on and went inside. On my way inside, I made eye contact with a man shivering by the front door who was clearly in search of cash donations. He was an older black man with eyes that were sad and blood shot. He was wearing something that masqueraded as a winter coat, but that wasn’t fooling anyone. I remembered the $7 I had stolen from my wife in my pocket and while I was thinking about whether or not I should throw a buck or two his way, I remembered that I had a very specific objective and decided to give him some change on my way out. So I nodded and told him I’d get him on the other side.

I found the milk and decided to get half and half while I was at it. The total bill came to $6.70. I reached for my $7 and remembered the man outside. In a moment I decided to pay with a card and I pulled the $5 bill out. As I walked out the door, there he was.

“How are you doing, man? You hanging in there? Staying warm?”

“Trying to,” he replied. As I handed him the $5 bill I asked him what his name was.

”Marcus.”

”Marcus. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Josiah. Hang in there, man.”

I walked over to my car and got in. As I put the car in reverse, I quickly discovered that I wasn’t going anywhere. I was stuck. My tires spun and spun and I just sat there. I couldn’t go forwards or back. I turned the wheel back and forth, shifting from drive to reverse and back again. As I was getting frustrated (both with my wife for asking me to stop and with myself for choosing that particular ice skating rink) I saw Marcus making his way to my car.

Marcus shoveled around my tires. Shouting instructions as he did. He ended up working with me for 20 minutes, singlehandedly pushing my car all the way to the street. As I slid out of the parking lot, I rolled down my window down and shouted, “You’re my hero!”

Homeless folks are not just freeloaders. They aren’t beggars who choose to stand in freezing temperatures with inadequate clothing hoping to accept handouts from strangers who are actually “making a living.” These are men and women with hopes and dreams, families and friends, strengths and weaknesses. Just like you. Just like me. The only difference is that life played them a terrible hand. Instead of judging them, let’s try empathizing with them.

I tried to find a way to help Marcus without any clue that just a few moments later, I would be the one “in need.”

We Blame Homeless People

I believe that we tolerate homelessness as a society because we have bought into the lie that we all get what we deserve (until WE don’t). So if someone is in the street, it must be his fault. We can build outdoor dining pods, but encampments need to be torn down.

We blame homeless people for being homeless so that we can absolve ourselves from being responsible for doing nothing about it. If we really wanted to end homelessness, we could. But it would require a shift in thinking and a shift in resources.

There is a reason some wealthy folks hire lawyers to sue city governments who want to place a shelter or low-income housing in their communities. They believe they earned their position of privilege and the houseless earned theirs. If we ever want to make a dent this must change.

Understanding that homelessness is a result of systemic injustice is a first step. By insisting that all housing units include access for low-income and homeless individuals we would be offering a small down payment on a debt that we incurred with years of neglect and oppression. By increasing access to housing vouchers, SNAP benefits, and Medicaid we would actually be admitting that we ALL share the burden of homelessness and if we REALLY were concerned about the encampments, the public urination or the trash, we could collectively do something about it.

I don’t believe there are enough people in power who understand that when it comes to homelessness and poverty “handouts” are part of the solution. Not because they deserve it, but precisely the opposite: they don’t! They don’t deserve to be hungry in the street. Nobody does.

Ignorance Isn’t Bliss

The fact that homelessness continues to inspire antagonistic reactions from individuals living in wealthy neighborhoods like the Upper West Side is proof that our ignorance problem is just as bad as our homelessness problem. Don’t get me wrong, homelessness is terrible and with massive unemployment, a looming eviction crisis, and a global pandemic that disproportionately targets communities of color, things will likely get worse before they get better.

Yet, we still can’t seem to wrap our collective minds around the fact that homelessness is not simply a consequence of poor decision making, drug and alcohol addiction, and mental illness. Over the years, I have witnessed neighborhoods protest the presence of homeless shelters in the name of decreased property values and the fear that “those people” will increase crime and violence in “our” neighborhoods.

The us vs. them language that drips off the pages of New York Post articles with words like “drunks” and “sex offenders” don’t just reveal a lack of empathy for their fellow human beings, but reinforce stigmas that show a remarkable level of ignorance around what actually causes homelessness and what everyday citizens can do about it.

First of all, can we please stop reinforcing the idea that people choose to be homeless? Nobody chooses to be homeless. Sometimes people choose the way in which they experience their homelessness, but given any viable alternative, there is no “choice.”

I met a gentleman in Harlem a few years back who was an alcoholic. He was in his fifties and he spent most of his life in the streets. He asked me to help him get into detox because, in his words, he was “tired of being tired.”

“When did you start drinking?” I asked.

