As a social worker, I encounter many individuals facing grief, trauma, or persistent, soul-destroying poverty. People fall under the weight of it all, and sometimes the fall is spectacular.

What I love most about Central as a community is how we respond to the troubles of our time. Central is a place where, whatever the fall-a relapse, a theft, a lie-your place in a loving community is secure. It takes time for people to trust the staff and other community members, as we are all more accustomed to judgment and shame when our values and actions don’t align.

At Central, we do more than forgive; we are committed to the “seventy times seven” we are called to, forgiveness without limit, and to the constant offer of welcome to prodigal daughters and sons wandering in the desert, longing for home.

This might seem hard, but it feels natural. After ten years of “being Central,” there is a calm confidence that we can love people back into community, no matter the causes and conditions.

During this Easter season, global events seem to be in conflict with the values of kindness and love. There are wars and cruelty, both domestic and foreign, that I am powerless to change. That makes what we can do at Central even more important: to keep modeling and even doubling down on love and forgiveness and care for each another.

Advent at Central is markedly slower. We are waiting, as scripture invites us to do. It can be hard not to jump ahead into the stress and worried planning for the new year. The intentional, calming pace of this season, and the weekly sermons, have been particularly helpful for me in a time of anxiety and fear.

At Central, however, waiting does not feel like an individual task. We are not waiting in isolation. We wait as a community. We wait for the miracle cure, for the apartment, for the call back after the job interview, for the long-awaited appointment. Together, in this season of waiting, we hold the heaviness of life side by side as we wait and work for the promise of a world made new.

We wait and work, as Michael preached this week, together as companions in solidarity with our beloved community—a vision I will carry with me, offering the most perfect antidote to fear this Advent season.

The Bible teaches that true worship is more than attending church services or performing
religious rituals – it is reaching out to our neighbors and touching their lives in some tangible way. I have never attended a church that does that as powerfully and consistently as Central. The acceptance and love shown here is palpable. The first time I visited and saw the beautiful diversity of the congregation, I had this strange sensation that Jesus was also in attendance. As I learned about their community outreach – clinics , meals, clothing, showers, laundry, bicycles – I realized that dignity was also part of the services provided here. Those that we assist are not required to attend services, but are welcomed here and even encouraged to participate, giving them a sense of worth and belonging. It’s often the highlight of my week to see the pride on those faces as they serve the sacraments to those that have helped them. But Central is not just for the marginalized in our community. It is the place that rekindled my desire to attend church, a place that challenges and stretches my beliefs and has revived my theological curiosity.

Is it perfect? Not at all. It is often made quite complicated by all of this inclusion; it can be
messy and chaotic and stressful. Sometimes, we miss the mark, but often, as we stumble along this uncharted course, we notice the footprints of Jesus on the path right in front of us. I am proud and thankful to be a partner here.

On Sundays, in my front row at Central, I always encounter something beautiful. Not just now and then, but every single time. Sometimes I even lose track of what I’ve learned, when, or from whom—whether it was a pastor, a staff member, or another community member. Yet one message from Pastor Michael, shared in a sermon a few months ago, has stayed with me. It offered me a sustainable path in these difficult times: a new way of seeing those who cause harm, especially to immigrants and other vulnerable people. Their light—their humanity and compassion—is not gone, but buried so deeply that it cannot shine.

For the past sixteen years, I have served as a volunteer immigrant advocate in the Houston area. This past year has been especially hard. The shutting down of avenues for asylum, work permits, and nonprofit legal support, combined with the cruel rise in enforcement, feels like the very opposite of what a Christian community should model. Pastor Michael’s words gave me new language, a new lens through which to see those with whom I disagree. They are not evil. And maybe—just maybe—through my own acts of care and love, however small, I can help to uncover their hidden light.

When the Cardinals selected a new Pope last month, I could not have been more excited. I have been a Catholic Worker, full-time or part time, for the last seventeen years, and I needed, more than I realized, for the new Pope to keep the momentum towards more inclusion of the LBGT+ community in the Catholic Church. When I saw the white smoke and heard the name of the new Pope, Prevost, the American, I could barely contain myself!

In all my excitement of the days that followed, I thought often about how the Catholic Worker part of me feels right at home at Central United Methodist Church. It really shouldn’t. Most religious denominations and belief systems are exclusive, rather than inclusive. Don’t I have to pick one or the other?

But Central is different. It is as a place of radical hospitality. Just like the teachings of Dorothy Day, and the Catholic Worker Movement she started, radical hospitality means that all are welcome and all are valued. And at Central, it takes only about 5 minutes to realized that we mean that.

I want to tell you all my origin story.

I grew up in the pews. Church wasn't just a place we went on Sundays - it was home. I was in Sunday school, youth group, choir, mission trips like UMARMY, and even on the worship team. I loved being a part of it all. I loved serving, singing, learning, and being surrounded by people who felt like family.

Church was my safe space.

