Tag: teens opposing poverty

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Heart, Mind and Soul Part 3: William’s Story From Served to Servant

This is the third in a series of posts about where the solutions to homelessness truly begin.  They are not in the opportunities, training or services offered to homeless people.  They are in the hearts, minds and souls of the homeless themselves. The longer I spend in ministry with these amazing people, the more I learn of the importance of attitude and that nothing else we do to address their challenges will work if their hearts, minds and souls are not in the right place.

To read the first two installments, click on the links:

http://teensopposingpoverty.wordpress.com/2012/09/17/heart-mind-and-soul-part-1-jeffs-story/

http://teensopposingpoverty.wordpress.com/2012/09/24/heart-mind-and-soul-part-2-davids-story-believe/

His street name was “Black”.  He was homeless for over 12 years.  Drugs and alcohol were his life, but on Sunday afternoons when the youth volunteers from Teens Opposing Poverty (TOP) came to serve, he was always straight and sober.  For years, I just made small talk with him.  He spent most of his time talking with the teens.  Several of them became friends with him.  It was a few years before I found out his real name was William.

Then in 1995 something terrible happened.  William almost lost his life in a fire.  As he lay half-conscious on a hospital gurney, he watched his cousin die.  That horror was followed by 6 months of skin grafts and the loss of his left leg. He had a breathing tube stuck down his throat for so long that it paralyzed half his vocal cords.

After he got out of the hospital, William spent nearly three more years on the street until he was able to secure Social Security Disability.  It was during these three years that he went from being someone we served to one of my best friends.  He was, and still is, one of the most humble people I know, but he also began speaking with the deserved authority of someone who daily had to live with pain that most of us could not imagine.

When he spoke to our volunteers, William wielded his testimony like a knife cutting into our complacent hearts. He helped us to see his struggles and shared with us his belief that God saved him for a reason. In telling his story, he let the youth know that they were here for a reason, too, and that God can use even the bad things in our lives for good.

I’ll never forget the day we helped him get into his first apartment.  He stepped inside and closed the door, turning the lock several times.  Then he flipped the light switch on and off and finally looked up at the ceiling.  “Look,” he said, “No stars.” He hasn’t been homeless in more than 13 years since then.  But unlike many who get off the street, William kept going back and keeping in touch with the people he used to live with.  Little did I know what a valuable asset he would become to TOP because of that.

In the weeks and months that followed, William met us on every homeless ministry trip we took.  He was great with the teens, taking the shy ones under his wing until they were comfortable enough to start talking to the people we served.

As his confidence grew, he offered suggestions on things we could do differently, other sites where we could serve and better ways to connect with our homeless friends.  I wasn’t the only one who recognized William’s growth and willingness to assume responsibility and assert authority.  The teens did, too, and started turning to him when they had questions.

When TOP was able to hire staff, William became the coordinator of our homeless ministry in Washington, DC.  Now he develops new Street Ministry Outreaches and shares his powerful testimony with churches and other groups.  He went from being one of the homeless guys to a ministry professional.

I haven’t just seen this scenario play out in William’s case.  Giving those we serve a chance to become servants is a crucial part of our ministry.  Everyone has gifts to give, talents to use and faith to share.   When people have an opportunity to contribute, they hold their heads a little higher.  They remember that they can make a difference.

We must remember that we are in ministry WITH the poor, not to them.   Let’s not get so wrapped up in giving to others that we fail to give ourselves a chance to receive.  Understanding this one simple principle can bring out the best in all of us.

God’s grace to you,

Steve Jennings, Executive Director

www.TeensOpposingPoverty.org

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Heart, Mind and Soul Part 2: David’s Story – Believe

This is the second in a series of posts about where the solutions to homelessness truly begin.  They are not in the opportunities, training or services offered to homeless people.  They are in the hearts, minds and souls of the homeless themselves. The longer I spend in ministry with these amazing people, the more I learn of the importance of attitude and that nothing else we do to address their challenges will work if their hearts, minds and souls are not in the right place.

To read the first installment, click on the link: http://teensopposingpoverty.wordpress.com/2012/09/17/heart-mind-and-soul-part-1-jeffs-story/

The small group of middle-school girls laughed as they stood next to the imposing statue of Commodore John Barry in Franklin Square.  They had come to Washington, DC to serve homeless people, not expecting the entertaining encounter with David.  He was funny, engaging and held them in rapt attention.

Little did I know at the time that the forming friendship between this homeless man and group of girls would change his life.  David was trapped in the downward spiral of alcohol and crack cocaine addiction, but he was always straight on the Sundays we came to town.  I was glad he was there because he was so good with the young volunteers of Teens Opposing Poverty.

