Setting Prisoners Free

Hospitality; it's a strange word, a misunderstood word, a word that often seems old-fashioned. Yet, when I delve into scripture, I see how  hospitality is a radical concept, an essential part of following and honouring God. I use the word "radical" because God's hospitality goes well beyond being the perfect host by making a scrumptious meal in a tidy house for our friends, family, and worthy guests. It goes far beyond the order, cleanliness, and good manners that seem to be equated with hospitality.   Radical hospitality welcomes strangers, foreigners, and those judged and seen as unworthy. It has this messy, ugly, and chaotic quality about it. It asks us to be "all things to all people". It embraces those cast aside and oppressed, those living in squalor, and those who wreck our plans. Radical hospitality says to our neighbours, even the most annoying and aggravating neighbours, "you are always welcome here". Radical hospitality goes well beyond ...

I came across a highly intelligent sick man today who lives in an overgrown and crowded yard in a rundown caravan. It ain’t his fault, he’s just trying to survive. He lives in squalor, he’s been neglected, his body is suffering, and he needs assistance from the ground on up, but despite all this, he’s a trooper and a picture of resiliency. The journey has begun to help him move from homelessness into a safe healthy home.  I came across a pleasant old man today who sleeps on a mattress under a bridge in an affluent part of town. It ain’t his fault, he’s just doing his best to survive. His anxiety causes him to freak out and have outbursts of anger, making it difficult for him to navigate beyond the next minute, but despite all this, he greets me with a smile. The journey has begun to help him move from homelessness into a warm dry home. I came across a shy young couple today who must quickly move out of a sibling’s house. It ain’t their fault, they’re just attempting to start their ...

Focus on the good, not the bad! Look for the good in others, not just the wrongs they've done. As Bryan Stevenson says, "Each of us is more than the worst thing we've ever done". I have tried to live this way, but admittedly, have not always succeeded. I have tried to not dwell on the worst, to not let them ruminate in my head. I have tried to forgive, to see unchartered potential and help people redeem those worst moments into something good, something redemptive, something that can bring healing and hope into this world. I've spent over 2 decades working with those experiencing homelessness, where most people I encounter are labelled or judged negatively. They are called and deemed crackheads, bums, criminals, thugs, and the like. Sometimes that's all they hear. Sometimes that's all we want to see. What saddens me is, that when we focus on the negative, it tells people they are worthless and they struggle to see their own worthiness. When we focus on neg...

The sentiment angers me that homelessness in New Zealand isn't real, or that the people experiencing homelessness shouldn't receive help because there are more services in Aotearoa than in places like Chicago (where I have lived and worked for over 20 years). Homelessness is real wherever someone lives. As I've met many of Waitakere's rough sleepers, as I've heard their stories, as I've seen their deteriorating health, I know the struggle is real. The pain is real. The trauma is real. I see the harm being done! I have also seen and helped people move off the street and go into a home. I've seen the elation of having a bed, warmth, and a toilet. I've seen their health improve. I see the reduction of harm. Yesterday, I spoke to an elderly gentleman we helped a couple of months ago. He was sleeping in his van and often struggled to breathe. He caught pneumonia and was hospitalized. He is now in his own place and that roof over his head has worked wonders. E...

I listened to her story. It was so heartbreaking. It grieved me. Immensely!  How could someone survive so much trauma, so much pain, and so much rejection?  Crystal was homeless when we first met. As a beautiful trans woman, her journey was and continues to be, riddled with so much agony and suffering. Tearfully, she shares snippets of her story, from that youngster cast out of her home and left to fend for herself, to the abuse and suicide attempts and arrests that have followed her relentlessly, to the black eyes she tries her best to disguise today, I marvel at her resiliency. Her scars reveal a life that should only show up in nightmares. My grief is coupled with anger as Crystal reveals that much (not all) of her displacement, rejection, and abuse has been done by the hands of those who claim to follow and be disciples of Jesus. Because of their thuggery, she believes the Almighty God is also a displacing, rejecting, and abusive thug that wants no part of her.  Chris...

Our lives are beautiful and daunting contradictions. Whatever paths we travel on, we are simultaneously clobbered and gifted.  During the past couple of years, my family and I haven't been able to escape this reality. Relentless heaviness and enormous pressure have been weighing us down, yet in the same breath, we are being lifted up and carried, lightening our load and allowing us to enjoy the beauty that surrounds and embraces us.  We have screamed for normalcy, but have continually been hit with abnormalities. We have cried for simplicity, but complexities never fail to intrude. We wish that our lives were painless, but we never find ourselves free from all the trauma and agony that haunts us. Though despair tries to imprison us, we must learn from history and observe the legacies of people who suffered through deep dark shadows and didn’t let their situations grip or overpower them. They lived in the contradiction of embracing love, hope, and joy through it all. ...

Matt wandered into Church early with his bulging backpack, sat in the back row, with his usual cup of coffee. He always had too many layers on, that would extenuate the pungent whiffs of cigarettes, marijuana, and his musty clothes. It was an adventure sitting next to Matt, as he lived in a tent down the street, and therefore, struggled to stay awake throughout the service. Matt was someone who didn't know how to talk quietly, so when he was awake, he would whisper to me with his loud foggy voice, followed by his impulsive croaky laugh. He would cause heads to turn and faces to frown as he'd tell me of his need to smoke a blunt, how he was going to get retribution on some fellas that "did him wrong", while always asking me about my family. Whereas Matt struggled to control his impulses, he did his best to be respectful. I don't know how much he heard, but the one thing I do know is he loved Jesus, he knew he needed Jesus, so as an act of faith, he faithfully came ...