But as I got older, I started to feel a quiet tension growing inside me, something I didn't have words for yet. After high school, that tension became harder to ignore.

After high school, I realized there were no spaces for someone like me. I started to wrestle with a part of myself I had kept hidden. I prayed the gay away. I thought maybe God made a mistake. That led to depression, self-harm, and substance abuse.

I found a young adult group and started to feel hope again. I even felt called to missions and ministry again. I became close with many of the members, especially our group leader - who was also my mentor and friend. I decided to come out to her. She was going to be the first person I told. But the day I was supposed to share with her, I found out she had passed away. I was devastated. I came out to others, but the response wasn't what I hoped for.

Over and over, I found myself in churches where once people knew the truth, I was no longer welcome to serve. I was told I couldn't work with kids. I couldn't be on the worship team. I couldn't even run the slides.

Just a lot of....

I love you, but...

I love you, however...

We want you to stay, you just can't...

Through my experience - being excluded, silenced, and told I couldn't serve, I've come to realize something: I wasn't just looking for a church. I was looking for community.

I once read a reflection about how Jesus built community - not through comfort, but through crisis. His disciples didn't have homes or steady jobs. They had no choice but to depend on each other. They had to be vulnerable, to be broken together. That's how they became a true band of brothers.

And that hit me - because I've been through my own storms. I've had to walk away from places that said, "We love you, but..." I've hidden parts of myself just to stay in the room.

But Jesus didn't say, "Come to me once you've figured it all out." He said, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened..." He didn't shut people out; he welcomed them in.

That's why inclusion matters. Because real community - the kind Jesus modeled - only works when everyone is allowed to show up fully. When no one must hide. When love doesn't come with conditions.

I still believe in the Church. I still believe in the power of community. But not the kind that asks people to shrink themselves to fit in.

I believe in a church where no one must hide who they are to be loved. Where queer kids don't grow up thinking they have to choose between their faith and their identity. Where people are seen, celebrated, and called into deeper relationship with God - just as they are.

And I'm grateful to be standing here today, in a church that lives that out. You are creating a space where people like me can show up fully, serve boldly, and be loved unconditionally.

Thank you for letting me share my story. And thank you for being a community that reflects the radical, inclusive love of Jesus.

As one of Central’s lay delegates, I had the opportunity to attend the Texas Annual Conference for the first time last week. I did not grow up in the Methodist Church and have only been an official member since partnering with Central a few years ago. I walked into the Opening Worship service on Sunday night with no preconceived notions of what to expect. 

The theme of this year’s conference was “Reinvigorate” so the creative arts team kicked off the service with music and spoken word centered around reviving and renewing God’s call on our lives. The table of Central folks was wrapped in joy as we proudly watched our very own Ezra Bordelon share his talent and heart with everyone. Throughout the week, so many people approached us to compliment Ezra’s voice and leadership. I felt like I was part of a rock star’s entourage! It was a great reminder of how lucky we are to have his creativity every single week at Central. 

“Reinvigorate” was a fitting choice for the gathering as everyone is still adjusting to the recent split of the denomination. Almost half of the churches in the Texas Annual Conference chose to disaffiliate and join the Global Methodist Church in December 2022. Bishop Harvey’s Episcopal Address called us to reimagine the future of the church and to unite in our mission. She unraveled the familiar story of Lazarus in a way that I had never heard before.

On Monday, the lay delegates and clergy voted on ratification of four constitutional amendments. These amendments were approved by General Conference held in May 2024 but must be ratified by a ⅔ aggregate vote of conferences all around the world to become church law. These amendments related to regionalization, inclusiveness of the church, racial justice, and educational requirements for clergy members. For the past few weeks, your delegates from Central have discussed these topics amongst ourselves and have also reviewed materials from the Texas Annual Conference and UMC regarding these issues. We believe that the ratification of these amendments will be beneficial to the church. The results of the aggregate tally should be available in early 2026.

Pastor Julia co-chairs Reconciling United Methodists - Texas Conference (RUMTX), a group dedicated to the full inclusion of LGBTQ+ folks in the UMC. They hosted a Happy Hour event at Frost Town Brewery on Monday night where we were able to celebrate the progress of the church while also recognizing that the work is not over. I am constantly in awe of Julia’s dedication to this cause. I have watched her gently remind so many people that they are fiercely loved by God. She is a powerhouse of knowledge, goodness, and grace. (How did we get so lucky?)

Tuesday morning’s keynote speakers introduced us to the 3 Practice Circle model for navigating conversations. The three practices are: 1) I’ll practice being unusually interested in others. 2) I’ll stay in the room with difference. 3) I’ll stop comparing my best with your worst. The Central staff believe that this will be a valuable tool as we plan discussions among congregants, community members, church council, staff, and community partners. 

