February 1, 2011 – 7:15 pm
Frozen to Death The week after Christmas and it is freezing cold in Hotlanta. We have been opening our little dining room for a few people to come in and sleep during the cold nights. It is not enough for everyone. Randall Cook was a close friend of the Open Door Community. So close [...]
Hospitality, Vol. 24, No. 4 Mary, the mother of our nonviolent God, was a peasant girl about 14 years old when, in 5 BCE, she enters history. She comes today into our home, so let me introduce you to our meeting place. The Second Door. We have a sacred and holy place inside our house. [...]
Hospitality, vol. 22, no. 6 I. Lunch Time She was so bent over, all we could see was her lower backside. I walked over to the city garbage can to get closer to her. The lid on the garbage can was locked. But there were holes on the sides, and that’s where [...]
Hospitality, April 2003, vol. 22, no. 4 (Editor’s note: Ed Loring, a Partner at the Open Door Community, preached the following sermon at the Seattle Mennonite Church on September 29, 2002.) The Message to Laodicea And to the angel of the church in Laodicea write: The words of the Amen, the faithful [...]
Hospitality Vol. 21, no.6 Gidget is out of jail again! “Liberty to captives,” Jesus says, and is our mission. “Let the oppressed go free,” the face of God continues. Jesus’s mouth is full of his mentor Isaiah’s words. “Welcome home, Gidget!” has been ringing up and down our hallways all week, and resounding [...]
February 1, 2000 – 9:36 pm
Hospitality vol. 19, no. 2 Jesse caught his foot under the green dumpster and fell before he could zip up his pants. His right hand hit hard the broken vodka bottle and slashed his palm like a slice of rare roast beef for Sunday dinner. The man in blue swung around the corner [...]
November 1, 1999 – 8:35 pm
Hospitality vol. 18, no. 11 One: Fragments Found The Cry For Help “Who killed Cock Robin? ‘I,’ said the sparrow, ‘With my little bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin.’ Who saw him die? ‘I,’ said the fly, ‘With my little eye, I saw him die.’ Who’ll make his [...]
One: August 1, 1999 A loud banging assaulted our front door. Agitation mingled with the stifling heat of more than 100 degrees. I went to the door, pushed wide the heavy green gift just above the panic bar. Quentin’s face was contorted, his breath heavy and foul, eyes on fire like Ponce’s asphalt in [...]
