Last week, we sent out an email letting our supporters know that we were running extremely low on food and socks. Within a week, our pantry and sock crates were overflowing!
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This picture is the food from just one church, Eastern Hills Community Church in Aurora, who donated.
In addition to Eastern Hills, we would also like to thank Englewood Fist Assembly of God, Grace Community Church, Boulder County Community Church, Kevin and Carol Bohren, and all the individuals who gave so generously to help meet our needs to help the homeless and at-risk youth of Denver!
It is rare that homeless kids get brand new clothes to wear, but thanks to Shane and Patty Rose of Utah, they will! Take a look at all these new clothes for the homeless youth of Denver!
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“Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far it is possible to go.” — T.S. Eliot
For all of us, it is often easy in life not to take risks. Easier to stand by and watch than to put our necks on the line in an attempt to change a certain situation. Or maybe some of us are great “dreamers” but we have a hard time, when it comes time, to step up and follow through with our dreams because of fear. No matter how great or miniscule, we deal with risk, everyday all of the time. There are statistics that can be looked at to evaluate the amount of risk involved in any given situation to either encourage people or deter people from doing things.
Sox Place is an environment all about taking risks. The only reason Sox Place even exists today is because of some very monumental risk taking. If Doyle had not taken a HUGE risk, over a decade ago now, and moved his family and entire life to Denver, Sox Place would not be here. If the people who continuously donate their time, money, and prayer, Sox Place would not survive the way it does today. If our staff members did not step out and decide that they would rather work with the kids at Sox Place, doing this ministry, rather than any number of career choices, Sox Place would not be what it is today.
People will often tell you that working with the type of kids that come to Sox Place is a risk that is just not worth taking. People will say that the risk is so much greater than the reward. However, isn’t this what is so amazing about Jesus and his ministry? Whether it is the story of the woman at the well or Jesus choosing to use fishermen as the men who will forever change history through his ministry, he leads a great example of what it means for us to be risk takers.
Lately, this is an issue that God has been laying on my heart in a huge way. One thing we always say at Sox Place is “We need to give them the best we’ve got.” We may not always have the best food for the kids or the sweetest new clothes but we always give them the best we have. It is so important for our ministry that this is also the case in all of our interactions with our kids, because they are worth the risk. God doesn’t call us to be complacent or to just try to meet the needs of the kids that walk through our door. God calls us to daily take risks and put our necks on the line for the people we serve.
As Jesus showed us how to be risk takers through his ministry, so can we show our kids how to be risk takers through ours.
As I stood on the tile beside the door, getting my mind ready for the blast of cold and snow that I was about to encounter, I looked down at my boots. My ugly boots. My old, dirty, ugly boots. I’d had them since high school – about ten years now. Ten years is a long time to have a pair of shoes when you’re only 26 and female. They were a sort-of faded black – I couldn’t remember if they had always been that color or if they had faded over time – with dirt on the top of one of them that I couldn’t seem to get off. They were size almost-too-big. Clunky was a good description for them; I sounded like a 300 pound drunk man when I walked across the floor. And they were plain. Completely plain, except for the drawstring around the top to keep the snow from getting inside. They were my old, dirty, ugly boots.
Trekking across the yet-to-be-plowed parking lot toward my bus stop, through snow drifts up to my ankles, I was almost thankful for those ugly boots. But just almost. When I sat down on the bus, my feet were dry and warm, which is important to a cold-natured person such as myself. But they were still my ugly boots. I couldn’t help but frown down at them, no matter how subconsciously thankful I was for unfrozen toes.
With my feet under my desk at work, I didn’t have to think about my unsightly boots too much. I went to work, getting done what I had planned to finish that day in no time. This made it so I could help out in the drop-in center for most of the day, hanging out with the street youth that come into Sox Place. Between getting warm socks for the kids and cleaning up coffee spills – cold, numb hands don’t attach well to warm cups of coffee – it was easy to ignore the sound of big-foot coming from my own boots.
Not long after we opened, a girl came in almost unnoticed among the extra-large crowd that Sox Place attracts on snowy days. But she stood out a little more than the others – at least to me. The coat she had on looked warm enough, but it was obviously too small. Small tufts of blonde hair poked out of her too-tight hood just enough to see that neither a comb nor shampoo had touched it in weeks. Her nose was running and her face was red. Her lips looked as if she were to try to smile, they would start bleeding in about ten places. She had her sleeping bag draped over most of her body so as to keep the flying snow away as she walked. The legs of her jeans were wet half-way up to her knees from being dragged through slush. And her non-waterproof boots looked as if someone had soaked them in a bathtub of ice water overnight before giving them to her to wear.