At the business meeting on Tuesday afternoon, Pastor Michael was surprised with the Eric Anderson award. This award is given by First Methodist UMC in memory of Pastor Eric Anderson. Eric had a magnanimous spirit, a selfless approach to ministry, the heart of an evangelist, a concern for all (especially the disenfranchised), and was a beloved team player among all with whom he worked. One young clergyperson that embodies these same characteristics is chosen each year to receive this award. Central’s table went wild on behalf of all of you! We all know what an amazing gift Michael is to our community and it was fun to see that acknowledged at the conference level.

We were also doubly delighted to see Mackenzie, our pastoral intern serving at Central, and Connor, a pastoral intern from Central that is serving at Bellaire UMC, be recognized for the work they are doing this summer. 

There were so many other special moments that took place throughout the week - retirement services, ordination services, more worship, and a LOT of business reports. I learned about so many programs that the UMC offers that I think that would be of interest to our community. I plan to highlight some of these throughout the year. Some of you may recall the Thrive markers that Pastors Julia and Michael introduced earlier this year. These five elements - Clarity, Kinship, Joy, Abundance, and Witness - stayed at the forefront of this gathering to remind all of us of our shared ministry goals. The staff at Central is committed to Thrive! and spent the day on Thursday vision casting and working to create a cohesive story that describes the work that happens here in each of us and in our building. 

If you would like more information on the amendments or any of the other conference news, please reach out to one of the pastors or staff. We would be happy to have coffee and discuss!

I have been pondering over Pastor Julia’s sermon this past Sunday. It resonated with me, the importance of rest in the making of a whole and fruitful person. Rest as both condition and necessity for growth.  

On a personal level, I have the luxury of rest. But the resonance I’m feeling is not about me, but for the 18 people moving out of homelessness at David’s House. The participants are going from no permanent shelter to two years of protected and safe space to renew and grow.
 
I may be biased because I have been a part of the development of this unique transitional housing project, but something remarkable is happening to the participants. My social scientist brain is already fast at work, trying hard to find a theoretical explanation, to quantify, to evaluate, to replicate what is happening; replicate this steady and rapid healing I see among so many of the participants.

Could it be that real rest, not the kind you get in a 30-day shelter full of jail-like conditions and a ticking clock, is what the human heart and mind requires? Is the generosity of time to rest in a caring and equitable environment what is needed to move forward again? Could it be that simple?

I’ll let you know!

Having majored in marketing in college, I am fond of a good brand as it can highlight the
fundamental values and essence of an organization. It is one of the reasons I was drawn to the tagline for Galveston Central Church, “Church Different,” reminiscent of Apple’s infamous “Think Different” marketing campaign. When thinking of a church as a place of community gathering, I view church as a verb to mean to love and serve everyone, to create a space where people feel safe and supported by those around them. This is what Galveston Central Church, and by extension, Grace Clinic, strives to do. Every other week, I am privileged to be a small part of the magic that happens at Grace Clinic, though to call it magic does not fully capture the tireless commitment and advocacy by clinic staff and leaders to connect our most vulnerable neighbors to the vital care they need. But even when it is challenging, this work feels and is magical. I was reminded of this today morning while helping Ms. Shellie Wolf and Ms. Amber Evans as part of the social work team at Grace Clinic.

“Mr. M,” a gentleman in his 60s, was the third patient we saw in the morning at clinic for a social work consult. When I first greeted him in the waiting room, I saw he had a white cane, recently given to him by the clinic to help him navigate his surroundings. Mr. M has a history of worsening bilateral cataracts and was finally able to be seen by ophthalmology just the day before. At the appointment, he was deemed a surgical candidate and scheduled for a phacoemulsification with lens replacement surgery the following week. From a provider standpoint, often times when a patient is scheduled for an appointment, there is little time spent addressing all the contextual factors that govern if and how they show up to the appointment, including their housing situation, financial status, and social support. Yet, for Mr. M, who is currently unhoused, visually impaired, and receives a small monthly income from Social Security, these were the issues that mattered most. To prevent delays in his surgery and the risk of further vision deterioration, he needed to complete an urgent financial assistance packet with supportive documents through UTMB to ensure appropriate coverage. He was also prescribed three different types of ophthalmic medications to take prior to the surgery, none of which he could currently afford. Moreover, there were concerns regarding transportation, not only to and
from the surgery, but also for the required follow-up appointments, and the need for a respite bed to facilitate a safe post-operative recovery.

Over the next hour, I witnessed the ways in which Ms. Wolf and Ms. Evans worked together to identify solutions to each barrier to care, leveraging their deeply rooted networks within the Galveston community to address all that Mr. M needed before he could enter the operating room as a patient next week. We helped Mr. M organize his documents as well as complete and notarize the financial paperwork, which he signed using a magnifying glass to see the text.