 “When I was a kid my mom and I moved in with a guy who used to beat me up. As I got older and stronger, I started to fight back. He didn’t like that. When I was fourteen, he gave my mom an ultimatum: it was me or her. You can probably guess what she did. I’ve been in the streets and drinking myself to death ever since.”

Almost forty years later, this man was chronically homeless and self-medicating with alcohol to stay alive. His drinking didn’t cause his homelessness; his homelessness caused his drinking. For many New Yorkers the options of a shelter system that is known for violence and abuse versus sleeping on a park bench or subway car are not options at all.

Secondly, not all homeless people are criminals and shelters won’t destroy your property value. It’s extremely frustrating that this even needs to be said, but here we are. According to the New York Times, shelters can decrease property values in New York City by a whopping 6 or 7%. I suppose when your property costs millions of dollars, that can feel pretty devastating. But another article by City Limits states that “a study released by NYU’s Furman Center in 2008 found that supportive housing in New York City does not have a negative impact on nearby property values. And if it’s the “Wild West” that you’re concerned about because you’ve been reading the New York Post, a recent Daily News op-ed actually shows that the Brennan Center analysed changes in crime rates from the twentieth and twenty-fourth precincts and crime on the Upper West Side is actually down 10.5% even as the uproar about luxury hotels being converted into temporary homeless shelters has skyrocketed.

The bottom line is that Covid-19 forced us into a situation where homelessness is now front and center. Take away the tourists, shutter many of the businesses and restaurants, close the subways between 1 am and 5 am, and just like that many of the people who used to blend into the fabric of a bustling city are now just bursting the bubble of perceived economic bliss. 

The hotels are a temporary solution to protect those who cannot stay home simply because they don’t have one. While the infection rate in NYC is down, the memory of sirens echoing through the streets should not be so easily forgotten. Coalition for the Homeless evaluated the death rate of homeless New Yorkers in congregate shelters and found that “as of June 1st, the overall New York City mortality rate due to COVID-19 was 200 deaths per 100,000 people. For homeless New Yorkers sleeping in shelters, it was 321 deaths per 100,000 people on an age-adjusted basis – or 61 percent higher than the New York City rate.” 

If we are actually going to take on the issue of housing affordability and homelessness, we need to start by tackling our collective ignorance and recognizing that the people in these hotels on the Upper West Side didn’t ask to be there. 

If ignorance is bliss, we should all be feeling pretty great right about now. Unfortunately, our homelessness problem won’t be solved by reinforcing stereotypes and shouting at people who are already stuck between a rock and a hard place. Instead of hiring lawyers, maybe we should invest in converting unused hotels all over NYC into SRO’s. Maybe instead of paying $3500 per month in shelter fees for hotel accommodations, we should increase the monthly allotment for CITYFEPS vouchers from $1,265 to $2,000. Maybe, instead of judging those with fewer resources than they need, we could try to learn more about the resources that are available to share. 

Several hundred new homeless neighbors do not have to ruin the neighborhood unless the neighborhood in question makes the transition so intolerable that people start doing stupid things along the way. There are systemic changes that need to be made, but there are also small efforts that can make a lasting impact. Try learning your new neighbor’s name. Try offering to buy lunch with a gift card to a local restaurant. Learn what some of their biggest challenges your new neighbors are facing right now. Don’t try to be a savior. Just listen. 

With some effort, the Upper West Side could be the standard of hospitality and social justice instead of a negative object lesson for NIMBY outrage. It can be done. But ignorance will not take you there. Sometimes the simplest solutions are the best, and for me, those kids drawing “Welcome to the neighborhood” in chalk out front of the Lucerne hotel was exactly the direction we all need to go. I think we need to let the kids lead on this one, God knows the adults aren’t making things any better. 

Brace for Impact

I’ve been doing more interviews with reporters lately than ever before. It turns out the homelessness crisis and the #Covid19 crisis are on a collision course and people want to know what’s going on. Why are our lines so long? Are there more homeless people today than there were a week ago? If so, where are they coming from? And why don’t we do a better job of practicing “social distancing” with this already vulnerable population? All valid questions. First of all, I don’t think we have experienced the full force of an increase in the numbers of homeless people... YET.

I believe we are experiencing the simple physics of what happens when the same number of people are forced by circumstance into a smaller container of services. Lots of organizations and direct service providers are cutting back (New York City Relief has trimmed our hours). Most places are either switching to to-go meals or to no-meals at all. So, in a nutshell, more hungry people, fewer options.

The other problem is that we often forget the vital role that coffee shops and restaurants play in serving the homeless community. These are public spaces that they can go during the day to rest, use WiFi, and get a bite to eat. This is no longer an option. So where do they go? What do they do? The vast increases of people that we have witnessed in the streets is simply the natural consequence of few options and services. Today. But tomorrow... well tomorrow could look much much worse.

