“I am the vine, and you are the branches. If you stay joined to me, and I stay joined to you, then you will produce lots of fruit. But you cannot do anything without me (John 15: 5 CEV).”

I read the passage from John 15 that talks about Jesus being the true vine at the Broadway Community Dinner last night. Before the “Christ Story” moment, I was outside negotiating with two angry pit bulls and their owner. Before the dinner started I went outside to lay the relational groundwork for the inevitable confrontation of me having to remove the two dogs. I started with a gentle, “hey, when we start the dinner can you move your dogs?” There will be a lot of people coming and going up and down the stairs.” My request was made as the Rev Rick Reynolds, and I picked up garbage around a group of folks surviving on the steps of the church. I held the trash bag; Rick had the grabber. I wore gloves, Rick went natural and bare-fisted. There was a person in a sleeping bag blocking the front door. I asked if they knew who was napping and if they could wake him up before we started. A few people yelled, “That’s Toby. Wake up Toby.” I thanked them and thought, I can yell too!

While we were inside setting up for dinner, I could hear the dogs freaking out. I prayed with our volunteers and noted that the peaceful resolution of the two dogs was our main prayer for the evening. I went to open the door. Toby was still asleep and sprang to his fight. It was as if the smell of beef stroganoff had summoned him from the grave. The owner of the dogs also yelled at him to “move for the dinner.” The dog owner tried to wrangle the canines and needed help from her friend. People gingerly walked into the dinner as the dogs lunged, growled, and terrified. I went over to the friend, who turned out to be the owner of the dogs. She was getting high with a group of people and brushed me off. Eventually she came to move them. While this was happening the original woman who I thought was the dog’s human dropped a jar of pickles and began to scream in frustration. “Those pickles were eight dollars.” As I was cleaning up the pickles and glass, another guest offered to help. I told him I didn’t want him to accidentally cut himself. He responded, “what’s the difference if you or I get cut?” The woman I had been negotiating with walked back by me as I was hunched over on the sidewalk cleaning and said, “Thank you, I am so sorry.” I looked up, smiled, and said, no worries, sorry about your pickles.”

I went inside to read the “Christ Story” and pray. I shared how Jesus and God are one and intimate with each other and with us. When he says abide in me and I will abide in you, he is saying I am a God who is close and wants to be closer. I shared how the story reminds us that you can tell a good tree by the fruit it bears. It’s how you can tell who is a good branch and how isn’t. I told the room that they were all good branches. I prayed that we would all experience the God of relationship and intimacy. The God who knows us. The God of church step pitbulls. The God of broken pickles jars, and beef stroganoff. “I have loved you, just as my Father has loved me. So remain faithful to my love (John 15:9 CEV)”

Michael Cox

When I do outreach for Operation Nightwatch, I pass out water, socks, and snacks. Every month I receive a donation of two cases of Fiji water. The bottles are too big for me to carry on the street, so I usually put them in the trunk of my car and give them to a group of people in an encampment or RV. Last week it was in the mid-eighties, and I knew the bulky cases of fancy water would be a blessing. Sally, who lives in an RV with her boyfriend, asked if we had any more water. I told her that I had some in my car and that I would be back in a few minutes. She looked at her feet and thanked me. People say all kinds of things to homeless people and make all kinds of empty promises. “I will get you into housing if you agree to drug and alcohol treatment even though you have been clean and sober for ten years.” “Jesus will heal you if you participate in our “faith based” recovery program. It’s not rooted or grounded in science or medically assisted treatment, but we will pray for you and hope you don’t die when you go through withdrawals.” My motto is to under promise and over deliver. It turns out that twelve huge bottles of water can change your outlook and lift your spirit!