She came up to me and asked, barely audible, “Can I go downstairs to get shoes and some dry clothes?”
“Absolutely,” I responded, as I led her to the donation room. I pointed to the piles of shoes and coats while she removed the load from her back.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice a little stronger. “I got here as fast as I could. My feet are so cold. I tried to run, but I couldn’t feel my feet. I almost fell.” She looked down at her sloshy boots and took a step. “Oh! They hurt so bad!” She walked closer to the shoes. “Oh, they hurt!”
I didn’t know what to tell her. Frostbite was the first thing that came to my mind, but I didn’t want to tell her that. Surly she didn’t have frostbite. “Maybe you should take off your wet socks and shoes, and I’ll go get you some dry socks.”
She began to take off her shoes, and I went upstairs to grab some thick socks. When I came back, she had picked out some boots in her size (good thing she had small feet – they were the last pair of boots we had) and was headed toward the pile of coats, cursing her feet as she went.
I handed her the socks, and she sat down with a curse, “They hurt so bad! Why would they hurt so much?”
I looked at her bare feet as she rubbed them between her hands before putting on the socks. They were wrinkled, as if she had been in the shower too long. And red. So red it looked like she was overheated, but I knew it was just the opposite. “I don’t know,” I answered. “Maybe it’s like after you’ve been playing in the snow, then you come inside and wash your hands in warm water, and it hurts a lot because your fingers got so cold.”
She didn’t respond to my answer. I’m not sure if she thought it was as dumb as I thought it had sounded or if she was thinking about it. Either way, she finished her business and put on her new-found, fitting coat and warm, waterproof boots.
As I watched her toss her old, soaked boots to the side, I couldn’t help but look down at my own feet. Maybe it was the lighting in that basement or the fact that I was standing on a crumbling concrete floor, but for some reason, my boots didn’t look quite so ugly anymore.
By Kara Knight
Sox Place is a drop in center for street kids that provides a safe haven for them to call home. But it’s not just a drop in center, it’s a church. Doyle and the supporters of Sox Place are dedicated to changing lives one relationship at a time in the heart of Denver. Surrounded by prostitution, heroine use, and meth addiction Doyle dives into the mess of people’s lives and loves them where they are at.
Compete for the Street supports Sox Place by spreading awareness, and developing fundraising opportunities through, endurance sporting events. Shawn-the founder of Compete for the Street–catches up with Josh to get the full story on the happenings at Sox Place.
Find out more about Compete for the Street http://www.facebook.com/competeforthestreet
Drop by “Sox Place” in downtown Denver most days and you’ll find several dozen young homeless people eating lunch, working on computers or relaxing while watching a movie. What you won’t find is any outward signs that the non-profit drop-in center is run by an ordained minister of deep personal faith.
His name is Doyle Robinson. The kids on the street gave him his street name of “Sox” after Robinson spent several years passing out clean socks to homeless people in Denver. Robinson is a minister ordained in the Assemblies of God, a Protestant denomination of over 60 million people worldwide.
So why isn’t Robinson’s faith on display?
“If your faith isn’t real it’s very apparent,” he says. “It comes across fake, it comes across empty and shallow. If your faith is real you live it on a daily basis.”
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Hardcore is one of the purest forms of expression in music. More visceral than cerebral, the music is simple, direct and explosive. There’s no pretense or subtext — nothing to analyze. And, refeshingly, its practioners and enthusiasts are generally as straight-forward and no-nonsense as the music, which means they’re unaffected by the trends and trappings of the industry. There’s no carrot to dangle here. The bands aren’t clamoring for press or stepping over each other for accolades. Instead, it’s all about the music and looking after one another – which couldn’t be any clearer, as evidenced by my recent conversation with Fight Like Hell’s drummer Memphis. The subject of my October 18 column, who’s band is at the center of Denver’s hardcore scene and who books Sox’s Place, Memphis talks about the genesis of Mile High hardcore and Sox’s Place, in addition to weighing in on FSU, the controversial East Coast hardcore crew, and discussing how Denver’s scene compares to other cities.
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