The number of people filing for unemployment has gone up 1500%! Yes, that is not a typo. Also, as the virus spreads through the staff and service agencies that are currently serving the homeless population, more organizations will close their doors. We are on a razor’s edge right now ourselves. So what happens when a small percentage of this newly unemployed group of people loses their housing? And what happens when more organizations close their doors? The math is not our friend. We are only just seeing the initial rumblings of this economic earthquake.

Please pray for our team and ALL the other organizations that are serving the homeless community. Pray for safety, provision, and sustainability. Also, invest. I know it’s not a good time economically for many of you. But if you are in a good spot, consider giving to a nonprofit that is trying to stay put. We want to do everything right. We want to practice social distancing and help mitigate the spread of Coronavirus. We are genuinely changing everything that we do to keep people as safe and as fed as possible. I literally draw chalk lines on the sidewalk every 6 feet for an entire city block. We parol the line and firmly ask all of our guests to stand one person per chalk line. We have hand washing stations. We don’t set up tables anymore. We are bleaching down all surfaces. We are giving to-go meals. We don’t even have the ability to one-on-one assessments onsite because that would be too close for too long.

We are trying. Really really hard. But we are far from perfect. We are learning and adapting everyday to new scenarios. We are making a lot of mistakes. For example, I don’t often wear n95 masks so I rarely wear it correctly. We can’t keep people as far apart as we’d like and they sometimes form a “large gathering” that upsets the neighbors. We have huge lines and I really, really need to find a way to change that.

We risk so much by showing up during this health crisis, personally and professionally, but we also know that these people are soon going to be competing for even fewer resources and it is equally risky to leave them behind just because we can plan ahead.

It is going to get a lot worse. I hope I’m wrong. I hope this virus dies out and the economy roars back to life. Nothing would make me happier. But we are planning for the worst while we hope for the best. We are bracing for impact. I believe these are tremors. The tsunami is still a few miles out. We should brace for impact.

Social Distancing AND Social Responsibility

The best advice right now to deal with COVID-19, also known as the Novel Coronavirus, can be summed up in two words: “stay home.” I don’t know about your school district, but my kids were sent home from school today with packets of work to chip away at over the next few weeks while we practice the other two words that will surely become synonymous with 2020: “social distancing.” 

My question is simply this: how do those of us with more than we need practice social distancing and social responsibility at the same time?

The truth is that working from home is only possible for those of us with the luxury to do so. What about those of us with jobs in the service industry? What about people who work in construction or maintenance? Not to mention doctors, nurses, medical technicians, and every self-employed American out there! Or even more relevant for this discussion, what about those of us with no homes at all? 

I’ve worked for a nonprofit called New York City Relief that does outreach to homeless New Yorkers for almost ten years. We provide a meal, new Bombas socks, hygiene supplies, and most importantly, we connect people to the things they need like housing applications, SNAP benefits, and a lot more. We believe that each person we serve has intrinsic value and unsurpassable worth. They are not freeloaders. They are survivors. They are living each day with more resolve and dignity than most of us could ever imagine. Like Father Gregory Boyle, the founder of Homeboy Industries, likes to say, “we should stand in awe at what the poor have to carry, not in judgement at how they carry it.” 

And during this worldwide pandemic, we must remember that we don’t have to practice social distancing, we get to practice social distancing. 58,172 men, women, and children slept in a Department of Homeless Services shelter last night. That doesn’t include the vast number of men and women sleeping in Penn Station, Port Authority, Grand Central, the subways and sidewalks. The most recent estimate from HUD was that in 2019 there were approximately 78,604 people experiencing homelessness in NYC. That’s 78,604 people who can’t work from home. 78,604 people who can’t stay inside. 78,604 people who are forced by circumstance to exposure and risk. 

I reached out to a friend of mine who works with one of the biggest outreach programs in NYC to ask if there was any protocol in place for our homeless neighbors who have symptoms that could be Coronavirus related. That is, what do we do if one of our guests has a fever or a dry cough? Where can they go? How can they self-protect? The response was that at this point, we are simply sending them to the closest emergency room or urgent care. We can’t send them home. We can’t tell them to self-quarantine. 

Another problem is that as a general rule homeless folks are simply more likely to get sick anyway and their immune systems are likely already weakened. This means that they are already vulnerable. One article in 2008 from the National Healthcare for the Homeless Council found that homeless people are three to six times more likely to become ill than those of us who are housed. 

So that begs the question, should we continue to serve at all, and if so, how? 