I returned with the box of water and Sally was surprised to see me. People say all kinds of things and make all kinds of empty promises to homeless people. I went through my corny dad routine, explaining how someone donates them and that my daughter likes to drink water out of a giant jar with a straw. Sally smiled and came out of her RV. She locked the door and sat down on the sidewalk. Her pants were unzipped because they were too small. In my effort to be observant, I didn’t want her to think that I was looking at her broken zipper. I think she perceived me as kind and not creepy. Sally took a deep breath, sighed, and asked if she could ask me a question. “I have been dealing with the same issues with the same people for forty years. I need the balance between good and evil to be corrected. Right now, the scale has tipped way over to the evil side. Can you ask people to do random acts of kindness for each other? Kindness is what we all need. Kindness can conquer evil.” I listen, agree, and promise to let people know about her request. I affirm her in her wisdom and for the millionth time, find myself in the presence of the living God on the street. I tell Sally about Galatians 5 and that kindness is the fruit of the Spirit the church seems to never take seriously. I offer to pray for her, and she is surprised again, “That would be amazing.” We bow our heads, and if I am honest, I pray the prayer to end all prayers! When were done, Sally smiles, looks me in the eye, and says, “Thanks that was really special.” She asks for my card, and I tell her to call anytime. I happen to have a ten-dollar Starbucks gift card that I give her as well. “Thanks, I was hoping to get coffee today!”

“By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things (Galatians 5:22-23).”

Michael Cox

I got a call from a man I don’t know. He left a voicemail detailing the trouble he was having in his apartment. Through whimpering and sobs, he described a spirit that was tormenting him. It was in his bed and had stolen his laptop and wallet. Recently, it came in through his eye, giving him a migraine, resulting in blurry vision. “Please call me. I really need your help. I have tried everything.” I received the voicemail while I was on vacation and decided to ignore this stranger’s plea for safety. I felt oddly peaceful walking to the beach with my family and not responding to this particular mental health crisis. After all, I was on vacation and even Jesus went away to a quiet place to pray. The next day while I was sitting on the sunny deck of our home away from home, reading, and drinking coffee, my phone rang again. He left another voicemail expressing a desperate need for help. I called him back and had a surprisingly reasonable conversation. Anthony had got my phone number from his building manager whom I had met years ago. A devote Catholic, the building manager asked me to pray for the curse that was on the building. Several people had died by suicide, and she believed there was an evil presence that had taken hold over the space and residents. Anthony talked with me about his problems, and we agreed I would visit him when I was back in town, I asked if he wanted to pray and if he thought that would be helpful. “Yes, please pray for me, I have tried everything.” We prayed and ended our call with respectful pleasantries. I was amazed that he didn’t ask me for a bus ticket, a cell phone, or accuse me of being an informant for the FBI.

A few weeks later, Reverand Rick Reynolds and I went to visit him. Anthony smiled as he led us into his tiny, subsidized apartment. A tapestry of Jesus with a crown of thorns hung over his window. The poster of a Lion taped above his bed along with the neon Lets Party sign made Rick and I feel like we were in the right place! Anthony had been burning sage in hopes of “cleansing” the space. We talked about mental health therapy and medicine. I offered the idea that it was good to have a team of people from a variety of disciplines to help us in times of need. That sometimes what seems spiritual can also be brain chemistry or a need to have some prescriptions reevaluated. Anthony said that he took anti psychotics and was a diabetic. He said he had told his doctor about what was going on, but it didn’t seem to go anywhere. After we prayed, Rick anointed his doorway with oil and prayed again, explaining that it wasn’t magic but symbolic of God’s love and protection. Earlier in the day, Rick pulled the anointing oil out of his pocket unaware of why he had it or how it ended up in his possession! We often don’t know what we’re doing or how we end up where we are either!

Anthony seemed relieved and smiled when I said that we had vanquished his apartment from the disturbing spirit and that if it happens again to know that he is safe and loved. Anthony calls me every few days to talk about the spirit’s return to his room and how he is being tormented. I listen, tell him that we can pray, and that mental health care is always a good idea. He thanks me, and asks me if what I have suggested will work. I let him know gently that, God loves him and that “I have tried everything.” “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ (Galatians 6:2 NIV).”

Michael Cox

As a street minister with Operation Nightwatch, I find myself invited into the most intimate and personal moments of people’s lives. As the world continues to spew hatred and propaganda about the poor, Jesus responds to those in need with the truth of compassion. He tells us that when the lost are found the heavens throw a party. That there is rejoicing and celebrating when the heart turns toward God and finds home. The people that I meet on the street know this to be true. They understand their suffering through the wounds of the crucified Christ. The story of a servant king who shares and participates in humanities suffering, reveals a God who is in solidarity with the marginalized. Jesus is the God who sees. Jesus is the God that doesn’t turn away from our pain. He stops and looks at all of us, bringing wholeness to the abandoned, rejected, and abused. The empire and its quest for power can never see, hear, and know the goodness of this God. Consequently, the powers and principalities of the world require a spirit that is dull and demoralized. Demanding that our attention be focused on their endless stream of lies, sanctifying injustice, justifying greed that creates poverty, desensitizing and numbing us to the reality that Jesus weeps for the city, that Jesus looks with compassion not with drone bombs. The kingdom of God has been called an “upside down kingdom.”  The greatest among us being the least of us. The weak inheriting the earth, receiving double for what was taken away. There is hope with the promise that the glory of our future will be greater than that of our former. With God, being last means being first.