Emails were sent and calls were made to St. Vincent’s House and Salvation Army to arrange for rides and request a bed. Mr. M’s providers at Grace Clinic that day were also exploring avenues with the local pharmacy to obtain his medications at no or reduced cost. This complex coordination of care among social work, non-profits, and the medical team reflected the power and importance of interprofessional collaboration. It also reinforced how trust and relationship-building lay at the heart of community work; it was in part due to the connections established by Ms. Wolf and Ms. Evans through longitudinal, sustained efforts that we were able to swiftly and effectively plan for Mr. M’s pre- and post-surgical care by the time he left Central Church that morning.

When looking at UTMB’s OR status board, there are typically around a dozen cataract surgeries scheduled for a single day. It is a fairly routine surgical procedure that can take less than 30 minutes to complete. Yet, for Mr. M, this is a surgery that has the potential to be life-altering, providing him with the hope for improved functionality, mobility, and safety. He now has the opportunity to receive and attend the surgery thanks to the dedication of his team at Grace Clinic and Central Church, and that is truly magical.

Last week, two days before Epiphany, I had a (small-e) epiphany of my own. It was sparked in large part by Central’s ministerial staff. They get wide recognition for their transformative outreach with our brothers and sisters experiencing homelessness and hard times;  I wanted to assure them they were indeed transforming the comfortably-housed, well-fed, materially-satisfied folks sitting in the pews, too.
 
Do y’all remember those huge gumball machines they used to have in malls, where you’d drop a quarter in and it would spin around and around a huge funnel-thingy, faster and faster as it approached the vortex at the bottom, until it was ultimately sucked into the hole and a gumball fell out? THAT is as close as I can get to describing my trek with and towards God:  my quarter has been spiraling in tighter and tighter circles for decades. And last week, it dropped into its holey(holy!)-home with a breathtaking ping. I. got. my. gumball.
 
That needs some explanation.
 
I have spent my adult life trying to prove my worth by jumping on every available volunteer opportunity at previous churches: Sunday School teacher to meal provider to mission trip organizer to capital campaign committee (never again). I feel sure the resultant exhaustion and resentment I felt outweighed any contribution I made. I was striving to prove my worth. Ezra, Julia, and Michael have shown me a different way of being useful to the common cause, a way of honoring my natural abilities no matter how insignificant they seem to me.
 
In a recent Facebook post, Michael listed four principles that guide Central: lay-led, collaborative, reciprocal, and kinship. KINSHIP. This last one took my breath away as I fell, along with my symbolic quarter, into the vortex. I had never thought of my urge – my joy -- to connect with folks of all stripes as kinship.( And I certainly had never considered that it might be a spiritual gift of any worth.) Having what comes easily to me be identified as valuable to our shared Christian mission relieves a burden of inadequacy I have felt all my life. I only have to be who I already am…and that is enough.  (Thanks very much, Paul.)  With leadership from Julia, Ezra, and Michael, I look forward to more opportunities of being “enough” at Central.
 
May 2025 ring with the holy sound of falling quarters and gumballs for us all!

For more than a year, I have been taking photos of Pastor Michael’s shoes when he takes them off to preach. I don’t know why I started. I guess it felt like something that needed to be documented!
 
Now, however, it is much more. The shoes, usually left alone on the front row, have taken on a story of their own, a dual symbol of both the comfort of feeling at home and of being exposed and vulnerable to the elements. A perfect metaphor for what happens at Central, this radical way we welcome, care, and make ourselves vulnerable to the love of each other.
 
While I am certainly not going to walk around Central in my bare feet, the invitation to be
engaged in the messiness of life is everywhere and in everything that makes this place so special.

As the summer slowly ended in Galveston, I thought often about the few weeks we spent at Central, in the heat of the summer, with no air conditioning in the sanctuary. Even in the oppressive heat (I brought a thermometer that read 90 degrees), we carried on; business as usual! Really, can you imagine any other church doing the same?
 
But we are different. In so many ways, our unsheltered members and partners have shared with everyone the gift of resilience. They survive against great odds, and they brave the dangerous heat, so we can too-at least for a little while.
 
Like most places or agencies that do “good work”, the assumption is that help only comes from the top down; people and organizations with money and resources give to others that are without. More and more at Central, I see that this is not so. In flipping this old and disempowering model, we see power and influence differently. We know that in solidarity with people on the most precarious of margins, we still gain more in love, community, and strength than we give.
 
We will surely need this community we are fostering as we enter this post-election period of adversity and anxiety in our country. I plan to not only lean on this gift of resilience but also take refuge in how we make each other stronger. A great Central superpower that we can use to triumph over the certain hot temperatures that lie ahead.

*Trigger warning: This blog entry mentions suicide.

In our current sermon series “The Sacred Between Us,” we have discussed our neighbors. As we learn about our neighbors and how to care for one another, I can’t think of a more relevant instance to check on your neighbor.

September is Suicide Prevention Month. After reading about a couple of recent incidents I felt compelled to share. According to NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) Suicide is the 3 rd leading cause of death for people 15 -24. There are also numerous statistics about veterans, individuals with mental illness, the unsheltered population, queer population, and the incarcerated that are more than a little alarming. Check on your neighbors, reach out, text, call, write a letter, drive by, send a smoke signal.
Ask, ask, ask.