As an organization we have decided that while the risks are high, and the long term consequences are largely unknown, people still need to eat. We have experienced mass cancelations from volunteers and we are deeply concerned about our ability to afford to buy all the supplies we need to fill the gaps of closures and cancelations (not to mention keeping our outreaches supplied with the latest drug of choice: hand sanitizer). Nevertheless, we persist. 

We are making all of our volunteers (who don’t cancel) wear gloves at all times and we are asking them to change them every fifteen minutes. We are adding hand washing stations at every location, we are wiping down all surfaces every half hour, and we are setting up tables and chairs under canopies outside that spread people out as much as possible. We are also putting up signs about personal space and refusing to shake hands or hug anyone (which for our team is probably the hardest part). We are hopeful to bring in nurses or nursing students who will be equipped with forehead thermometers in order to check anyone we serve for a fever so that we can send them directly to the ER if need be. 

The truth is that we have an obligation to practice social distancing and social responsibility. One of our guests who came by our outreach today exclaimed, “Great! You’re open!” Lots of places that normally serve our homeless neighbors are going to trim back (and for good reason). But for those of us who are healthy and willing to serve, there are lots of people who could use a smile and a wave. There are lots of people who could use a hot meal and a new pair of socks. 

We are determined to keep showing up, but we need your help!

If you live in the NYC area and you are healthy enough to serve, please consider joining us! Email volunteer@newyorkcityrelief.org to sign up, or you can go to newyorkcityrelief.org/volunteer to learn more about our volunteer opportunities. Maybe you are connected to the hand sanitizer drug trade and you would like to help us by donating some of your supply. Please email us at info@newyorkcityrelief.org and write in the subject line “Hand Sanitizer Donation.” The other thing we need is money. Staffing these outreaches is expensive, and we need help paying for food, transportation, supplies, and gloves (lots and lots of gloves). Please consider donating by going to newyorkcityrelief.org/donate and sending in a tax deductible gift today!

Social distancing does not mean social abandonment. We can and should make sure that our vulnerable neighbors are cared for while also making sure they are safe. We must find the middle ground between doing everything and doing nothing. Out of an abundance of caution we should practice social distancing, but we should also practice social responsibility. These next few weeks are not going to be easy for any of us, but they will be particularly challenging for those who are at the bottom of the economic ladder. We must not forget them. We cannot lose our humanity in an effort to save ourselves. 

Maybe Our Kids Should Explain Homelessness To Us

One of the questions I get a lot when I do workshops or trainings around the topic of homelessness is, "How do I explain homelessness to my kids?" Usually this question comes from parents who live and work in areas where homelessness is self-evident. Occasionally it comes from parents who are planning a family trip into the city and they want to get out ahead of the inevitable questions that will come up as they walk from point A to point B.

The truth is that kids intrinsically know what a lot of us older, seasoned, experienced adults do not: homelessness is wrong and we should do something about it!

The fact that a fellow human being sleeps outside or doesn't have money for food, clothing, and other basic necessities is not how the world should be. As a Christian, I believe that God created the world “good” (Genesis 1). I also believe that the injustice I see all around me is not what God had in mind when the cosmos were spoken into existence.

Kids naturally understand when something isn't right and they want to know what we are going to do about it. 

At the same time, as parents we often fear the unknown, especially when it involves our children, and that guy sitting on the sidewalk with a cardboard sign is an unknown. We don’t know why he is there, what situations in life brought him to that point, and we hesitate to expose our kids to things that they aren’t emotionally ready, or mentally equipped, to process.

But sometimes, as parents, we need to worry less and listen more.

As many of you know, I spent the majority of my childhood in Yaounde, Cameroon. While there, one of my very best friends was a blonde haired kid named Erik. He and I were forced together by circumstances beyond our control and we quickly connected on the soccer field and the basketball court. Fast forward twenty-one years or so, he and I are still in touch. He and his wife, Sarah, support my work at New York City Relief and have even visited one of our outreaches in Manhattan when they were in town for a couple of days.

Erik reached out to me last week because he wanted to know what our policy was on kids volunteering with New York City Relief. I told him that we can’t officially bring someone to one of our outreaches who is younger than 12. He replied, “I thought I’d ask. My daughter has an obvious heart for the homeless. She’s 6. I figure this is too young for anything but it’s pretty incredible. She spots them everywhere and asks how she can help them. She prayed the other night that God would make a way for her to give them all houses and food.”

I replied to Erik by telling him he is describing a future Outreach Leader at New York City Relief! I also told him that I know kids who have put together packages of travel-size hygiene supplies like deodorant, soap, tooth paste, tooth brushes, and new socks to have ready to go in case they happen to meet someone experiencing homelessness.

Later that same day, Erik texted me again. “Bro, she didn’t waste any time! Told me we HAD to get some stuff for what she’s calling, ‘kindness kits.’”