Recently, I attended a new community dinner. There were white tablecloths, baskets of homemade bread, real china plates, silverware, and all kinds of people. It reminded me that God dwells with us when we stop and consider each other as fellow human beings. As all equally created in the image of the living God. I met elementary school aged soccer players, retired military service members, people struggling with addiction, and ate way too much homemade bread! All of my conversations were warm, mutual, and sincere. There is something incredibly healing about being honest and truthful about ourselves while eating with strangers. Very quickly, the truth of our lives becomes the material of relationship. Our stories become relational assurance that were not alone, that we are seen, known, and heard. The harshness of living in a system based on violence and competition is removed and we experience resurrection in the midst of suffering. We get to see and hear the Jesus that connects all of humanity with divine mystery. May the stories of Jesus, wake us all up to his heart of mercy and compassion so we can listen and understand.

“The reason I speak to them in parables is that ‘seeing they do not perceive, and hearing they do not listen, nor do they understand.’ With them indeed is fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah that says: ‘You will indeed listen, but never understand, and you will indeed look, but never perceive. For this people’s heart has grown dull, and their ears are hard of hearing, and they have shut their eyes; so that they might not look with their eyes, and listen with their ears, and understand with their heart and turn— and I would heal them.’But blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear.Truly I tell you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it (Matthew 13:13-17).

Michael Cox

I was on call for the fourth of July weekend and available in case there were any emergencies. I showed up to our dispatch center on Friday night ready to drive our guests to shelter. As I was walking to pick up the van, low and behold a faithful volunteer appeared ready to drive! I gave him the keys and “posted up” in our meal center. I talked with a man in line who was from Denver. It was his first day in Seattle and he was surprised to find out how close Nightwatch was to Lumen Field and T Mobile Park. We talked about sports and the Bible. He was able to get a shelter bed and thought Nightwatch was, “pretty wild!” I agreed and told him that we were ground zero for people experiencing homelessness. The van was low on gas, so I hopped in with our volunteer and filled it up between shelter runs. When we returned, I talked with a woman who stays in our shelter. She tried to get me to take her to the gas station so she could get a box of special creamer for her morning coffee. She was delightful to talk with, wildly offensive, and was clearly planning ahead! There was a group of guys who asked if I was a priest and thanked me for helping them find free clinic resources. They loved the food! Hot links, potato salad, and watermelon. I told them that I was glad the food was good and that I loved to see the people serving the food smiling and excited to be at Nightwatch. They agreed. “You can tell when people put time and care into food. Everything tastes better when your kind!” I prayed with a man out-front that I have known for a while. He was drunk and said that he hadn’t slept for five days. Hopefully, he found a safe place to sleep it off. A man came by showing the staff a picture of a missing woman on his phone and asked if we had seen her. We hadn’t and encouraged him to file a police report and told him some other places to look. He claimed to be her “friend” and I hope he was. A former resident in our senior housing program came for dinner with his buddy. It was great to catch up and chat. After I brought over some adult diapers and Bibles from my office I stood out front, looked toward the sky and thanked God. There is no place I would rather be to celebrate the fourth of July!

Michael Cox

I find the sacred hidden in…

The sacred is found with and among the homeless. The presence of the Divine is transfigured and exalted in relationship with the poor and marginalized. The loving presence of God manifests in tangible and mystical ways in the lives of the exiled. It is as if the creator of the universe comes to breathe life into his alternative kingdom, knowing that the church and its practitioners will never really understand what, “my kingdom on earth as it is in heaven” really means. As I avail myself to people in great need, I find a God less concerned with charity, good works, or other well-meaning descriptors of service. I find a God whose identity and character are expressed in a mercy and justice rooted in unwavering welcome and inclusion. A God who desires the mutuality of giving and receiving, the broken body of Christ, shared and remembered. The Spirit of this God is abundant and nourishing, offering shade and shelter to all who seek rest under the branches of eternal community. Coming to rest in the love of this divine presence, the sacred hides under the very nose of our culture’s gardens of transactional judgment. The hidden sacred love of God is less like a manicured lawn and more like a compost bin, churning and restoring our old stories and narratives into something new and useful for our ordinary lives.

