Keep Portland Weird (and other lofty goals)
In a way, we’re all weird.
I’m pretty sure it comes with the territory of being human.
Once upon a time, Portland, Oregon, like so many other large American metropolises was a normal, vibrant, family-friendly city. As a child, I remember visiting the heart of Portland with my parents. We’d shop at the Lloyd Center mall where I’d be mesmerized by the outdoor ice-skating rink. Downtown, Meier & Frank’s Santaland was a Christmas display worth giving a gander. And the Grand Floral parade was a great way to kick off the summer, as we lined up along Broadway to watch floats rumble through the Rose City, covered in all things organic. Back then, there was nothing to fear on the streets of downtown, except maybe tripping over a curb or dropping my hard-earned dime down a storm drain.
In our early adult years, my husband and I enjoyed time in Portland, visiting its many iconic restaurants, riding the Max to attend a Portland Trail Blazers game, or taking a stroll through Tom McCall Waterfront Park along the edge of the Willamette River.
Not anymore.
Sadly, Portland is only a shadow of what it used to be. It’s no longer a safe-for-the-whole-family entertainment hub. Our beloved city has become a laughing stock to the rest of the nation for its deterioration—high crime, open drug-use, and rampant homelessness—and as a result, businesses are shuttering their doors. It’s a sad state of affairs despite real, meaningful efforts to breathe new life into the city. I won’t mention some of the obvious failures, but I am intrigued by a program implemented in 2003 as a support to local businesses. It seems that Portlanders put their collective heads together and crafted a brilliant innovative solution guaranteed to give Portland the reputation it deserves:
The Keep Portland Weird Campaign.
Sounds promising, right?
To be fair, the point of the slogan was to focus on what is unique about Portland by celebrating individuality and diversity. Through this effort, Portland has become known for mustaches and man buns, beanies and duck boots, bike lanes and layered clothing. And it has been touted the Best Pizza City in America for its pizzas topped with foraged flowers and wild mushrooms or fried green tomatoes and marinated grapes.
Portland is also home to the world’s smallest park (a single tree, in a 2- foot diameter circle in the median strip of the very busy NW Naito Parkway). Not an ideal place to throw a frisbee, or host a 3-legged race—but I’m guessing it’s been tried.
And then there’s Voodoo Donuts, a bakery that specializes in a cream-filled donut, shaped like a voodoo doll with a pretzel sticking out of it. Crazy, but delicious!
Perhaps the weirdest of all is the World Naked Bike Ride that takes place every August in protest of fossil fuels. All you need to know is right there in the title. I’m not sure how this event benefits the planet, but it would seem that any measurable gain is outweighed by the unpleasant side-effects—eye pollution and much needed therapy for those who stumble upon it by mistake. Needless to say, we stay far away when that little gem rolls through.
The list of all-things-weird goes on, but you get the idea.
As a Portlander myself, I’ve adopted a few Portland-ish customs some might consider weird, but in our city they’re perfectly legit. For instance, I’ve been known to wear socks with sandals or flip-flops regardless of the weather, but especially when its cloudy or rainy—which is most of the time. And despite horrified looks from my teenagers back in the day, I’ve found it beneficial to wear a fanny-pack from time-to-time whether it’s trendy or not. And, like most Portlanders, I never carry an umbrella in the rain. Why? Because it’s always raining. So who needs one?
In other words, I do my part.
With the new year upon us, I’ve checked in with people about their New Year’s resolutions, and I’ve heard the usual suspects: eat better, lose weight, cut out alcohol, exercise more, read through the Bible in a year. All of these are good healthy goals. But the most common response I got was, “I don’t make New Year’s resolutions.”
I can get on board with that.
Truth be told, I don’t usually make New Year’s Resolutions either. I prefer to set goals for myself, without getting January 1st involved. One such goal was back in college, when I decided to take running more seriously and participate in a fun run on my college campus. My roommate was on the track team and she encouraged me to join her. In preparation, we did some workouts together. Even so, come race day I wasn’t nearly as prepared as I had hoped. Having never run a long-distance race before, I started off way too fast. On top of that, it was a very hot day, so when I hit a steep hill during mile three, I was sure I was going to pass out. Finally, I just stopped running and walked the rest of the way to the finish line. I felt like I’d failed.
Looking back, it was actually an accomplishment to go from taking an occasional one-mile jog to running 3.1 miles on a challenging course in the heat. At least I crossed the finish line, even if I did resort to walking. Setting the goal allowed me to accomplish something I might not have otherwise. And I learned some things about fun runs that I carry with me to this day: pace myself, consider the elements, and have fun. I mean, it is in the title! That first race set me on a trajectory to run other 5K’s 10K’s and eventually work my way up to a 15K—The Cascade Runoff—which started and ended at the Burnside Bridge in downtown Portland.
Ah, Portland.
When I drive through downtown of my beloved city and see sleeping bags and tents and garbage piles and soggy clothing, I don’t see weird.
I see desperation.
And whether it’s a physical need or a spiritual one—we humans have both—God is in the business of taking that which is weak, broken, discarded—or weird, even—and making it something of value for his good purposes. The homeless crisis is complex, but at the heart is a need for more than just food and shelter. There’s a God-shaped void in each one of us.
That is why we all need Jesus.
I realize that to a world that doesn’t know God, Christianity may seem weird. And it’s not just because Christians sit in pews on Sunday mornings. (Who came up with that name for the church benches, anyway? Did a skunk get loose in the chapel?)
But I digress.
The Apostle Paul acknowledged this, saying, “For the word of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” (1 Cor. 1:18). He didn’t let the response of some keep him from embracing what he knew to be true. And having experienced redemption firsthand, after viciously persecuting Christians himself (see his story in Acts 9), he let nothing stand in the way as he proclaimed the good news to others. In Romans he says, “For I am not ashamed of the gospel for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes.” (Rom. 1:16). Facing persecution, imprisonment—even death—from those who were hostile to the risen Christ, Paul did not stop proclaiming the truth about salvation through Jesus Christ to everyone around him. He didn’t let the fear of weird stop him.
All of this got me thinking. If some people make being weird their end goal, how much more should I be willing to be seen as weird for pursuing Christ and sharing him with others. Being labeled weird is a far cry from the persecution Christians are facing daily in other parts of the world.
In other words, to a world that celebrates all things weird, Christ followers should be the first to stand up and proclaim the healing truth of the gospel without reservation or fear.
So, if I have a New Year’s resolution this year, it’s just that. I want to be bold about sharing my faith and pointing people to the hope freely available to all through Jesus Christ, who loves, redeems, and saves. It is a hope worth sharing.
Even in Portland, Oregon.
Especially in Portland, Oregon.
Jen♡