And then just a few days later, Erik wrote:

“Juliet gave away her first ‘kindness kit’ today. She made Sarah turn around and go all the way back to give it to him. He was so grateful and she was thrilled! One thing that impacted her when she gave it to him was that he said, ‘Thank you for talking to me.’ She asked us what he meant by that (later to us). So we explained that many people just walk by and ignore them.”

She said, “That’s so sad. Don’t people know they’re people too?”

I don’t know about you, but Juliet is someone I want to follow. She clearly understands the issue of homelessness better than most adults I know. She sees injustice and inequality and is responding appropriately. Of course we want our kids to be safe! But we should never allow our fear of the unknown to get in the way of our kids’ resolve to make this world a little more like God intended.

Maybe instead of trying to explain homelessness to our kids, our kids should explain homelessness to us.

By Faith

It's often hard to know if you're really making a difference. 

I mean, when you show up to work everyday and you keep fighting the same battles again and again, it can start to feel hopeless. Pointless. Futile. 

I know, I've been there. 

I mean I've been working in full time ministry, as an outreach leader to men and women who are experiencing homelessness for almost 9 years, in a city where more people sleep in shelters than the entire population of 16 US capitals. 

How can I possibly make a dent?

What possible difference can I make?

There's a woman who comes to our outreach in Harlem. I’ll call her Samantha. 

I literally met her on one of my first days doing outreach. There was a fight that broke out on the sidewalk and I was attempting to de-escalate the situation by telling them I was going to call the cops. 

Samantha pulled me aside and yelled at me, “I know you're new, but don't ever threaten to call the cops. These guys dont care. They will come back here and shoot up this bus.”

I didn’t know if she was just being dramatic, so I said, “Fine! Then help me out!”

She did. 

She walked right up to one of the guys who was swinging and took him by the arm and walked him away. 

Samantha and I were instantly friends. 

She told me that she had a problem with crack and alcohol. She grew up in a nice area with a wealthy family, but it was a toxic environment. 

She started partying and then her life started spiraling. 

When I met her she was in the street, selling her body for drugs and surviving for the next hit. She would show up in the morning lucid and friendly, but by the time lunch came around she was nodding out, spilling on herself, and falling over. 

One time, she approached me and asked if we had any jeans. Since we dont have clothes at the Relief Bus, I went home, raided my wife’s closet and found several pairs. When I brought them to her the next day Samantha cried tears of joy.

Later that year, I found out her birthday was coming up, so I got her a gift card to H&M so she could buy her own jeans. We got her a cake and sang happy birthday. It was beautiful. She cried some more. 

A few years later, our entire staff celebrated with her when she finally got her own apartment. It was a huge deal!

We also found a way to get her a new mattress because her building didn’t allow tenants to bring used ones indoors for fear of bed bugs. 

But I still see her at the Relief Bus. And the victories we have seen quickly get swallowed up in the jaws of defeat.

A few months ago, I watched as she couldn't stand up straight for nearly 2 hours, because her addiction is still holding her in bondage. She lashed out at me for trying to convince her to go home. She still has problems. She still needs a miracle. 

9 years. 

And while she isn’t technically homeless anymore it's easy to think that she isn't much better off. It’s easy to think that I made no difference. 

If you are doing the work of God just so you can see the fruit of your labor, you will not last. If what keeps you serving the poor and fighting injustice is the perceived “success” of your ministry, you’ve already lost. We need to pursue victory. We need to fight for those who can’t fight for themselves. But it’s so easy to get disheartened when the problems are so huge. It’s so easy to measure our efforts with the scales of progress and come up short. 

And this applies to every area of our lives no matter where you are. 

Maybe you’re in a job that just feels all wrong. Maybe you’re in a relationship that seems to be stalled. Maybe you’re dealing with an addiction that you cannot beat. 

The hope we have as a community of faith is not in the gradual improvement of society. The hope we cling to is that Jesus will use our efforts to make a difference in this world whether we see the progress or not. 

The fact is, God doesn’t call us to be successful; God calls us to be faithful. 

“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for. By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible. By faith Abel brought God a better offering than Cain did. By faith he was commended as righteous, when God spoke well of his offerings. And by faith Abel still speaks, even though he is dead. By faith Enoch was taken from this life, so that he did not experience death: “He could not be found, because God had taken him away.” For before he was taken, he was commended as one who pleased God. And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.

“By faith Noah, when warned about things not yet seen, in holy fear built an ark to save his family. By his faith he condemned the world and became heir of the righteousness that is in keeping with faith. By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God. And by faith even Sarah, who was past childbearing age, was enabled to bear children because she considered him faithful who had made the promise. And so from this one man, and he as good as dead, came descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as countless as the sand on the seashore. All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth.”

