Summary: We had guests volunteer at the Cadillac Motel to help distribute tons of provisioning, and we continue to discover more about Tent City. I also share a raw, behind-the-scenes look at what it’s like to run this outreach.

Read Time: Approximately 15 minutes.

This Saturday started out like any other last Saturday of the month, with our arrival at the Cadillac Motel on the morning of the 28^th. I had already loaded down the trailer with its maximum payload of mostly coats and blankets for an event that got canceled the previous week and pulled up into the parking lot adjacent to the now fire-damaged Cadillac Restaurant. A team of volunteers had already arrived and had begun pulling out the folding tables. What a welcome sight to see. There was a time when it would have been my wife and I, and a couple of others, if we were lucky.

Considering how messy mobile outreach is, to begin with, I became aware of how organized it has become as we set things up. This isn’t because of me; all of these volunteers have shown up and how they’re communicating and orchestrating the event on their own. It’s quite a sight to see.

With all the totes in place, the line of people who have accumulated begins to move slowly. There are coats, blankets, hats, socks, and gloves on one row of tables and food on the other. Somewhere in the mix, there are some hygiene items, but I’ve focused my attention on the crowd now. This is a deviation from what I normally do, which is knock on doors. Three other trusting volunteers have divided that responsibility amongst themselves. I would have been more comfortable working in the background, but at that moment, I felt detached. Defeated. Perhaps more on that later.

We had many guest volunteers. Among them was a family who asked me what they should do. They don’t know it, but I’m not sure where to put them. After all, I ought to be knocking on doors. So, I suggested they find a place that looked like they might be comfortable with and blend in. The next thing I know, they’re helping hand off goods to people. The same with another couple. It’s a beautiful thing to see—love just showing up.

God certainly has a way of putting people in places that I continue to find are no accident. And there are seasons that God chooses to see you walk through. It makes me think of a young man who has volunteered with us on and off for quite a while now. He is a huge help and always has an open invitation. There’s no shame in doing outreach at your speed. I have also been close to people consumed by their ministry, bringing devastation to relationships that might have been saved if they had been prioritized. There ought to be boundaries, and it isn’t very easy setting them when you are on this side of it.

We also had a public figure who showed up and volunteered. I knew in advance and, for a moment, allowed my imagination to get carried away, thinking it might be similar to past encounters where I found creative ways to disappear. No, that’s not true; I haven’t done that. Yet. But I have suggested that this might not be the best time for people who want to stand there and talk. With this specific individual, it wasn’t that way at all. They blended in and worked like everyone else. No one noticed. I respect that.

We had a minor medical emergency where a resident with pre-existing medical issues needed assistance. Thankfully, everything calmly proceeded with the help of a nurse who volunteers and the professionalism of our local EMTs. It is my understanding that the individual was expected to recover.

Thankfully, we gave away at least half of the coats, blankets, and tons of food and toiletries while at the Cadillac. Which was precisely what we had hoped for because we had an abundance. In a snap, everything was loaded up and strapped down for our next stop, Tent City. Today was supposed to be a “weather-aware day” with rain and high winds. Instead, it’s cloudy and warm. Unseasonably warm. It was so warm that I told my wife the day before that we would “never give away all of that if it’s not cold outside.” One could say if you’re doing God’s will, He will provide. Today was no exception.

For reasons that we will discuss later, I have been struggling with my faith for quite a while and felt angry with God. More specifically, I think God isn’t showing up in these areas where I feel it is most needed.  Areas that the outreach currently depends on are sinking right before my eyes, and it has me asking, “Why, if this is your will?”

Yep, I’m a human. We’re all broken in some way. I’m sharing this because I’ve figured someone out there has struggles as well.

Fast forward a couple of weeks after this outreach, my loving wife showed me some pictures from just three years ago, reminding me how we started with nothing. On this particular Saturday, God provided all these people to help; some were new—no rain when every possible source warned us not to go out. We got rid of half our load in one stop, which was huge. And the back of our trailer didn’t fall off when maybe it could have. Not to mention the possibility of an enclosed trailer. That’s what I call confirmation. So perhaps we are doing God’s will. Walking through this valley is unpleasant and feels like wandering out into traffic blindfolded.

The feeling in the pit of my stomach is familiar. All this started years ago when we were metaphorically passengers on an Uber ride where God was driving. We’re comfortably sailing through life. He stopped the car, dumped us off in the middle of a place I did not intend to be, and drove off without instructions. But trust me, God provided my wife and me with unquestionable confirmation that this was the place where he wanted us.  Why are we in this place on earth, and what does God expect me to do? I work on machines, why me? I had a negative attitude toward those experiencing homelessness and wanted nothing to do with it—that uneasy feeling of an uncertain future.

A caravan of volunteers arrived at Tent City. Cherokee is not with us on this trip. I’m uncomfortable going on the same hike we took in November, as that landed me in some physical therapy. And I’m uneasy going without someone in their community accompanying us. The need to know that I made every effort to reach as many residents as possible overrides my better judgment. Therefore, I decided to hit the areas I was comfortable reaching and be satisfied with it. Three other men joined me.

