Pastor offers home and hope to marginalized
.jpg?w=728)
Kim Jin-gon, 57, the basement manager, has been living and working at the Dream City homeless shelter for almost three years. / Korea Times Photo by Choi Won-suk
At Dream City, residents learn to tackle life on its terms
By Lee Ji-hye
When visitors to Dream City arrive, they are offered a steady stream of bags bulging with pastries and fruit.
"Please, have another piece of cake," said Woo Yeon-shik who manages the homeless shelter, insisting that there is “more than enough to go around."
Since 2011, the destitute people that wander the streets around the capital’s central station have found refuge during the freezing winters in the independently-funded outreach project that has much more to offer than beds and food.
Unlike other government shelters in the district, the non-denominational church project provides on-going care with a sense of community at its core, giving hope to those on the margins of society.
“Maybe just a little bit of luck," is all it took Pastor Woo Yeon-shik, 51, to open doors to a second home for those who have no place to go.
“I am no better off than these homeless people,” he says.
Having started as his idealistic dream, the shelter also includes washing facilities, haircuts, computer access, English lessons and weekly medical care -- an environment in which those that have lost all material means can begin to dream again of a brighter future.
The pastor stated firmly, "I wanted to show people that the God that I know, is a God of riches."
"My whole life has been about serving, it just came so naturally," Woo smiled humbly, causing wrinkles to form; tracks of life experience that tell their own story.
Growing up in the shadow of his father, a colonel in the Korean army, Woo said that he always remembers him not as an authoritative character, but on all fours, wiping the house floor with a hand towel.
"My father had always told me that we are here to serve, not be served," he said, admitting that he, too, wanted acknowledgement. "Of course I want people to notice me -- I want the respect that I had for my father’s humility."
Woo studied theology at a seminary in Los Angeles from 2007 to 2010, where he also helped the homeless by serving meals.
In his mid-forties, he lost his brother to stomach cancer.
"Everything started falling apart," he said. "I was endlessly fighting with my wife, and I felt most betrayed from church pastors," he stated. "But in the end, I knew that what I pursued and what other pastors pursued was a bit different."
A man walked up to Woo and grunted in clear American English, "Pastor, I just wanna wash my feet."
Steve Hahm, 52, is dressed the same as the majority of the other homeless men, with thick layers of clothing and strands of white hair among several weeks of stubble. He spoke perfect English, conspicuously audible above the general chatter in Korean, as he made his way through the crowd at the homeless shelter.
The pastor reached for a microphone suspended from the ceiling and called out a message that blared through speakers installed on all three floors of the building.
"Steve, Steve is going for a bath," he said, as a man walks through the door to escort a shivering man with cracked skin and pieces of food visible between his teeth to the bathroom.
"We've been trying to get him to wash all week, and now finally he is!" Woo laughed and patted the man.
Back in Hawaii, he had a string of short-term jobs at fast-food restaurants that didn’t work out. His wife worked as a janitor to support their five kids.
"She was real pretty," he said. "I'll never forget her, the love of my life."
He also described his hobby of watching movies at the Lotte Cinema in Myeongdong, collecting eight 1000-won bills from begging to pay for his ticket.
"I don't like that romance, too-much-drama stuff," he said with a grin. "I like the action type, like the Die Hard movies."
The man scratched his beard as he said, "I miss the Honolulu sun - it's too cold here."
A tall man with a round face bustled around the basement floor of the homeless shelter approached Hahm, handing him a towel as he collected hooded sweatshirts and jeans, asking the temporary residents to keep their clothes clean.
"You sure you don't want to wash those clothes? Our laundry machine can fit more!" said Kim Jin-gon, 57, the basement floor manager, as he looked over his papers stacked inside a binder, and checked-off the names to write descriptions for each piece of clothing that he receives.
"Red fleece zip-up jacket, light blue Levis, black turtle-neck sweater," he scribbled onto a notepad.
"It may not seem like it, but every object placed in this room is labeled, documented, and organized very carefully," Kim said, pulling up his oversize pants.
"After a failed attempt with a family business, Pastor Woo gave me food, a job, and a sense of responsibility again," Kim added that he never wants to leave. "It's what found me when I lost myself."
Woo chuckled at Kim's remarks, "I know that churches don’t last forever, but it's worth trying to give as much as I can."
“I want people to come in and wonder, ‘why is this man so endlessly giving?’” Woo said.
"After all, that's what we Christians are here for, aren't we?"