One of the greatest joys of our ministry at the Hotel Cecil is simply being able to respond to a need.
At the end of this month, we’ll once again be offering clothing to our neighbors. Right now, though, we have a real shortage of serviceable men’s clothing. We have plenty of socks and an eclectic collection of theme T-shirts, but I’d love to be able to offer men more than that. Clean jeans, casual pants, button-down shirts, polos, jackets, belts—those simple things that help restore dignity and help someone feel seen.
If you have men’s clothing in good condition that you no longer need, I’d love to help find it a new home.
While I’m asking, I’ll mention one more opportunity. Our weekly Coffee and Toast ministry continues to grow, and we’re looking for sponsors for August, October, and November. You can sponsor an entire month or even just a single week. Every sponsorship helps provide breakfast, coffee, and a place where people can simply “be” for a little while. If you’d like to help, send me an email or a message. I’d love to talk with you.
The last few weeks have also reminded me that outreach work is deeply human work.
Recently, a couple of outreach workers were arrested on drug-related charges. I also heard firsthand of another worker who went on a rage-filled rampage through Westlake, Pico-Union, and Koreatown, pulling a seven-inch knife on one convenience store operator and displaying a simulated handgun at a gas station attendant. Another individual working in outreach was discovered to be a registered sex offender.
Those stories are heartbreaking, not because they define outreach work, but because they stand in such sharp contrast to what this work is supposed to be.
I say all of that to say this:
We are human.
We make mistakes.
The problem is rarely the mistake itself. The problem comes when mistakes are allowed to fester into habit or anger. Left unchecked, they begin to shape how we treat ourselves, how we treat others, and ultimately the kind of people we become.
Throughout every chapter of my life—from broadcast news, to advocacy, and now ministry—I have tried to leave my personal drama at home. Have I always succeeded? Of course not. I’m not perfect. Not everyone is going to like me, and that’s simply part of life.
But the mission has always been bigger than me.
The work we do—together—is about building solid societies: communities where people are known, where trust is earned, and where hope can put down roots. That work requires consistency, humility, and integrity. Every interaction is an opportunity either to strengthen a relationship or to weaken one.
Over the last decade, I’ve been blessed to build relationships that mean the world to me. Some are with people experiencing homelessness, addiction, or mental health struggles. Others are with social workers, housing providers, healthcare professionals, clergy, city employees, advocates, volunteers, and allies who believe our neighbors deserve better.
Those relationships are our greatest resource. They can’t be bought, and they can’t be built overnight. They are earned one conversation, one cup of coffee, one shared meal, one kept promise, and sometimes one difficult conversation at a time.
For all the challenges, I remain hopeful.
Every week I watch people take another small step toward stability. I watch strangers become friends. I watch communities come together around a breakfast table, over a cup of coffee, or while sorting donated clothing. Those moments remind me why we keep coming back.
Building a solid society is not accomplished through grand gestures. It is built patiently, faithfully, and with love—one relationship at a time.
Thank you for being part of that work.
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