We start in what I had previously perceived as the most destitute neighborhood in Tent City. Something has changed since I last visited that I didn’t expect, but it makes sense. The foliage is gone, and everything is now exposed. That turns out to be a game-changer. Now I can see that before, Cherokee and I were traveling through tunnels and paths that were closer to one another than I had first thought.  Because of the concealment, the neighborhoods felt to cover a larger area. But I am not seeing some of the structures I remembered from before, so either they’re no longer there, or I’m not accessing parts of the neighborhoods, which seems more likely.

I leave the others and climb over to a young couple warming themselves over an open fire by their tent. Their laundry is neatly hanging on a line, drying out. They’re preparing themselves to travel to where we have our tables and totes set up while I’m visiting the different homes, not having much luck finding anyone. I came across a long-term resident with whom I have gotten acquainted over the years. He showed me and the other three men an alternate path from what Cherokee and I took back to where we had everything set up that was not nearly as challenging.

Upon my return, I checked with the volunteers and was told that the crowd wasn’t as big as expected. The turnout at our next stop, Lee Manor, was vastly underattended despite us aggressively knocking on doors in the Henry Smith area. We did have a good turnout at Green Tree Apartments on Seventh Street and Orchard and deployed more warm clothing, leaving us with seven totes consolidated. That is what we call a very blessed day.

By the way, I recognize that being angry with your father isn’t healthy. I have chosen to allow bitterness to enter into the relationship of the church family that I had taken a role in and allowed that separation to deteriorate the bond with who I know to be my Savior. I knew this would happen since the lack of community and being in the Word affects one’s faith and ability to handle the seasons we were meant to walk through. It’s like getting the weak gazelle away from the herd. Left unattended, it creates opportunities for things to boil and erupt, which they do.

Thursday, December 19^th, was one eruption day. Days before, we had received tons of donated clothes. I struggled to keep up with the daunting task of separating that many bags to the point that my already struggling business showed more neglect than usual. That evening, we had another load of coats dropped off after hours. The following morning, several more loads. There’s barely a trail to walk through in the growing area reserved for our outreach. This has become the norm for weeks now.  At that very moment, I want to lock the doors and walk away.

Let me be clear that we are incredibly thankful for everyone’s generosity. Without it, we wouldn’t have an outreach. To put this into perspective, each bag will likely contain something you were not expecting. There might be a brand-new men’s dress shirt with the tag still on it, some baby clothes, and beautiful silk blouses. The fact that someone has given these things is an outward expression of their love. But trust me, we do not have the space or the hands to handle all that. As much as we would like to do it all, we can barely keep our nose above water with what we feel are the most essential items to keep a human body warm. We only have one trailer that I overload with forty-plus totes. Unfortunately, we have to be selective in what gets loaded up.

We have entered into an exclusive partnership with Shepard’s Hand Ministry, which specializes in providing families with clothing throughout the year. They can handle that with six thousand square feet of space and thirty-plus volunteers. We transport what we cannot use, and within a day or two, it’s all sorted, pinned, and ready for distribution.

My wife walks in, sees the looming mountain of clothes, and starts to weep. She said, “I’m calling in reinforcements!” Without missing a beat, my mouth opened, and these words came out without me thinking. “We don’t have reinforcements!” My two co-workers are in the shop, so it’s like parents fighting in front of the children. And now the real issue has come to light. I won’t ask for help, and I am not good at delegating. Even in my business, I default to doing things by myself. Kim makes a call, and Tom and Karen Bristow arrive within moments. Three hours later, they sorted through everything and had everything organized.

My point is this. My worldly self says, “There’s no way this will work; the numbers are not lining up.” If we’re going to do more, we need to be able to load more. We need people willing to do the unpleasant part behind the scenes because I don’t know how much longer I can neglect the business that struggles to support it. And the whining and complaining goes on and on. What I know to be true is that I never was in control. I might think I know what I’m doing, but I do not. This is God’s will. And He will provide.

Check back about a year from now, and we’ll see if that’s not what happens. I guarantee it won’t turn out as expected because that’s how God moves.

With that being said, we have an announcement. With the amount we have invested in sales tax alone, just in totes, we passed up what it would have cost to form a non-profit months ago. If we had even dreamed this outreach would grow as it has, we could have done that from the start and not paid that exorbitant amount of sales tax. So, to be better stewards of God’s provisioning, we have formed “Just People.” It’s simply a legal entity.

Over time, several people asked if they could give us money. For one reason or another, they could not volunteer or deliver provisioning to our location but wanted to bless our cause. And I turned them down. I was convinced I could do it independently and was concerned about how money makes things questionable.

And then I was gently corrected. It’s not okay for me to try to get in God’s way and prevent someone from being a blessing to His people. So, we are in the process of making that happen.

All of the real names used here were with permission (including Cherokee). Otherwise, the names have been changed. To protect the identity of those photographed, they have been blurred intentionally unless consent was given before publishing.

The Safer Kentucky Act, which went into effect on July 15, 2024, makes sleeping or camping in public areas illegal, including on sidewalks, roadsides, under bridges, or in parks, parking lots, garages, or doorways. The law creates a new offense called “unlawful camping” that can result in arrest and fines.  Assisting those individuals is considered to be aiding and abetting, which is a legal doctrine that refers to the act of helping or encouraging someone to commit a crime. The person who aids and abets is generally held to the same degree of criminal liability as the person who commits the crime.  We ask that you please not attempt to locate or visit Tent City.