“People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. Ifthey had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.”

‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭11:1-16‬ ‭NIV‬

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.”

‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭12:1-3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

My friends, we are not called to be successful. We are called to be faithful. 

I cannot fix my eyes on the realities of pain and poverty in this world and continue to live by faith. The author says, “fix your eyes on Jesus. The pioneer and perfecter of... faith.” 

So my question is simple: what are your eyes fixed on? 

If your gaze is fixed on success, outcomes, progress, even forward motion, you will constantly find yourself frustrated and stuck. Our world is broken. But we are a people of faith! What is broken can be restored! What is dead can be resurrected! We must aim for Jesus, and trust that outcomes and metrics will be accomplished along the way. Because if we aim for outcomes, we will grow weary and lose heart. 

By faith we see a world where homelessness and addiction are dead and gone. By faith we see communities coming together across racial, socioeconomic, and cultural lines. By faith we see a world where we love our neighbors as our selves.

So fix your eyes on Jesus, and keep on walking. In spite of opposition, in spite of losing battles, in spite of perpetual failure, fix your eyes on Jesus because one day, by faith, you will see just how much of a difference one person can make.

Get Home Safe

She was sitting at one of our tables eating her third plate of pasta. A white lady with curly brown hair, she was skinny. Sickly skinny. Her coat looked like it was three sizes too big and her hair was matted against her face. Other than looking like absolute crap, she seemed in good spirits. She had managed to find her way indoors with a hot plate food and a new pair of socks. 

The event is called Don’t Walk By. It is an annual collaboration experiment in New York City that is run by several Jesus-centered organizations that exist to help people escape the perils of homelessness. Every Saturday in February, hundreds of volunteers walk the streets of Manhattan looking for men and women with no place to sleep. Then the volunteers invite anyone who seems interested to a church fellowship hall where there is food, emergency supplies, and direct service providers who can help people get off the street. 

That’s where I come in. I have been doing outreach in New York City for years and one of my primary areas of expertise is navigating the bureaucracy of social services. I once helped a friend’s daughter get admitted into a New York City detox within twenty-four hours by getting her evicted, fired, and transported across state lines. It worked. And yes, that is sometimes what it takes to help someone qualify for services that might save her life. 

“Josiah, can you help my new friend. She wants to get off the street.” A volunteer led me to the table where she was sitting. “This is Josiah, he helps people in the street connect with resources.” The volunteer was already explaining the situation before I could say hello. The chair next to the skinny white woman with an extra large coat was empty. 

“Do you mind if I sit?” The little things make a big difference.

Too many people make assumptions about homeless folks that negatively affect their ability to help.

One of the biggest problems is autonomy. Homeless people are often told where to go, what to do, and how to go about it. People who want to help assume that homeless people are willing to be helped and then everything just goes sideways. I always ask if I can sit down before actually joining someone at a table or on the sidewalk. 

“Of course.” She gave me a big smile. 

“Like this helpful person just said, my name is Josiah. What’s yours?” Another helpful place to start when you’re engaging someone in the street is simply to introduce yourself. 

“Becky.” She replied. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, Becky. Tell me a little about your current situation.” I always try to make it clear that I am not interested in anything other than what someone is willing to share. I have been with many people when they are doing intakes into shelters and rehabs where they literally ask questions about their medical history, criminal history, relational and religious history all within five minutes of learning their names. Sometimes, less is more.

“Well, I am sleeping in the street. I am a heroin addict.” She said it very matter of factly. Like she was saying, “I’m a pisces.” Or, “I’m a mechanic.” She then proceeded to lift up the sleeve of her massive coat and she showed me the track marks on her arms that were still actively bleeding. “I want help, but I can’t go to the hospital.” 

“Oh yeah? Why not?” With heroin and homelessness, it’s likely the hospital would need to be her first stop. I could try to find a different option, but it wouldn’t be easy.

“I’ve been kicked out of every ER in New York City. I can’t go back there.” 

“Bellevue?” 

“Yep.”

“Beth Israel?”

“Yeah.”

“Metropolitan?” 

“Yes.” 

“Damn.” She wasn’t kidding. There are more hospitals that I could try, but her unwillingness to give those a shot meant it was going to be an uphill battle. “I don’t suppose you have medicaid do you? A benefits card?”

“Nope. I got robbed in the train. And my medicaid is restricted to Bellevue. I won’t go there.” I could hear the resignation in her voice. I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to pull a rabbit out of the hat in this case. 

“So your medicaid is restricted, you don’t have ID, you’re shooting heroin, and you won’t go to a hospital?” I was mostly just thinking out loud. 