“Come, everyone who thirsts;

come to the waters;

and you who have no money,

come, buy and eat!

Come, buy wine and milk

without money and without price (Isaiah 55:1 NRSVUE).”

What do you want…

I want to be free of all thoughts rooted in other people’s assumptions and expectations. I want to be at peace with the reality of life and my role in it. I don’t want to be distracted and miss the blessings that are upon me. Contentment is found when we accept the reality of God’s love. We accept ourselves when we receive the reality of God’s love. We find contentment when we stop and notice the still small voice speaking truth to power. Freedom from the false self that was formed from the voice of abuse and neglect. Freedom to walk in the power and boldness of Christ. To be covered and baptized in the words of God the Father, “You are my beloved son with whom I am well pleased.” I want to be known and understood. I want to give voice to those who are voiceless, transforming the belief that some of us don’t have anything to say. Transforming the belief that some of us are not entitled with privilege and anointing. Freedom from the notion of deservedness. Some are invited and others are not on the guest list. To be fully myself in all circumstances. Sensitive, funny, and at peace. In the words of 80’s hair metal, I want to rock!

“I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead (Philippians 3:10-11).”

What do you notice on your walk…

Today I went on a walk from my office to the St Francis House. I passed the streetcar, elementary school, and corner store. I was delighted to see that you could buy a cup of coffee from the East African deli for $2.50! I was blessed to see kids playing hide and seek with the recess monitor. When I hear kids running around screaming and yelling on a playground, I am reminded of how silent elementary schools were during the Covid lock downs. Playgrounds should be cathedrals of joy and discovery. There are men in reflective vests directing traffic on 12^th Ave. I enjoy the construction workers that pause and acknowledge me. The clergy collar I wear is its own traffic cone, observed, dismissed, or respected. There is a weird box in front of the St Francis House which I assume is a bizarre donation of something they will probably have to throw away. I am greeted by a homeless man who tells me he isn’t feeling well. He asks me what I’m up to. I tell him I like to get coffee, hang out and chat. I tell him about walking pneumonia as he washes up with hand sanitizer. The prayer of St Francis is next to the counter and above the bookcase. It provides a stark contrast to the five cans of black beans and bottle of salad dressing on the community pantry shelf. Staring at the prayer, a woman asks to join me, and we talk about her desire to discern God’s will for her life.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

I am amazed…

The amazement I feel when I am praying on the street is indescribable. Years of waiting and listening to the Holy Spirit in front of bus stops, alley ways dumpsters, and grocery store stairwells, I find myself surrounded by the love of Christ. It’s in these places of desperation and loneliness that the God that seeks out the lost manifests. The kingdom of God is to be found among the meek, hungry, and persecuted. The words of Jesus transform wounds into resurrection, containers of healing, held together by sharing, remembering, and participation. Body broken for us. Everyone invited into the divine mystery. Everyone created in the image of God. The cross of Christ. Shared suffering. Ours is his and his is ours. Compassion means to suffer with. Touch my scars and find truth. The truth of trauma, The truth of healing. The living word is vulnerable empowerment, enabling us to walk through the doors of neglect and abuse, navigate the hallways of deception, and find rest in the upper rooms of his eternal kindness. Amazing!

“I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me (John 14:6).”

Michael Cox

 The day after Easter a homeless friend of mine stumbled to the ground in front of our Community Dinner. His friend carried him to the front door and said, “they will give you a hot meal” and hurried off on his bike. I held his head and gently placed him on the sidewalk. I knew that he was in the process of overdosing and was close to dying. We gave him three doses of Narcan and called 911. A large crowd gathered as we waited for the paramedics. The paramedics came, gave him two more doses of Narcan, and monitored his progress. The ambulance lights, and all the chaos, caused the entire community to be overwhelmed. People began to share their own experiences with death, addiction, and trauma. In the middle of all of this, I read the post resurrection story of Jesus. Jesus appears to his friends who are hiding behind locked doors and receives their doubt, inviting them to touch his wounds. Jesus responds to their fear with “peace be with you.” My friend lived and reminded the community that Jesus revels himself when we roll away the stones that guard our hearts and weep together at the tomb.