Over a dozen youth groups were involved in our DC ministry at the time, but David connected in a special way with this group of middle-school girls who served at the park every other month.  Over time, he began to see them as his “little sisters.”   In between the teasing and laughing, they built him up and made him feel special.   Just before he entered a rehab program, they encouraged him and told him that he could beat his addictions.

In other words, they believed in him.

David held tightly to their belief because he couldn’t yet believe in himself.  In late 2004 he entered a rehab program.  It wasn’t the first time, so he had little expectation of any lasting change.  After he completed the program, he got a job doing building maintenance.  I didn’t see him for several months.  The girls asked about him, and I told them that I assumed he was working.

When I saw David again in the spring I asked him how the job was going.

“I lost it,” he said. “I fell off the wagon and missed too much work.  But don’t tell the girls!  I’m clean again and I’m going to do my best to stay that way.”

Since then, David has experienced setbacks that would knock the most stalwart warrior off his horse, but he kept pushing.  He never gave up.  Although his self-confidence was shaky at times, he made a turn in his life.  Someone believed in him when he didn’t believe in himself.  His self-talk went from “why bother” to “it’s worth a shot” to “I can do this” all because he bought into the words of encouragement from some girls still too young to drive.

What they did for David cost nothing but their time, but it was one of the most precious gifts he ever received.

David Williams is now the Director of Teens Opposing Poverty’s Washington, DC homeless outreach.  He believes he can make a difference in this world because someone believed in him.

God’s grace to you,

Steve Jennings

Executive Director

www.TeensOpposingPoverty.org

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Facing Hell Alone

Our group of volunteers from Teens Opposing Poverty (TOP) pulled up to the motel for a midweek ministry trip. We dodged raindrops as the youth played with the children who lived there and the adults handed out toiletries, paper products, cereal and other needed items.

From a room near the end of the building, a man walked slowly, unsteadily and painfully towards us. His lanky frame was stooped. Sometimes he winced as he took a step. As he got closer, we could smell the alcohol on his breath and see the haze over his blue eyes. We welcomed him and introduced ourselves to Donald.

After a few minutes of conversation he told us that, just four days earlier, he was diagnosed with bone marrow cancer. The doctors told him there was nothing they could do. He had six months to a year to live. Tears welled up in his eyes as he told us about the pain in his body and his heart. He was grieving.

“I’ve been drinking” he said. “I never drank much before, but it helps to take away the pain. I know you’re Christians. I’m a Christian, too. But it hurts. It really hurts.”

We gave Donald some things he needed and slipped him a bag of cookies. He smiled as he hid them under his shirt and made the short, painful journey back to his room. A few minutes later, he shuffled slowly up the sidewalk to rejoin us. He stayed with us for over an hour, drinking in the love and fellowship of his new friends.

As we got ready to leave, he gave us all a hug. The things we brought him were a big help. The rent at the motel consumed all of his income, so he was grateful for any other help he could get. But he told us that spending time with us meant a lot more than the stuff.

Donald was facing a living hell of pain, fear and grief. Until we showed up, he faced it alone. Nobody should have to face that kind of hell-on-earth alone. An hour, or even a moment, of knowing that somebody cares can impact a person’s life in ways we can’t imagine.

Of all the things we do in TOP’s ministries, sometimes just being there for a person at that all-important, God-appointed time when they need a friend has the greatest impact on everyone involved.

God’s grace to you,

Steve Jennings
Executive Director
www.TeensOpposingPoverty.org

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What I Learned from My Dog

Mandy the Little Lady

As the vet was preparing the injections that would end her life, our dog, Mandy, laid her little head on my hand.  With tears flowing, my wife, daughter and I were all gently petting her as she took her last, small breath.

 Mandy had fought a cancerous nasal tumor for a year.  The veterinarian had told us she might last 6 months if we gave her a high-dose radiation treatment.  We refused, and took a natural course that kept her happy and content until the last couple of weeks of her life.  Oh, she had some rough spells, but she would always bounce back. 

 Finally, dental disease we couldn’t treat, combined with the cancer, brought her to a point where she could only eat a little bit at a time.  She began to lose weight quickly, but still was our bright, cuddly puppy.  It wasn’t until the last few days of her life that she grew despondent. On the last day, her expression took on a distant sadness, and she sought out hidden places to curl up and die.  Before we put her in the truck for her final ride, she let us know that she had made her decision about life.  How could we not honor that?