There are many demographics listed above. This means YOU ARE NOT ALONE! If you are struggling, please reach out. The easiest way is to call or text 988. A mental health problem is not a spiritual problem. Our mental health is just as important as our physical and spiritual health. They are cohesive in making the full person you are. Taking medication or going to therapy are not spiritual issues. If your thyroid was underactive and you could take a pill for it to function normally you would do it, correct?
So, what’s the difference?

There are many stigmas related to suicide. The words and thoughts about it need to change. In his book Depression, Anxiety, and Other Things We Don’t Want to Talk About, Ryan Casey Walker has some great insight.

People don’t commit suicide. People die from suicide. People commit murder and people commit perjury. People die from depression, or from pain, and from suicide. When you are grieving what is one of the most complicated of deaths, any inclination that what that person did in their last moments was criminal in nature must be avoided. These people aren’t weak, or crazy, or morally flawed. They are precious children of God who suffered an untimely sorrowful death. We should speak about these people with great respect, for who among us has suffered so greatly.

Please check on your neighbors.

It takes a village to raise a child. A phrase you've heard or even said numerous times.
What about an adult?  What does it take to elevate an adult? We don’t just raise
children; we raise our children to be adults. Last Tuesday, I had someone tell me they
had no idea how to be an adult. They had no life skills, that they were never taught
basic skills to be an adult. This absence had caused them to miss multiple opportunities
in their life. So, does it take a village (community) for adults? Yes, of course it does.
Especially if that adult was not taught basic life skills, or is still coping with childhood
trauma, or suffering from mental illness?

Community at its best is “home.” Home means different things each of us. Home equals
relationships and relationships can be complicated. William Paul Young puts it like this;
“I suppose that since most of our hurts come through relationships, so will our healing.”
Central is a home for those that are searching for a place to rest, heal, and call home;
even temporary. So, what does home mean?  As part of the U.S. Coast Guard, I have
spent months on ships underway. So, I have a different perspective of home than
others. This doesn’t necessarily make me more aware or have a better appreciation just
because I may have missed a few things. Just as our unhoused friends have a much
different perspective of home than I do. You can be humbled quickly any time you walk
through the red doors. There have also been many people up in “Amy’s Attic” (new
home ministry) that have taught me a few things.

We get a lot of different donations at the new home ministry. When people drop off old
household items, I see old grandma stuff.  I say to myself, “no one is ever going to take
that.” It will sit on the shelf for sometimes, quite a while. Then someone new who is just
getting their new place will cone upstairs to grab some household goods. They will start
walking around put a few things in a box and then they see it. “Oh my God, my grandma
had one just like this!” You see their faces light up, there is always a smile and
sometimes a tear. There is always an accompanying story that immediately takes them
to a place they haven’t seen or thought of in a long while. Just like that, part of an old
home moves to THEIR new home.

I see home in the stories.

During his sermon on Sunday (6/30), Michael talked about Central writing another book of the Bible. If this were the case, there would be a few chapters on community. This is undoubtedly one of the best things that Central does. In Genesis 2:18 God said it is not good that the human is alone. When Jesus started his ministry, did he do it alone? No, he gathered a community to help. I struggle with relationships. As an introverted, enneagram five, with a love language of acts of service, I can be distant. It is a little hypocritical for me to write about community, but it is something I can work on.

In Ryan Casey Waller’s Book, Depression, Anxiety, and Other Things We Don’t Talk About, he states there are four reasons why we need relationships and community.

1. Oxytocin – Also know as the love hormone. It can be released in the body during touch
or hugging. It can produce positive feelings and reduce anxiety. It also aids in trust.
Trust is important in all relationships. Now how important is trust to someone walking
through the red doors for the first time, an unsheltered person, someone struggling with
addiction, or someone that is in a cycle of despair?

2. Belonging – No one wants to be an outsider. I have heard Central called the island of
misfit toys. That island was still a place of belonging for that group. Support groups are
successful for this reason - you have something in common. Belonging is being seen,
heard, valued and safe. We belong to each other. Belonging keeps 9mm bullets in
offering plates instead of in guns.

3. Support – I do not like to ask for help. It can be difficult to ask or admit you need help.
Where would you be without the help and support of others? Asking for help is one of
the strongest things you can do. If you see someone missing a leg and they grabbed a
prosthesis, would you consider them weak? So, help yourself and others, see the
doctors, take the medication, see the therapists, and be happy and encouraging for
those that do.

4. Purpose – If I don’t know my purpose, I’m sure not going to be able to help you figure
out yours. Just remember, purpose in not your what, but your why. Out of all the
churches, why did we pick Central? Why do we choose to bump elbows with this rag tag
motley crew group of folks? One of the easiest ways to love your neighbor is to just be
there. You can give a smile, lend a hand, or sit alongside and say “wow, that really
sucks”. Hopefully during these times, we can find those that will be there for us too.

