A Gift Economy

People often come into the Well and wonder how we are doing everything that we are doing. While the reality is that it takes the blood, sweat, and tears of a missionary community, the real question people commonly have is a financial one. The answer to this is not unlike the one above, we exist by the commitments of those who make personal sacrifice for the sake of this mission. We are completely community supported. People like you, who value the existence of this oasis of hospitality, make pledges to partner with us financially. Some give out of their poverty and others give out of their abundance. This is how it works in the community of Jesus. 

All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. -Acts 2:44-45

The monthly gifts of our partners range from just a few dollars per month to pledges that have commas in them. We trust the community to do what they can and we trust Jesus to move his people toward mercy and the grace of giving. We receive gratefully and use every penny we get to share abundantly with those who come to our doors seeking that mercy and grace. 

God has been faithful and we have been able to give and grow aggressively. Sometimes provision comes a day or a week after we would have liked it to and this reminds us to look toward Jesus at each step as we pray, as He taught us, for our daily bread. Ours is a gift economy in which we give freely and trust. 

There are many initiatives that we have started and neighbors that we have met which naturally result in a growing need. This means we must constantly move forward in faith and trust Jesus and His people to make the necessary personal sacrifices to meet the needs of our community. Sustainability is always more important to us than growth though the truth is, recovery is the real call. As more broken people and broken systems make themselves known to us the necessity and call of mercy grows with them. Recovery takes resources and our community has a long way to go to see justice and equality in Tampa. Please join us in this struggle. Stand with us, walk with us, sacrifice with us. 

Right now we are, as has been the case, completely leveraged financially. Our monthly expenses are actually pushing just over our monthly pledges by about $1,100. We are sustaining because we have been given some extremely generous one time gifts to balance out the shortfall. This won't last forever and we are in need of at least that amount more in monthly pledges to sustain at our current operating expense which is just over 6,000/mo. This is a very lean operating budget which in reality should be well over 10,000/mo. We are trusting Jesus to provide as He will and operating as simply as possible for as long as He would have us do that. For example, we currently have 5 staff sharing 2,200/mo for their income. Luckily we have the Well to get food from! 

We are living lean and sharing aggressively because we believe Jesus would have his people sacrifice to see the Kingdom come among the poorest and most vulnerable in our city. Would you consider tightening your own belt and sacrificing with us to make sure that this Well never runs dry? 

He has told you, O mortal, what is good;

and what does the Lord require of you

but to do justice, and to love kindness,

and to walk humbly with your God? -Micah 6:8

The Taj

Today is special day for our community. It is a day set aside in our annual schedules to honor and be grateful for our sister Tajhah. Tajhah is kind of a big deal around here. She is a strong and beautiful woman who is following hard after Jesus. The Well is lucky enough to have her with us as she does, by our side in community, worship, and mission. Tajhah is a light in our Family Room, she is a special member of our team who is particularly good at sitting with guests, listening to their stories, remembering their names and following up with them. She is a model for other volunteers and staff when it comes to these relationships and hospitality, she is also a gift to those who come to our door often more starved for affection or attention than any kind of food.

Would you join us today in thanking God for Tajhah, her smile, her heart and her faithfulness. Often folks give gifts to one another on birthdays, today we appreciate the fact that Tajhah's birth was a gift to all of us. 

We love you Tajhah! Hairy Buttday!

A Letter to My Street Warriors

To my warrior friends,

You've been on the street for some time now, and your at a point where you are about to give up. I guess the Christian thing for me to do would be to talk you out of it. However, I doubt that there is anything that I could say that you haven't heard all ready; so I'll spare you the words that you'll disregard anyway and spare myself the amount of time it would take to come up with a good enough excuse, when I know that there isn't one.

You're sick of living on the street. Only God knows what goes on out there. At this point you are ready to give up on everything...

But before you throw in the towel, hear me out.

There are not many places where you are welcomed. Your story is one of great length but you can never find the right time or the right person willing to listen. You are criminalized for being homeless. You go days, weeks even, without a shower. You get food wherever and whenever you can, and you are no stranger to skipping meals. The longer you live on the street, the more it feels like you are losing your mind.

Living on the streets is something you can never really get use to. It's wet, dirty and most importantly unsafe. With no safe place to go you are all out of options. Your wondering who cares enough to be concerned about you.