Michael Cox

Working with homeless people has taught me about the vulnerability of God. A God who announces his kingdom under the shadow of empire, violence, and oppression while riding atop a borrowed donkey. As I was walking to church on Sunday morning, prepared to preach, serve communion, and pray with and for the congregation, I saw my homeless friend Steven. He was asleep in the doorway where he usually finds rest and shelter. As I approached, three middle school age boys pulled up on scooters. I had a bad feeling in my stomach but didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. As I got closer, one young kid pulled his pants down, laughed, and urinated on my friend. I yelled, they laughed again and sped away. I bent down and asked Steven if he was ok, if he wanted a coffee. He said he was fine and that he would see me at church. Steven came to church. The Elders that were in charge of the slides were late. I preached on the Good Shepherd, that God is a God that leaves the ninety-nine in search of the one, rejoicing when we realize we are worth being found.

Michael Cox

One of my great joys in life is to read Scripture with people living on the street. Every week, at our two community dinners, I share a Christ story from the Gospels. Something special always happens when the words of Jesus are spoken. The public street liturgy that happens around a shared meal, on the sidewalk, and in a parking garage, embodies the love of Jesus in concrete and practical ways. The words of Jesus become incarnated and enfleshed in the lives of the people that have ears to hear them. Last month I read the Beatitudes, the blessing of Jesus to a room full of people experiencing poverty, homelessness, and severe freezing weather. When it’s 32 degrees outside and your homeless, hearing that Jesus blesses the poor, the humble, the meek, the hungry, the crying, and the grieving, makes hope a reality.  His words speak to you and your situation, declaring that the Kingdom of God belongs to you! As I began to read the Sermon on the Mount, the entire room went silent. A holy hush fell over us as we listened to the promises of Jesus. That we belong to him. That we will find comfort. That we will be treated with mercy and called his children. When I finished reading. I prayed and concluded like I do every time I pray for my friends living on the street. That everyone would be safe and warm and protected from hypothermia and frostbite. That no one would die outside. Life in the name of Jesus. When I finished, the entire room erupted with a hearty and unifying Amen!

Jesus’ disciples gathered around him, and he taught them:

 God blesses those people who depend only on him. They belong to the kingdom
    of heaven!
God blesses those people
who grieve.
    They will find comfort!
God blesses those people
    who are humble.
The earth will belong
    to them!
God blesses those people
who want to obey him
    more than to eat or drink.
They will be given
    what they want!
God blesses those people
    who are merciful.
They will be treated
    with mercy!
God blesses those people
whose hearts are pure.
    They will see him!
God blesses those people
    who make peace.
They will be called
    his children!
God blesses those people
who are treated badly
    for doing right.
They belong to the kingdom
    of heaven.

 God will bless you when people insult you, mistreat you, and tell all kinds of evil lies about you because of me. Be happy and excited! You will have a great reward in heaven. People did these same things to the prophets who lived long ago.

Michael Cox

My friend Jenny is a new mom! I met her four-week-old son last week. This is her third child and first boy. The father wants nothing to do with being a parent and Jenny is nervous about raising a son alone. Standing outside, talking over two hot togo boxes of chicken and biscuits from the Community Dinner, Jenny tells me that she is shifting her attention to her health and the care of her son. “The time spent worrying about what the dad should be doing is time spent away from all the good that is in front of me.” We talk about being in the present and taking care of ourselves. Jenny fainted in her apartment a few weeks after giving birth, went to the hospital, and was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. Her mom was watching her newborn but had to go to work. Jenny had to leave the hospital early to be with her son and was discharged against medical advice. We talk about feelings of depression and anxiety that can sometime happen after giving birth and if she wants to talk with any medical professionals. I gently offer the doctor and nurse that volunteer with me as possible options. Jenny respectfully declines and walks off to her apartment thanking me for the meals and for talking. As jenny walks off, I think of the miraculous donated stroller that she is using. The stroller appeared last week and felt less like a donation and more like an angelic pronouncement. I think of the Christmas story, the manger, and the radical message of hope and love that is birthed through a young homeless woman. Merry Christmas!

“In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors (Luke 2:8-14 NRSV)!”

Michael Cox