“I know. I don’t think there’s anyone out there who can help me.” 

“You’re not making it easy for me, that's for sure!” I said it with a big smile on my face and she laughed with me. Making this kind of joke is risky in some situations, but humor can be relational gold when all someone knows is isolation and judgment.

“Would you be willing to try going cold turkey?” I knew it was a long shot. Cold turkey means just stopping outright. No medications, no tapering, no time to adjust. Just a long dark leap off the ledge of despair in the hopes of landing on your feet and preferably not in your own vomit. 

“Nope. I tried that and I ended up getting so sick I thought I was going to die. Look, I know I am a hard case. I told the person who found you that there was nothing you guys could do. But she insisted. I am just grateful for the meal and the socks.” She smiled again. 

“I really, really wish you’d let me take you to a hospital. I'll walk you in. They will have a really hard time kicking me out!”

Her smile this time meant that I was playing with the edge of her patience. You can't make someone do something they are unwilling to do.

And if you try, every credibility chip you've earned will be leveraged on the table of the experience that he or she has when they call your bluff and you take them to the ER. I was newer at the time, but I wasn't born yesterday. 

I folded. “Can we at least clean up your arms?” 

“Absolutely.” My wife was volunteering with us that night and she is a nurse. I got her attention and introduced her to Becky. Within a few minutes they were best friends. Chelsea cleaned up the bleeding and put on some bandages. My wife told her about our lives while she worked and Becky asked lots of questions about where we lived and what we like to do in our spare time. She loved hearing about our beagles and shared about her childhood pets that she had before her life had gone to hell. 

She stayed until the very end. I tried to convince her to spend the night indoors at one of our programs for just one night. She declined that as well. When we were all done, I walked her to the door of the church and tragically realized that it was pouring outside. It was raining buckets. Hard. Most of the volunteers were collecting their umbrellas and running full speed to the subway platform a few blocks away. 

“Do you want me to get you an umbrella?” Becky was literally walking out into the pouring rain with no place to go and no plan on how to get there.

“No, thank you.” She said. 

Then Becky turned back to look at me and gave me one more smile, “Thanks for everything. Get home safe, Josiah.” 

“You.. too…” I choked on the last word. It’s just what you say. But as Becky walked outside into the pouring rain and disappeared with no dry clothes, no hot shower, no private roof and no bed to crawl into, my heart buckled with shame. Shame for my provision, shame for my warm bed, my family, even my dogs! “Get home safe,” means so much more coming from her than any goodbye I had ever received. I would get home, sure. But my response to men and women stuck in the streets would never be the same. 

Dreams and Selfie Sticks

I want to share a dream that I had.

I was in Paterson at an outreach in an overgrown outdoor shopping center of sorts. It was like an outlet mall, but the shops were all boarded up. There were lots of people hanging out. Homeless folks were sleeping on benches and playing games on tables.

We had a volunteer team from Grace Church with us but there was another group that was going to meet us on location. I took the time to brief the Grace team with some basic outreach rules and expectations for the day, but the other group just jumped right into the action when we arrived. I didn’t have time to give them any training.

There was a guy who met us there who had served with us many times before. He was an older white guy.

He carried a selfie stick.

He would walk up to our homeless guests and snap a picture with them without asking for permission or getting consent. I noticed it happening, but for some reason I didn’t really think anything of it. Then a guest, a regular, approached me in tears because “someone” had taken a photo of her against her will.

“Excuse me. That man in red just took my photo,” she said. She was a strong, dignified African American woman. I knew in my dream that she was a leader in her community and a force to be reckoned with. And one of our representatives had just humiliated her.

“I’m so sorry,” I replied. “Please tell me who it was so I can go delete the photo.” She just shook her head.

It wasn’t the photo that she was concerned about, it was her autonomy.

In that moment he snatched it away, and there was no action as simple as hitting the delete button that could change it now. She just walked away in tears.

I scanned the crowd of guests and volunteers and then I saw him again. This time, he was walking up behind a guest who was clearly intoxicated and holding the selfie stick out in front of his face, smiling.

Click.

The man he took a photo “with” could barely stand. I heard the woman who had just left feeling violated in my head, and anger swelled up inside of me. I don’t like yelling at outreaches, it makes everyone edgy. But in that moment, I didn’t care. I yelled across the noise of the outreach, the chatter of conversation and the music that we were playing on our bluetooth speaker.

“Hey! Don’t take that picture!” There was something inside of me that was breaking.

The man was wearing a red shirt and a bandanna. He was having the time of his life. He was shocked that I was yelling at him. He was confused.

“What?” He said. “He’s an alcoholic, he won’t remember it anyway!” His response hit me like a punch in the gut.