Would you believe me if I said I feel every frustrating thought that you feel? Is it hard to imagine that when your heart breaks, mine does too? And that when you are being taken advantage of, I too, am being taken advantage of?

Maybe I haven't a clue as to what it's like to live on the street. I am certainly no expert compared to you. But I know pain and I know suffering. I know what I see from volunteering at the Free Market. And after closing on each day, my heart breaks a little more for those who are back to the street until we open the next day.

So no, I have never slept on the cold concrete or have had to track down something to eat, only to come back and find my stuff stolen.

But because I am aware of these things, I am steady trying to change them. There are others who feel just as strongly as I do, and if nothing else warms your heart, I pray that knowing this does.

It may take time, time that you may or may not have. Just know that you are not forgotten or lost and that we hear you. God hears you.

With that being said,  can you hold out a little longer? A selfish thing to ask, I know. But its important that you do. Realize that I need you more than you need me. Know that there are those who have no willpower to fight, and that when their strength is lacking and drained, it is you who uplifts them.

I hope that this letter finds you in time. And that you will heed my words carefully. Know that I am right here on the battle field fighting not against you, but beside you.

Sign,

Your Warrior Friend


Street Warrior- one who faces the unimaginable while living on the streets, and yet, in spite of what happens, is able to persevere with awe inspiring determination; he or she possesses the courage and
willpower to press and move forward, all the while combating the never ending tribulations that occur as a result of living on the street.

Exhausted

Sleep, along with food, water, and air to breath, is one of the most important and basic physiological human needs. Not getting enough good sleep causes people to have trouble with their temperaments, mental health, memory, digestion, concentration and even their motor skills. It's something that those who have a consistent place to lay their heads often take for granted, and something that those who live on the streets consistently go without. This has become increasingly obvious to me since I've been coming The Well and spending time with people who basically never get a good night of sleep. It's impossible. They have so many elements against their chances of getting the sleep they need: rain, their belongings being stolen, their personal safety, lack of comfort or quiet, and the list could probably go on and on, depending on who you're talking to. It's a huge problem, and it's something that I would personally like to work towards fixing...This passage below was written by one of our guests describing the obstacles he faced just during the period of one single night. Imagine what constant struggles all people who are on the streets must face every single night. 

"I'm tired and exhausted, and sleeping is not an option. I'm out here with no place to go. I just have a bag of clothes and a bike. I'm starting to feel tired, so I sit down on a bench at a bus stop. I'm starting to nod off. This old lady comes up and sits next to me. For the next 15 minutes I learn about her poodle who only eats chicken and refuses to eat dog food, and how Obama has taken her medicaid. The bus comes by and the lady leaves me. My eyes grow heavy. Two minutes later someone comes by and asks me, how long for the bus? It just left. He sits down and starts explaining how he's going to be late now. I move on.
I make my way down town and sit down on a bench. People come up to me, and ask "what do I have in the bag?" And "how much for my bike?" I wonder what's that funny smell coming from what they are smoking? I don't like how they are eyeing my stuff. I move on.
Okay, here we go, a shelter. After waiting 2 hours, They tell me they've all filled up try again tomorrow.
I can't sleep among all these people smoking this weird stuff and eyeing my stuff. I move on.
It's getting dark out. I find my way to a quiet street next to the water, this bench will do. I finally fall asleep. Is that water I'm feeling. I better get out of the rain.
Daylight comes. I can't stay in this neighborhood. It's too nice. I'll get a vagrancy charge. I move on. Park benches and libraries are out of the question, they don't let sleeping.
After a couple days of this, the shelter lets me in. Wow it's loud in here. No way one can sleep right now. Nine o'clock arrives. The lights go off. I drift to sleep. It's midnight and dang it, I have to go pee. I return to my bed. Is that snoring? Or did somebody open a Harley shop? After a few hours I drift off to sleep despite all the noise. The lights click on. Someone says, "It's 5 O'clock. Time to get up."
I'm tired, and exhausted, and sleeping is not an option."

Calling Home by Jenny Pan

The following guest post is from Jenny Pan, who until moving recently was a core volunteer at The Well. 

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When I first discovered the Well, and the Tampa Underground for that matter, back last December, I related to the guests of the Well on a level that most people didn’t know about. I lacked a true home even though I did have a roof over my head. Don’t get me wrong, I am very grateful for the blessing of a physical home, but my heart craved a place of belonging too. As human beings, one of our fundamental needs is for connection. As much as we try to be self sufficient, no man is actually an island. 

