“Have you grabbed a burger yet?” He asked me.
“Not yet,” I said. “Wanna jump in line?”
“Yeah, lets go.”

It’s Friday night, just after 10:30pm, and the parties were just getting started. There we were on Del Playa Drive – one of the most infamous party streets in the nation, known for its rampant substance (especially alcohol) abuse and promiscuity. Somehow we were at the best party on the block.

This is the story of the house I stayed at last week. This is the story of the raddest party on the block. This is the story of Jesus Burgers.

—

Isla Vista, California, is the home of The University of California, Santa Barbara (UCSB) – a school known for it’s party culture.  About 15 minutes west of Santa Barbara, this town seems to have nothing but college kids and college culture.  You can’t drive a block down the street without passing at least a couple bicycles and several people on longboards. The “downtown” area is filled with restaurant after restaurant and bar after bar, with a couple coffee shops, smoothie stops, and froyo spots thrown in for good measure.

Mid-afternoon on a weekday the town has the strangest combination of being a super chill surf town, while also being rad enough to let you know that things are happening here.

Everything changes when nighttime falls and the weekend comes, as a several thousand teenagers and young adults hit the street looking for their next good time.

—

“Oh, by the way, I’m gonna have you play keys on Friday if that’s okay. Gonna use your talents while you’re here, bro!”

It’s Wednesday evening, and Mark and I are talking about our plans for the week ahead of us – he had just picked me up from the train station about a half hour earlier.
My best friend Mark moved to the Santa Barbara, California, area about a year and a half ago and we’ve been trying to find a time for me to be able to visit him ever since.  Between school during the year and work during the summer, it wasn’t until just after graduating from university this past May that I was able to. This was a week that we both had been looking forward to for months – and after a four hour flight, a 45 minute bus ride, and a nearly three hour train ride, I had arrived.

We caught up a little over dinner, and he told me a little about his house and his housemates as we babysat his niece, Hayley. (Who is the CUTEST, and super chill for a 2 year old. Also, she ate her dinner without spilling even ONE carrot onto the floor; way to go Hayley. Also, way to go Andrew and Kimmy – you’re winning at this parenting thing.)

Mark lives at a house in Isla Vista (about 15 minutes west of Santa Barbara) that has become known in the community as the “Jesus Burgers House.” This reputation has been built over the past 15 years, during which they have served hundreds of burgers every Friday night to college kids roaming the street looking for a party. The name started when someone, years ago, asked their buddy if they wanted to go get burgers from the Jesus People, which then invoked the name the “Jesus People Burgers” – and then just “Jesus Burgers.”

—

The festivities at the JB house get started at about 8pm.  There’s a garage up the driveway and behind the house that has been turned into the “prayer shed” (now the home of the Isla Vista House of Prayer) – complete with carpeting and couches. At 8pm we started praying as people were showing up – praying for the city, the church (IVC), the global Church, and for the presence of God to move powerfully that night in our midst. By the time we said amen, nearly 40 minutes later, there were probably 50 people gathered in the shed and just outside the doors on the driveway.

Then we stood up and started singing.

We led a worship set that lasted over an hour — Mark on guitar and vocals, Tess on vocals, Caleb on drums, and myself on keys/synth.  It was an awesome time as the group sang, danced, jumped, shouted, laughed, cried, and sang some more – all out of delight in our Saviour, Christ.

After the set, Bryce – the house “dad” – gave a few minutes of encouragement and inspiration to us. Then it was time to hit the street. Mark and I started cleaning up the instruments. A group started making hamburger patties. Another group went to start the bonfire. And another group got out the Free Blessings sign. Pretty much everyone had something to do – and if they didn’t know how to help, someone was able to point them in the right direction.

—

By the time we got out to the front, the first burgers had hit the grill, come off the grill, and been consumed. We stood in the front yard for a bit and chatted with people as they walked through. We sat on the wall in front of the house and encouraged passerbys to grab a burger – the line was short just then!

For a little while we stood out by the Free Blessings sign that was propped up across the street. At this sign, people could come up and get blessed – in a variety of ways! Sometimes what they needed was encouragement, sometimes prayer, sometimes healing of some sort, and sometimes just someone to listen.

While Mark and I were at the sign, a guy named Oscar came up to us. We introduced ourselves and asked what we could do. He responded that he didn’t really need anything – that life was pretty good for him right now. School was going well, he had a job, he had friends, he didn’t feel like there was anything wrong in his life. To say it in words he wouldn’t have: he felt that he was blessed. What he said to us was, “I guess I’m just thankful, yaknow? I just don’t know how to express it.” How awesome to be thankful but not know how to express it! So many of us know very well how to express our thanks to the One who has blessed us, but so many of us forget how blessed we are.

We asked if we could pray over him – he agreed. After we prayed over him, thanking and praising God for the blessings in Oscar’s life and asking for continuance of that blessing, Mark asked if he was in any pain or discomfort. As soon as Mark asked, I knew that we were about to pray for his ankle. “Well, my ankle has been hurting a bit…” Oscar said, as I grinned.  With permission, we laid hands on his ankle and prayed for healing, in the name of Jesus. We asked if he noticed a difference, and he said that it didn’t hurt. “Sometimes it doesn’t really hurt when I’m just standing though, I’ll check it out tomorrow though, yaknow.” He said, reluctantly. After thanking us again, he walked away – and I’ll likely never see him again. I still think of Oscar every couple of days, and I often wonder how his ankle feels.

Mark wandered away for a while and I stood a few feet away from the Blessings sign and talked to Brad. We exchanged a couple stories of Mark (Brad was Mark’s roommate last year, but recently moved to Austin, TX) and shared a little bit of each of our own stories and where we were in life.  After a few minutes, he asked, “Have you grabbed a burger yet?”
“Not yet,” I said. “Wanna jump in line?”
“Yeah, lets go.”

—

Later that night, as the parties were dying down – after the last burger had been grilled – there was a weird sense of peace. It wasn’t that there was a lack of peace earlier – I think I had been at peace the whole night, but just hadn’t noticed it. I think that’s something I’ve read in story after story about people visiting Jesus Burgers: that there is peace there. Even in the midst of external chaos – people roaming the streets, jumping, shouting, and dancing – there is internal peace. Our God is a God of peace.

There are times when God’s love shines brightly, bright as the spotlight from the balcony on a dark night. There are times when His presence is overwhelming, as overwhelming as the music blaring from the neighbour’s house. But His peace? I think His peace is more like the embers in the campfire. It doesn’t burn brightly and grab your attention, but when you get close to it and pay attention – it warms you, and lightens up the darkness of wherever you are.

—

“Hey, are there any more burgers?”
“No, man, sorry! We stopped grilling about a half hour ago. You can come back next week though!! Or hey, do you want a s’more?!”
“Nah, I’m good. You guys are awesome though!”

He wandered away, but a group of girls heard the word “s’mores” as they were walking past and walked up. We invited them to join us by the fire.
“Here, there’s room on this bench!”
“Hey, let me grab another chair for you.”

As we chatted, they kept expressing thankfulness, over and over again. For the s’mores, for the warm spot by the fire, and for just being there. These girls – like so many others that night, and every every Friday night during the school year – experienced a peace that they weren’t used to. Its a peace that will always be a piece of the party town near the beach. This peace lasts longer than any party, tastes better than any burger, and feels warmer than any fire. Even though they were too late for a burger, they got something far better.

S’mores are basically just dessert burgers, anyway.