“Walk with me.” I put my arm around his shoulder and walked with him towards the edge of the outreach. “I didn’t get a chance to brief your team when you got here did I?”

“No. But I have been out here plenty of times.”

“Ok. Here’s one of the rules that we apparently never told you, we never take photos of people without their consent. Ever.”

“But he was an alcohol…” Clearly, I was the one who didn’t understand.

I interrupted. “Do you have a Facebook account?” The selfie stick said it all, of course he had a Facebook account.

“Yes.” He was curious where I was going with this.

“Well, how would you feel if I found you on the worst day of your life, took a photo of you, and then posted it on my wall without asking for your permission?” The point landed. Revelation started in his eyes and then moved down throughout his extremities. His shoulders sagged and he dropped his hands. Subconsciously, he started to put his phone into his pocket.

“I have never thought about it that way,” He said. He was shaking his head.

“And another thing. That is not an alcoholic.” Now he looked confused again. “If our Gospel means anything, then that man is the embodiment of Christ himself. In Matthew 25, Jesus says whatever you have done for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you have done unto me. Unto me.” I repeated it. “That means that in some strange, mystical way that “alcoholic” died for your sins and for mine. And I will be damned if I allow you to portray him as anything less than dignified, majestic, and beautiful.”

As I said these last three words, my eyes filled with tears and my voice cracked.

“That is not an alcoholic,” I managed to say again. “That is Jesus!”

I turned and saw one of our guests nodding out at one of the tables. “And that is Jesus.” One guy was selling drugs to his neighbor. “That is Jesus.” One lady with no idea of where she was danced in circles happily to the music. “And that is Jesus.”

“We owe them more than our pity. We owe them more than our compassion. We owe them our gratitude.”

Lifestyle and Lip Service (Originally posted: 2018)

“Yes, the day of the Lord will be dark and hopeless, without a ray of joy or hope. ‘I hate all your show and pretense— the hypocrisy of your religious festivals and solemn assemblies. I will not accept your burnt offerings and grain offerings. I won’t even notice all your choice peace offerings. Away with your noisy hymns of praise! I will not listen to the music of your harps. Instead, I want to see a mighty flood of justice, an endless river of righteous living.’”

Amos 5:20-24 NLT

This section of Scripture should make all of us stop in our tracks. What does it take for God to say, “Away with your noisy hymns of praise?” Jesus has a similar reaction to the money changers in the temple when he drives them out with a dramatic flourish and declares, “My house will be a house of prayer, but you have made it a den of thieves”(Matthew 21:13)!

Jesus also says to the Pharisees in Matthew 23:23 “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former.”

I don’t think it can be denied that historically, Christians have often decided that we would rather do religious things than religiously practice what we preach.

In James 1:27, we read:

“Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.”

I am a sucker for a really good musical worship experience. I have a vivid imagination and I have deeply connected to the divine through song. I used to play in a worship band at a church  in New Jersey and Sunday morning was sacred time for me. I met with Jesus on that stage almost every single week.

At New York City Relief we almost always have a time of musical worship on our way to the outreach locations. We play songs of praise to glorify our Savior and we leverage the power of music to empower our spirits and our bodies as we make our way to serve our homeless neighbors.

It is not uncommon for volunteers to express that our designated “worship” time is one of the most powerful and spirit-filled experiences that they have ever had. I would agree. In spite of all my memories of meeting Jesus at church, at conferences, or at concerts, there is something dynamic about crying out to God as one is literally hurtling through traffic and tunnels to engage and love those who are hurting and hungry.

So what is it? Why is it so special? I’m convinced that the answer is found in the words of the prophet Amos. Worship is only as powerful as the God being exalted. And there’s no getting around the fact that our God has a soft spot for those who experiencing poverty and homelessness.

I believe with all my heart that musical worship that is combined with physical compassion, always carries more weight.

I think there are lots of communities of faith that offer talented musicians and brilliant song writing.

But the truth is that writing the name of Jesus into a chorus or a cleverly constructed bridge will never impress the one for whom all music was intended like a life of humility and service.

So should we just skip the singing and just worry about serving the poor? That would completely miss the point. A life that is exclusively focused on serving those with less financial stability will ultimately lose its capacity to live a life of generosity, unless there is an ongoing and overt declaration of dependency to the one through whom all things are given.

Singing about who God is helps us remember who we are, and the fact remains that our service to the poor will always be more effective and empowered in combination with musical worship than it is without.

So once again, we are left with words of Amos. We need to remember that worship without justice is unacceptable to God. But justice without worship is unsustainable for us.

We are called to more than concerts and conferences. If we are going to be the Church that Jesus dreamed of, we have to make sure that we line up our lifestyle with our lip service.