Why does belonging mean so much to me? For the last two years, I was in a rotational leadership program for my company so I was moving to a completely new location every 8 months. I would move, get settled and then move again. While I grew immensely from moving around for work, it was painfully lonely. With much difficulty I opened myself up to coworkers, friends and church community at each location only to feel the inevitable feeling of loss when I had to say goodbye. Even during my first rotation in Raleigh, NC, I was telling everyone that I had an expiration date to make sure that the expectations were clear. I set those expectations because I wanted to be honest about my situation but also, I didn’t want to get too close to people because saying goodbye and letting go is one of the hardest things for me to do. 

Tampa was the third stop on my journey. I was used to the moving part by this point; however, my heart was weary from always being on the move. Nowhere felt like home and I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere. Not even the gorgeous sunset vistas and abundant palm trees could convince me to forget my deep sense of loneliness. But God has something planned for me that I couldn’t fathom because He knows the innermost longings of my soul and He loves me like no one else can.

Through some incredible measures, He led me to the Tampa Underground and subsequently the Well. Immediately, I knew this was the sense of belonging God wanted me to have. What a sweet embrace the community gave me too! Regardless of my expiration date, the Well community freely welcomed me like family without expectations of me returning the hospitality. Serving the guests at the Well was life-giving as well. I needed the guests and the community’s perspective because it revealed to me a more complete view of the world that God was trying to show me. It helped me step out of myself and the narrow perspective I had. Hearing the stories of our guests and the Well community strengthen my faith that God works tangibly in the lives of the people He loves. It inspired me to love this rare and beautiful community more not only because of the lives it was changing, but because the Well gave me a place of belonging that my soul desperately desired. A realization that hit me hard was that I didn’t call the Well home, but the Well was calling me home because belonging is acceptance by someone or somewhere. And acceptance can't be self-declared because it is an act of grace outside of oneself.

So where am I now? God knew that Tampa wasn’t the last stop on my journey. My 8 months on the west coast of Florida ended as quickly as it started but I can confidently call the sanctuary that is the Tampa Underground and the Well home. I moved to Durham, NC in mid-July and started a new job here and I have taken the lessons I have learned about being called home to heart. Though it took me 2 years to return here after graduating Duke University in 2012, God ultimately knew that it was Durham that was calling me home. It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes from T.S. Eliot, 

“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”

It did feel like I was knowing Durham for the first time because it was finally my home. I recognized the sense of belonging I have here because it is the same feeling of belonging that I felt at the Well. Though saying goodbye to all of you was hard, I know that when a place is home, goodbyes are temporary and insignificant. I will forever be grateful to the Well for calling me home. Thank you! 

-Jenny Pan

A Reflection from one of the Firm Believers Crew

The following guest post is from Violetta Pavlovna Remeslova, about her work with The Well's Firm Believers outreach in and around Downtown Tampa. This post was originally posted on Violetta's personal blog.

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As I reflect on my experiences with the poor in the past year, I realized the amazing effect these people have had on my life. This is just a small summary of the amazing lessons I have learned on the streets of my city.

I have been going out with my friend for a while now, and have met a lot of people in the downtown areas as well as built deeper relationships with a handful of them. I have noticed that as I keep going out weekly or a couple times a week, I am more and more involved in their daily struggles. These relationships are so beautiful and vulnerable, but naturally, they also cause a great deal of tension as I leave my friends at the end of every outreach, knowing that I am going home to my comfortable bed while they have to find a spot to sleep with their switch blade at hand.

Realizing that this tension will never go away has been a hard lesson to learn and on so many occasions, I have felt absolutely helpless to their situations. Feeling like I cannot offer anything to my brothers and sisters breaks my heart. And the things I am trying to offer are not actually making any kind of change to the system which is always going to title them as less than human, dirty, and forever marginalized. Honestly, overtime, my heart has become hardened to this reality and before starting [the Underground Institute class] Urban Theology, I was feeling weak, tired and wanting to give up on the outreaches we do every week. It felt more and more hopeless every time we ran out of food before everyone was fed, or we didn’t have the things they needed, or we couldn’t provide a real release from the struggles they face daily. Being in class has opened by eyes to gods amazing power and to the suffering he calls us to.