Like most dogs, Mandy loved her family.  Every time we came home she acted like she hadn’t seen us for months even if we had only been gone an hour or two.  If we did something that hurt her, she quickly forgave us like nothing had ever happened.  She loved attention and food more than anything in the world.  A few pets and a full belly was all it took to make her happy.  It makes me want to re-think my desires in life.  Maybe I want a bit too much.  I’ll admit that I might want more than a tummy rub to experience the richest joys in life but do I really need all the stuff I think I need?

 During her illness, Mandy taught us how to face adversity with courage, taking it in stride. Even on her bad days, she would still come up for petting and greet us when we came home.  She didn’t stop trying to get the most out of life just because she was going through hard times.  Mandy looked for, and discovered, every little positive when almost everything around her was negative.

 But the greatest lesson Mandy taught me was a trait she possessed that was rare even for dogs. She loved ALL people.  When Mandy was young, we kept one of Lindsey’s little friends with us for a weekend.  I have to confess that the child was incorrigible the whole weekend.  At one point, I heard Mandy squealing in pain and ran in the next room to find Lindsey’s friend pulling as hard as she could on her ears.  I know a lot of dogs would have would have tried to bite or attack to protect themselves.  But not Mandy.  She never made any attempt to hurt that child.

 God loves all people, regardless of how they look or smell, whether they’re nice or nasty, rich or poor, liberal or conservative (although some of you may disagree with that last one).  My little Mandy demonstrated that kind of love more than any earthly creature I have ever seen.  She never judged anybody and would show love to everybody.  That didn’t make her much of a guard dog, but it sure endeared her to a lot of people.

 So as I take these sentimental moments to reflect on the life of my little dog, my prayer is that I can learn to love all people half as much as she did.

 God’s grace to you,

 Steve Jennings, Executive Director

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What Difference Do We Make?

Yesterday, I did a Q&A during the Youth Sunday Service at St. Andrews Presbyterian Church. One of the teens asked me this question: “What difference does TOP make in the lives of the homeless?”

I can’t remember my exact words, but here is the gist of my answer with a few things I wish I would have said:

TOP helps homeless people in two ways. First, we meet material needs by providing food, clothing, toiletries, packs and bags and other needed items. Over the years we have learned of things that are constantly in need, such as socks and underwear. We take these simple articles of clothing for granted, but they are often the very essence of human dignity for someone living on the street. People on the street also need help with transportation. In Washington, DC, the homeless can get three meals a day IF they can get to all the places that serve. Most of them can’t or won’t spend the time and energy it takes to get to meal programs if they have to walk. In 2007 we surveyed over 100 homeless people, and 68% ate only one meal a day on a frequent basis (3 or more times a week).

In my opinion, our focus on offering hope, friendship and encouragement is even more important than meeting the material needs. Something as simple as eye contact, a smile or a touch on the shoulder can mean the world to a homeless person. All week long they are herded like cattle or ignored. It’s dehumanizing. I have spent days and nights on the street with my homeless friends. Most of the time, people just walked past, deliberately turning their attention away from us. Even during these short stints on the street, I could feel my sense of worth fading. Something as simple as a smile and “how are you today?” was very uplifting.

No job training program, drug or alcohol program or any other program is going to work for homeless people without hope and believing that they can succeed. This is a huge, and often overlooked, obstacle to success. It takes consistent encouragement and an investment in their lives to instill this hope in people who have been downtrodden. It requires a relationship.

So what does TOP do? We meet physical needs and we are agents of joy, encouragement, grace, friendship and hope. Does it make a difference? You bet it does. Just ask our friends on the street and the ones who have made it off.

God’s grace to you,

Steve Jennings
Executive Director

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The New Invisible People – They’re Closer Than You Think.

You pass by them all the time and yet you probably never gave them a thought. I know I didn’t. They’re invisible, you know. Or at least they were to me until I discovered them. But even though you don’t see them you can probably find them in most towns and cities in the U.S. Who are they?

They are the “motel homeless” who live in low budget motels that offer weekly and monthly room rentals. O sure, they have a roof over their heads, but can you really call that a home? We’ve seen as many as 9 people living in one room. Imagine what that would be like day after day.

These motel homeless people work at temp jobs, low wage jobs, short term jobs or no jobs. Some are disabled or elderly. Others have injuries or conditions that aren’t serious enough to qualify for disability, but make it more difficult to find a job. Most of the ones who work are at jobs where they don’t get paid if they don’t show up to work. If they get sick, they’re in trouble.

Even in a good week, the room rent eats up 80 -90% of their income. Some weeks they come up short because they continually have to choose between rent, food and medicine.