One of my favorite things about coming to Galveston is the Old Galveston Cemetery in the
spring. I love seeing the yellow flowers. I love seeing how they represent life amongst the
headstones. If you walk to a back of the cemetery, there is a section where the grass is cut. In this section the flowers never grow, and it lacks the beauty of life. If you cut the relationships out of your life, you will not have the beauty of the flowers in yours.

More and more, I recognize and take comfort in the balance I find in our church community. The invitation and the welcome to participate is so inclusive that our diversity of membership is something rarely seen in modern churches. We are young and old, queer and straight, sick and well, poor and rich, and the list goes on.
 
For me, this diversity of thought, life experience, and perspective creates a kind of place of spiritual melding, a place where I am more open to seeing and hearing the God of the Universe that loves us equally.
 
There is surely something transformative and inspirational about Central that I am always trying to understand, and maybe this is it. Maybe coming together in such welcoming balance, such diversity, our hearts and our minds find a new and more fertile ground to grow. Certainly, everything good and just feels alive and possible in this place.

A few weeks ago, some of the members of the church council did a walk around of the physical church to make a list of priorities for repair. Of course, Central is an old building and maybe not in the best of repair, however during the tour it became clear to me that our physical space is a hot mess! I could not even focus on where to start first. Thank goodness that some on the council are skilled in this area, so we will be fine, but it reinforced for me the difference between us and most churches in how we invest our time and resources. We invest in people, not property. Our money goes to resources and events and activities that support love and care and dignity for all those that attend and worship. Our building may need much work, but we have all the right investment priorities!
The person at the center of our investment priorities, the person that it affects the most, the one that must cope or adjust or work around something broken or missing is Beth, our Administrator. In all that she must do to keep the work of Central on track, Beth is also the person that is most likely to put her investment of time and care into people. She is the model for all of us to follow of how investing in another person pays the greatest of dividends.
 After Church on Sunday, we celebrated Beth, much to her surprise. As the floor was opened to people in the church audience to offer words of gratitude, we heard beautiful words of people that felt valued, over, and over in their encounters, people who felt like they were an asset, not a problem, even in their worst hour.
 Thank you, Beth for being our model.

I missed Sunday church service for three weeks in a row! Unusual since my husband and I started attending Central in 2021. I love the wonder and awe I feel each Sunday, and for one reason or another, my heart is always open and present to the love of neighbor that happens during each worship service. My grandmother would have called this feeling the Holy Spirit at work, and I know no better explanation.

I realized in my absence, however, that while Sunday is always a highlight, it isn’t the main attraction. Central has a way of pulling you in, of welcoming you in a profound way to care and love for others. Simply put, during the week, we work!  Each week at Central many people are served and receive lifesaving and life sustaining supports and care. There are meaningful small groups and deeper groups, creative and fun activities, church council meetings, and more.
 
Maybe our Sunday service at Central is most importantly a celebration of a week’s worth of service, love, and community, and a space where we can be healed, sustained, and prepared for the week ahead. I left this Sunday service filled with extra gratitude for all those that make each week’s celebration so beautiful and necessary for all the hard work to come. Thank you. 

Part of my professional work as a social worker is serving new immigrants just arrived to the United States. Although the “politics” of welcoming the stranger is increasingly difficult to navigate, especially in Texas, it is beautiful work. Maybe our leaders need to be reminded of the radical call in both the Old and the New Testaments to welcome the stranger, the migrant far from home.

 But for sure, at Central, we have not forgotten. In fact, we embrace it.
 
Just a few weeks ago, I heard a man sitting behind me before the Sunday service saying that when he comes to Central, “they don’t look at you like you’re crazy”. I wasn’t part of the conversation, yet I thought for days afterwards about all the ways that we practice the sacred act of welcoming to anyone that comes to the door.

Even more than this, welcome is extended to every member of our community. Regardless of appearances, beliefs, social class, or credentials, everyone that shows up is welcomed to take up the collection, to sing in the choir, to serve the sacred communion.

This act of welcoming, in all the ways that it is expressed at Central, makes everyone feel worthy and valued. Maybe that is why I keep showing up, with more and more eagerness. I feel welcomed.

Last week we examined the assumption that homelessness is caused by the personal deficiencies of the homeless themselves. We have been operating with this paradigm for decades. Judging by the rapid increase in homelessness, this focus on individual behavior has not worked very well.  

An alternative perspective is the evidence-based approach of the social sciences. Social problems, problems involving masses of people, need social solutions. Unfortunately, that is not the way our brains are wired. Whether it is the milk spoiling because somebody didn’t put it back in the refrigerator, school shootings, or the war in Gaza, when we are confronted with a problem our brains immediately try to blame somebody. Inflation? It’s Biden’s fault (or Trump’s, depending on your political tribe). About to be evicted for non-payment of rent? Your husband’s fault for losing his job. People sleeping on the streets? Must be something wrong with them.