I have embraced the tension I will forever feel and let it propel me to further action, for a louder voice to speak on the behalf of the voiceless. I have looked for every opportunity to embrace them and reaffirm their purpose and their dignity and to never be the one to rob them of that. There is so much they have taught me about simplicity, patience, endurance, importance of deeper relationships, and so much more.

As I begin entering into a relationship with them, one of the most beautiful experiences I’ve had is listening to their dreams and aspirations for the future. The poor’s pursuit of luxuries and unnecessary comforts is virtually nonexistent. The things they want from life are as simple as a job that gives them dignity, a place to live that is simple but safe, and reconciliation with family who have not forgiven them or quickly forgotten them. Some want to change the world and the systems that have been against them for years and others simply want to remember what it is like to have peace. Some want to lead rallies and speak prophetically about the injustices while others want to buy a trailer and park it on the beach.

Their dream is simply to have choices, to regain their dignities, and almost always, to help other as they have once been helped. As they so patiently wait for these dreams to come true, for justice to be served and for promises to be fulfilled, they have trust, in God and in people. Even after years of abuse and unfaithful promises, they are still hopefully that one day everything will change, one day people will do what they promised. And I see their despair when a promise does not come through or when a plan to finally get off the streets falls apart.

It is painful to watch them being let down over and over again as their destinies are in clenched in someone else’s hand. And I know I have let them down too. I also have been part of the “just like everyone else” statistic that the homeless are far too familiar with. But even in my shame and embarrassment, I come back to see them, maybe have a conversation or two if they will allow it, but they welcome me with open arms every time, as if old friends are once again reunited.

I am still only brushing the surface of what it means to live in solidarity with the poor and honestly, I don’t think I’m even close. But still, I cannot live without the poor. I need them way more than they need me. I would be the one who is less than human without them.

Reinstitutionalization

Three strike laws are statutes enacted by state governments to deter recidivism. They basically increase penalties on habitual offenders or career criminals so as to dissuade such career paths or habits. While these statues are predominately issued to give life sentences to repeat first degree felons, or more decades to second and third degree felons, the logic of the system has worked its way down to quite petty offenses. This can make way for unfortunate rulings against 'crimes' associated with the condition of being homeless at the city or county levels.

The last post on our blog, written by Kineci, told of one such situation for a friend of ours who lives on the streets in Tampa. He has been arrested many times for trespassing. Trespassing and loitering become a perpetual state for many on the streets because they have nowhere to go. (which, BTW, is precisely why the Well is determined to create an oasis of hospitality) Our friend was trying to leave town because he knew the next arrest would mean a more severe punishment. He never made it out of town (which never really was a great solution anyway) and was arrested on Saturday. Now he is facing much more significant jail time because he is a 'habitual' offender. You see he is chronically homeless.

Many years ago our society ran asylums where they would put people that were considered mentally ill. These hospitals were heavily criticized as they were often very poorly kept up, understaffed and filled with very difficult individuals. After some exposure of the conditions of these places, where entire segments of the population were segregated, there was much demand for deinstitutionalization.  Under Ronald Reagan the call was made that these asylums be closed, and they were.  While it is not hard to praise the end of such horrific conditions for some of our societies most vulnerable people it is sometimes hard to take a sober look at how such moves have played out in our cities.

Deinstitutionalization basically flushed these mental hospitals out into our streets. The idea was that within our communities folks with mental disabilities could live less isolated lives and find local community mental health services to assist when needed. What we ended up having in many of our cities is an open asylum where those who needed such hospitalization or care are left to wander the streets alone. We do have many mental health services in Tampa, though you are seen, assessed, and turned out almost immediately. There is no place to stay and be safe, which is precisely what so many with paranoia and anxiety need.

Where we once hospitalized we now criminalize. Where once people were put in institutions run by nurses and doctors they are now ending up in institutions run by police and wardens. While deinstitutionalization was a move made for humanitarian reasons (giving the benefit of the doubt) it never served society or those that needed the help. What we are seeing now is some kind of twisted repentance or undoing of deistitutionalization. What we are seeing today is the reinstitutionalization of our most vulnerable. Though now they are not in poorly kept hospitals but highly profitable penal institutions.

I assure you, we are not better off.