Just like homeless people on the street, they defy stereotypes. I have met former business owners, published authors and people with college degrees at these motels. And, just like their less educated neighbors, they are subject to the great equalizer of hardship.

In the last two years I can’t count the number of motel homeless people who said to me, “I never thought I would end up like this.” It seems that once they get knocked down to living like that, one thing after another goes wrong to keep them there. For example, Christina and Michael had already been at one of the motels longer than they had planned when Michael was rushed to the hospital vomiting blood and with blood sugar levels of over 300. His recuperation will take a while. Until then, Christina, with two small children, is frantic with worry about what to do.

Most of them pay more in room rent than they would if they had an apartment, but because of job instability, bad (or no) credit and the inability to put together the money for a security deposit, they are stuck until they can grab that extra blessing that lets them make the move.

Yet despite the hardships, the people I’ve met in these motels have shown me an incredible resilience and faith. I have seen a tenacity and toughness that inspires me, and I see the the hand of God working on my heart as I learn anew the lesson of gratitude for all things. The people we serve at these motels are so grateful for some laundry detergent or toilet paper that I am humbled and ashamed of myself for the things I take for granted.

Since Teens Opposing Poverty began its motel ministry in 2009, I have been inspired, heart-broken, and blessed as I have shared in the lives of these wonderful people who are no longer invisible to me. I pray they will no longer be invisible to you.

God’s grace to you,

Steve Jennings

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Immeasurable Outcomes

“Measurable Outcomes” has become a buzzword in the world of grant writing and securing support from major donors and corporations. They rightly want to know that their donations and grants are making a difference. So if you can say that your shelter was able to provide beds for 30 more homeless people, you would have a measurable outcome to report back to the donor.

But there is another side to outcomes that can’t be quantified so easily. How do you measure the hope you have given homeless people by helping them begin to believe that they don’t have to spend the rest of their lives on the street? How do you quantify the change in perceptions about poverty and homelessness that you plant in a volunteer? How can you place a concrete value on a new sense of justice and compassion aroused in a teenager?

In over 20 years of working with poor people and volunteers of all ages, these “immeasurable outcomes” are the ones that most clearly define Teens Opposing Poverty. They can’t be placed in charts or graphs, yet they bear witness to a very real impact on the hearts and minds of scores of people.

When teens decided to use money they had set aside for a fun outing to pay the security deposit so William Daniels could get into his first apartment, he returned their kindness by volunteering with the Washington, DC ministry. Now he is on staff and directs that ministry.

Reggie had given up trying to get off the street after suffering a seemingly unending series of setbacks. After two months of encouragement by young volunteers, he tried again and was finally able to “beat the street.”

Marcel was bitter after losing his job and home and not being able to find work for over a year and a half. A smiling, fifth-grade girl interrupted his epithet-laden rant about his situation. As she looked him in the eye, she handed him a simple hand-drawn picture. He looked down at it, returned her smile and said, “If I had a refrigerator, I’d put this on it.” As she walked away, Marcel turned from us to wipe away his tears. When he turned around, he was a different man. Gratitude and hope had found their way into his heart. In that one precious moment an 11-year-old girl changed his whole outlook on life.

I’ll admit that it’s more difficult for us to secure some financial support because we don’t have enough “measurable outcomes.” That’s OK. In my book, a few changed lives are worth the sacrifice.

God’s grace to you,

Steve Jennings

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When It’s All You Have Left

I never cease to be amazed.

Last Sunday a group of brave people ranging in age from 9 to, well, almost as old as I am, spent an afternoon in the cold to conduct Teens Opposing Poverty’s first homeless outreach in Lynchburg, Virginia. We wanted to be a blessing to people who could carry their life’s possessions on their backs and had no family to visit on Christmas day.

We took a little Christmas tree, some Christmas music, cookies, hot soup (it was delicious), hot drinks, water, gift bags with toiletries in them, clothes and wool blankets. Throughout the afternoon a steady stream of people came by. Some lived in tents. Others lived at the Salvation Army Shelter across the street. Still others rented a room or apartment, but the rent ate up almost all of their income. They were all grateful for the gifts we shared.

A lot of the people we served stayed out in the cold with us. We had great conversations and made new friends. It was a successful “TOP Trip”.

In two different conversations that day I heard something that I have heard on many TOP Trips over these last 23 years, and each time I hear it, I am moved and amazed. We were talking to people who had experienced tragedy. The obstacles they had to overcome to get off the street were daunting. They had lost almost everything.

But their faith was strong.

It was elemental.
It was powerful.
It was simple and pure.
God drew close to them.