Once we turn our attention to broader socioeconomic causes, what jumps out is the serious deficit of affordable housing. This has two parts: (1) not enough housing and (2) not enough income. Personal issues such as mental illness and addiction are risk factors for individuals, of course, but studies indicate that homeless rates in different cities and different parts of the country do not correlate with rates of mental illness or addiction at all. They correlate almost perfectly, however, with differences in the cost of housing.

The shortage of affordable housing is a complex problem. Locally, Vision Galveston has spent a lot of effort in examining how middle-income people, teachers, police, and fire fighters, could afford to live in Galveston. Right now, unless people are lucky - living in a house bought years ago when economic factors were different, having a well-paid spouse, living with more affluent relatives, etc., it is almost undoable. And if we cannot find a way to allow middle-income people to live in Galveston, how are the no-income people going to survive?

The second part of the problem, lack of income, is not caused by any shortage of money being made in America. Quite the contrary; in the last fifty years the Gross National Income has rocketed up. The problem is inequality – in the last fifty years the very rich have captured almost all of this increase in wealth, the rest of us are treading water, while those at the bottom of the ladder are drowning.
 
Inequality is a problem in economics, but it is more than that.  Structuring the economy so that some have more than they can possibly use while others sleep on the streets is, more than anything, a moral problem.
 
While much of this is beyond the scope of this series, at Central the “rescue of babies”, and the conditions up river that led to their precarious state come together in the revolutionary teachings of Jesus. The power of the people at the bottom to change an unjust world feels possible in all that we do around here to love and care for each other. 

If we do “go up the river” to find explanations of why so many people are experiencing homelessness, we find different ways of looking at it. One way is the “common sense” notion there is something wrong with the individuals who don’t have a home. It might be mental illness, substance abuse, lack of education or training, lack of interpersonal skills, family alienation, chronic lateness, inability or unwillingness to follow directions, etc. And if homelessness is caused by the deficiencies of the people experiencing it, the solution is obvious. Either fix them or punish them.

“Fixers” advocate programs that treat mental illness and addiction, provide job training and education, teach interpersonal skills, and so on. The underlying idea is that once individual problems are fixed, homelessness will fix itself – they will get a job, rent an apartment, become solid citizens, etc. And once enough individuals are fixed, the problem of homelessness will go away, or at least be a lot less pressing. We won’t be stepping over people sleeping in the street.

Oddly enough, the “punishers” share the opinion that homelessness is caused by deficiencies of those experiencing it, but they blame these deficiencies on the homeless persons themselves. It’s their own fault, the thinking goes, so why should we help them? Maybe if we make their lives even more miserable, they will quit bothering good taxpaying citizens like us and go somewhere else.
 
Their solution is to turn the problem over to the police, insisting the cops enforce our ordinances that make it illegal to sleep on public property. Since it’s already illegal to even go on private property, criminalizing sleeping on public property looks like a good idea. “Those people” must sleep somewhere, and since every place they can sleep is illegal ,  well, they will just have to go to some other city, making it somebody else’s problem!
From my point of view, it is not hard to see that punishing those experiencing homeless, besides being ethically and morally questionable, doesn’t even try to solve the problem. But more to the point, it is very, very difficult in a democracy to make the lives of unsheltered people worse than they already are. After all, the only tool the police have is arrest, and as unpleasant as being locked up in the Galveston County jail might be, you do get meals and a roof over your head, things that you don’t get living on the streets. An arrest just starts a revolving door of incarceration, release to the streets, further arrests, – rinse and repeat. The sad thing is that it makes the problem worse. If it’s hard for a person to get a job, it’s lot harder with a criminal record.

But the “fix them” approach hasn’t solved the problem either. Don’t get me wrong – attempts to deal with the evils associated with homelessness by helping the individuals affected are not just good things, they are necessary. They are the real-world equivalent of the frantic efforts of our imaginary townsfolk trying to save the babies drowning in the river, the allegory we looked at last week.  In the real world, people who can’t get a job, or worse, are unable to work at all, need help. Those who suffer from ill health, whether physical or mental, need access to treatment. Addiction to substances, whether crystal meth, alcohol or opiates, causes immense human suffering. A program like Central’s new substance use disorder treatment clinic on Tuesdays is literally a godsend.  
 
A godsend, yes, necessary, but not enough. Just as the number of babies floating down the river kept increasing despite the efforts of the good people in that city by the river, the number of Galveston’s unsheltered is increasing, despite all our efforts.

Pastor Michael in a recent sermon quoted Einstein: “Problems cannot be solved with the same mindset that created them.” The mindset that sees the personal deficiencies of the unsheltered as the cause of their misery is one way of looking at it, but it clearly has not led to a solution. Maybe we need entirely different ways of looking.

