On "Mobile Hospitality": A Reminder

Today we're reposting our original explanation for the "Mobile Hospitality Shelf" that we set out on the porch on Sundays. With the extreme weather (heat) we and our neighbors experience in the Summer months, we thought we'd bring this one back to the front of our minds!

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Over the past few months, I've had a number of conversations with members of our parish regarding God’s heart for and presence amongst those who are suffering, the needs of our city and neighbors, a desire to serve and for a simple way to do so. This is a great encouragement: it is good and right that the needy are not forgotten, nor "the hope of the poor taken away." Of course, need and poverty take many forms, financial and physical being two of many.

Nevertheless, they are acute forms of need and poverty, and those who suffer from them are at real risk of being forgotten and losing hope.

As a way of enacting our prayers together, this month we're beginning what we are calling a ministry of “mobile hospitality.”

Here's how it works:

As you leave the church each week you will have the opportunity to stop at our “mobile hospitality shelf” located on the front steps of the church, place a few basic items in a small bag and take it with you to give to a friend or neighbor who is in need.

Why are we doing this?

There are many, many ways to think about this ministry, which we believe is central to the heart of God for his people. Here are some of them:

• God is present in and amongst the poor

• This will help us to "see" the city as it is

• God is an inviting host, and we are his desired guests

• God is full of mercy

• Habit shapes belief

How "Mobile Hospitality" works:

Three weeks ago heading home from the pool I noticed a woman standing in the intersection asking for money I had never seen before. At the moment I had nothing to give, and (at least I felt like) I was in a hurry so I looked the other way while stopped at the intersection—not too subtly ignoring her in the process. I know I saw her at least three times in the weeks since.

Yesterday, I pulled up at the same intersection, reached into my back seat and grabbed a bag of items from the mobile hospitality shelf. I rolled down the window, quickly learned her name, her husbands name, told her mine and said I hope to see her again. “That woman at the intersection” is now “CeCe.” “That man standing nearby” is now “Dallas.” I woke up this morning with them on my mind to remember to God in prayer and I genuinely hope to see them again.

This is small, and this may be my only interaction I ever have with her, but I do believe she felt seen and honored, I do believe this was a small way for me to love and participate in the love of God,  and I do wonder, as our church engages in this practice week after week, how the Lord might use this to shape us and expand our hearts and ministry as a parish.

More soon,

Fr. David