Their relationship with Jesus had reached a depth that far too few of us experience in this life. When they were dealt the blows that put them on the street, they could have walked away from God. But they didn’t. They ran to Him. They were stripped of everything except Jesus and found out He was all they really needed. That was their message to me.

As I heard them proclaim their faith, I thought about Christmas. Not the Christmas of cathedrals, or silver bells or shopping malls. I thought about the Christmas in Bethlehem. I thought about God in the flesh lying in a manger.

It was elemental.
It was powerful.
It was simple and pure.
God drew close to us.

This Christmas I pray that each of us may experience the closeness to Christ that these precious souls have shown to me. May we all live our lives knowing in our hearts that Jesus is all we need. For that is the greatest gift of all.

Merry Christmas.

Steve Jennings

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Arms Flailing, Head Wagging

We saw him from two city blocks away.  The tall, gangly, slender man sat on a retaining wall that bordered a small plaza along Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, DC.  His head wobbled.  He flailed his arms about so wildly they didn’t even appear to have bones in them.  His face was contorted, and his tongue darted in and out of his mouth like a snake. His eyes looked everywhere and nowhere all at the same time.

 The youth who were with me bringing food to homeless people in the area were spellbound by him and were confused about what to do.  Should they approach him?  What would they say?  They talked nervously among themselves as we drew closer to him.

 Finally one of them asked me what they should do.

 “Give him a sandwich,” I said. “But show it to him first.”

 The man continued his gyrations, but his eyes showed a glimmer of lucidity as we crossed the side street and began walking in his direction.  Three brave teens broke from the group and approached him tentatively as they held out a sandwich.

 “Would… would you like a sandwich?” one of them asked.

 The man’s eyes locked on the sandwich.  With startling speed he dropped his arms, pulled his tongue back in his mouth, smiled and said, “Thank you.”

He looked at the group of youth, making eye contact with most of them.  They looked at him and drew closer.  I stood back as he ate his sandwich and spoke with the teens for 5 or 10 minutes.  I didn’t hear what they said and didn’t need to.  This was their moment of discovery.  Things aren’t always as they seem.

 They gave him another sandwich, said goodbye, and we headed down the street to serve other people.  On the way back we looked over at the retaining wall and there he was, arms flailing, head wagging, tongue jumping.

 Did he have a mental illness, or had he been hurt so often that he figured out how to keep people away from him?  I guess we’ll never know the answer to that. 

 But we do know this.  He responded to love. 

 He dropped his façade when somebody cared enough to break into his world, offering him something and asking nothing in return.  For at least that moment in his life he stepped out of the safe place he had created in his mind and took a chance on connecting with other people. 

That’s what the love of Jesus does.  It breaks down walls.  It pulls people outside of themselves and into a moment of discovery that maybe – just maybe – there is something better.  May God grant us the power to share that love with our world.

God’s grace to you,

Steve Jennings

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If He Can Be Thankful We Can Be Thankful

His “roof” is the sky.  His “walls” are his blankets and tarp.   His “heater” is a metal grate that belches out foul-smelling, pneumonia-inducing steam.  Three days ago his backpack (with all of his worldly possessions) was stolen, and he is left with the clothes he is wearing.

 A few months ago he was laid off from the job where he had been working for over a year.  The pay wasn’t great, but the work was pleasant and it kept a roof over his head.  He remembers that time especially on the cold nights.  Unfortunately, the search for a new job has come up empty.

 He has no family to turn to, no network to hold him up.  His friends are on the street with problems of their own: addiction, mental illness, despair, broken families and relationships.  He eats once a day when the Salvation Army food wagon stops near his “house”.  Sometimes he gets up and walks the 20 blocks to the place where they serve breakfast.

 With his mouth full of the hot dog we had just given him, he smiles at us and says, “thank you.”   Then he begins to list the things he is thankful for:  people who care enough to bring him food and clothes, his friends, warm places to go during the day, shoes with no holes in them, medical care when he gets sick, hope for the future, a friendly smile, a kind word, a country where he can make his own way, and Jesus who never abandons him.

 The man I just told you about is one I have seen many times.  He wears many faces.  The color of his skin is often different.  Sometimes he speaks fluent English.  Sometimes he’s difficult to understand.  Yet I have learned a valuable lesson from him – always be thankful.  No matter how bad things get, there is always something we can find in our lives to stir up gratitude in our hearts.

 Gratitude is the enemy of despair.  Thankfulness gives us the power to press on.

 May every day be your Thanksgiving Day.

 God’s grace to you,

Steve Jennings