Next time we will look at some possibilities for the different mindset that we so badly need.

During Christmas we reconnected to the story of Mary, Joseph, and the soon-to-be-born Jesus, poor people desperately searching for shelter, for a safe place. The Christmas story particularly resonates with us at Central, because serving the poorest of the poor in Galveston is our specialty!

While we are helping, as best we can, I sometimes think of an old tale about a mythical town on a river where infants started to float by in little baskets, losing their lives to the raging current. The townsfolks sprang into action to save as many as they could. They organized rescue teams to get the infants out of the river, medical teams to deal with their injuries, teams to feed, cloth and nurture those they had saved.

Of course they did! The unnecessary death of children is the essence of an “all hands-on deck” emergency. Allowing children to die, children that we could save, is such a violation of human nature as to call into question the humanity of anyone involved in it.  
 
But despite the townsfolks’ best efforts, the number of children floating down the river kept increasing. It became clear that helping the drowning castoffs, while something they absolutely had to do, was not going to the root of the problem. At least some of the villagers had to go up the river and find out why all these children were being sent to their deaths. Only then could they figure out solutions.

Similarly, the work at Central with our brothers and sisters experiencing homelessness is vitally important, for my money, the most important thing we do. And make no mistake, this is a life and death situation. If you are living on the streets, living without shelter or protection, you are much more likely to die in 2024 than people who do have shelter. It is asking a lot for Central to turn at least a part of our attention to “going up the river” and asking why. Why is the number of people without shelter increasing? Even more basically, why are people homeless in the first place?
 
On the next “Going up the river” post I’d like to examine the debate on what causes homelessness. The usual answer is to focus on the people experiencing it – there is something wrong with them (or maybe a lot of things wrong) and the answer obviously is to fix them. But there is another very different way of looking at the problem.

A few weeks ago, Rev. Dr. Vincent Harris, the District Superintendent for our larger community, gave the sermon at Central. He talked about how, with each new day, we are new, renewed in the eyes of God. This is a powerful message to those that are worn down by limited choices and limited opportunities. That they can see themselves as fully loved and valued by our creator in the present moment, regardless of the past, is healing and empowering.

 For me, a person of many privileges, that thought is encouraging yet isn’t the same powerful message. For my whole life I’ve had the resources (mostly unearned) to re-invent how I see myself, to start over when a direction didn’t serve me or my family.
 
But during the communion that followed, it came to me in a lightning bolt moment that maybe the important message for me isn’t so much about me and how I see myself, but how I see others. What would it be like if I saw others as God does, as brand new, renewed? Could I do it? Could I see my challenging relatives at Thanksgiving, or the man at the park with all his demons on display, as brand new, loved and valued by our creator? As if each day every person is reborn in love and patience and possibility? Would that change how I respond?

I’ll tell you that this has been hard. Mainly, I keep forgetting, because I am conditioned and trained to see people in a social context, not a spiritual one. I will keep trying. One time I was close, so I’m encouraged! What I am sure of is that this is the type of love among each other that we are meant to cultivate in our communities, and that Central is uniquely the type of place that it can happen, that we can practice seeing each other as beautiful and new each day.

My spouse lost her job earlier this year. This meant that we also lost health insurance benefits.

My spouse wept during church service; we were so troubled.

In the search for a new position, my spouse spoke to someone at church. She shared that she needed employment as soon as possible. That conversation helped to facilitate employment for her within a week! This job allowed my spouse to get health benefits, but the insurance was too expensive for both of us.

One Sunday, after church, I was walking to the car, and I stopped to talk with someone that I didn't know. I asked (for some reason) if he worked at UTMB. He said yes, and I told him that my spouse was looking for a job. Without hesitation he shared the names of people that we could contact about a job.
 
A few Sundays later, we shared our need with yet another person at church that only visits on occasion. She began to cry when we told her about my spouse's job situation. She said that she knew that God had her at church for a reason that day. She was able to connect us with the names of people to contact about employment at UTMB. After completing the application process, with this added connection, my spouse was able to get a job at UTMB.
Several people from Central helped to facilitate employment for my spouse. This led to affordable health insurance for both of us.

Every day I called on Jehovah Jireh, which means, “God will provide".
We are grateful for the people at Central.

As we end this official month of Pastor appreciation at Central, after much reflection, the thing that I most appreciate about Julia and Michael is that they have created for us so many opportunities to care for one another.  In all the work, activities, and events going on at Central, every caring word or conversation, every physical act of service, and every stance of solidarity with others in our community allows us the ability to contribute to a spiritual and emotional bank account. And just like a “real” bank account, we will need it as Pastor Julia preached this last Sunday, when times are hard, tragedy strikes, and love and goodness seem far away, our savings will help us stay connected to our common humanity. So even when our lives, or even the whole world seems closer to despair than to the divine, the bank of Central is always open for business. Thank you, Julia and Michael.