I came here expecting to see a change in myself, our friends on the street, and the teams that we would be leading each week. What I didn’t expect, though, was how much this time would contribute to shaping the hearts of the people that I already had in my life.

On a Friday in June, our team took bags of snacks into the Tenderloin in hopes of finding someone who could be blessed by lunch and a good conversation. Near the local laundromat, I met Katie, who when asked if I could eat lunch with her, didn't respond in the way I was expecting. She remained silent and simply pulled out a small plastic crate. It was set out for me right in front of a similar one that she was sitting on.

I was terrified, I was devastated, I felt inadequate to be leading, and I doubted that God knew what He was doing. Throughout this feeling of not being enough, I went to other staff members and they simply repeated to me that God does not call the equipped, but He equips the called. God is able to watch over me and in the struggle God is continuously equipping me. 

Our focus is not trying to avoid what’s wrong, our focus is now fixed on our Father and because we love Him we don’t want anything else! That Spirit we receive lets us know our true identity as His Children.

“On the first night of the course I told you about the aliens and you were very gracious to accept me into the group, but I now know what Christianity is about, and the Holy Spirit is changing me.”

I was astonished to see the outpouring of grace and love your organization gives to those in need. I was touched by the dignity you allow–or so it seemed from the 11th floor of the hotel looking down on God’s creation. Even months since my return from San Francisco, your ministry is what I remember of the city.

So I did only what I could do - I gave up. My mind was over-burdened, so I stopped caring about the expectations of others. My heart was heavy, so I stopped striving to please people to maintain a relationship with them.

One day, in particular, a woman walked up to me and asked me if I knew where her daughter and granddaughter were. She explained that they had just become homeless after leaving the family home to live with her partner, however, this didn’t work out and they both ended up on the street. She was desperate to meet up with them. She proceeded to show me a photo of her daughter, in hopes that I might recognize them, but I didn’t.

He asked us to read Matthew 24… I don't know what the significance of that passage was for him, but I do know that when he hugged me and kissed my cheek, we'd given him EXACTLY what he needed.

I’ve never been good at facing my fear, especially my fear of vulnerability. Hosting teams has helped me monumentally as I have been challenged by God to step out and not let fear rule my life. I see as students step out and face their fear as they go out and do ministry on the streets all week. They challenge me without even knowing it to step out in faith and trust that God will protect my heart.

Curtis lives his life pouring into others with anything and everything he has. All he owns in his life is contained on a utility dolly that he brings everywhere he goes. He gathers food donations that restaurants give him and passes it out to his friends. He frequently requests that I bring the kids down to see him just so that he can spoil them. He comes in to use our showers, yet he stays to make popcorn and then makes sure his popcorn machine is thoroughly cleaned.

Now community isn’t a choice. Having a roommate means I literally can’t hide. Eating most of my meals with people makes it harder to hide when I’m having a bad day, or struggling with the sadness and anxiety that is a part of my life. If I need to cry, I probably won’t get to do that alone. Thankfully, if I want a good laugh, I don’t have to do that alone either. What’s fun is that in this community we see that everyone is deeply flawed, but we’re all committed to staying here.

I didn't care that this man hadn’t showered in several days, or that his clothes were filthy, or that he smelled of alcohol and weed. I sat close to him and let him cry on my shoulder. I told him that God was always good, He is full of loving-kindness and slow to anger. Then we prayed together. On that chilly night in January, sitting on a cardboard box on a street of the Tenderloin, this man gave his life to Jesus.

Interruptions are an invitation from God. An invitation to life, ministry, relationship, connection, healing, and the list goes on.

At the end of the interview, the police officer looked at me with a new sense of understanding.  

“I am trained to see the problems of the neighborhood. Every night I go home feeling burned out and depressed. I have learned something today…to see the good in the midst of all the bad.”

Recently I found myself in a moment of helplessness as a stabbing victim lay right outside our door. I waited for the ambulance trying to calm and reassure the man, wanting to be able to do more - to be able to stop the bleeding, but I couldn’t. At that moment, I decided I would not be helpless again. I wanted to learn, in a practical way, how to save and restore life, so I trained to be an EMT.

Nadine was wearing socks, leggings, and a crop top on a very cold night. I watched as the officer’s exasperation rose. Nadine became more and more upset and emotional. Soon she was crying out to Jesus to help her, “It’s so cold” she said over and over. In that moment I knew I could do one of two things: I could leave, or I could step over and ask Jesus what to do.

We live in a climate where, mistakenly, we think the loudest voice wins so we drown out any opposition, listening is viewed as a sign of surrendering to the other side, and apologizing is considered the last resort of a desperate flounderer. To shout is better than to listen. To shame is better than to forgive. To make an excuse is better than an apology.

The moment I arrived in the Tenderloin I had my answer. The dirty sidewalks, the people living on the streets, the evidence of hopelessness and in the middle of it all - YWAM. Not hidden, but present. Not passive, but engaged. That was the moment where it felt right and I finally knew that this was where I was supposed to be.

The people of the Tenderloin are beautiful. They are the generous ones. They are the ones who immigrated here from hard places. They are the seniors in group homes on Ellis Street. They are the Latino families who send their kids to dance class. They are the Yemeni women who make the best bread. They are the owners of our favorite neighborhood markets who always give me free sparkly water! They are Paul and Abdul and Melissa. They are hope and joy and love.