The Dregs…

John and I were asked to share in my brother’s church about how we had found our answer to the question the crowds put to Jesus in Luke 3: “What shall we do?” I wrote the following in preparation for his church and shared part of it the last Sunday in July.

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It started as a kind of gnawing in the stomach. We would wake up on Sunday mornings with a sick feeling that soon became familiar, and we wondered what was wrong with us. Looking like my favorite aunt had died I would insist that our children put on their Sunday best – always a struggle. Then we would urge them to eat their cereal quickly as we choked down our own breakfast. After the required minimum amount of bickering and complaining from the kids, we would drive to church while the gnawing in our stomachs grew into full-fledged mastication with Tyrannosaurus-sized teeth. When the morning was over, we would quietly climb into our van looking as though we had just attended the funeral of the aforementioned aunt. The drive home would be silent with the exception of childish chants and sound effects coming from the seats behind us. We would often muster enough strength a few minutes before arriving at home to speak our distress and commiserate with each other.

After months of silently wondering what was wrong with us, we began a conversation with some friends, mostly because we couldn’t handle the pressure of keeping silent any longer. We didn’t fit into the mold of our church anymore, and we didn’t know what to do about it. We were longing for something more, something that was fanned into flame in our smaller community of believers within the church, but at that particular point in time, we didn’t know exactly what that “something more” was. Our friends listened as we began the conversation, and as it continued we heard the same longing in some of their voices. There was something (or rather Someone) deeply beautiful and mysterious beckoning to us. Our dialogue rapidly turned into dreams and visions and bonded us together in deep and joyful ways.

We envisioned ourselves doing something significant, something we couldn’t define at first beyond being a church for the ignored, impoverished class of Springfield, Ohio. We wanted to move into a neighborhood, adopt it as a place we loved and didn’t fear, and meet needs in a way that would truly be Good News for people who had an infinity of reasons not to trust us or God. And then we began dreaming more specifically: art and music classes for the children of the neighborhood, a counseling center, practical help, neighborhood parties and meals, sacred space where people could come anytime and seek out God in ways less threatening than traditional middle class ones. On and on our visions continued until this unknown neighborhood was mentally gleaming with the wholeness and love we would bring straight from Jesus.

The trouble was, to find such a place, we would have to start it ourselves. And we had no money, no neighborhood, and no place to meet. We were dreamers without the means to make our dreams a reality. But God knew, and he must have been chuckling affectionately as we bumbled around, not knowing that all the details had been orchestrated already.

Through circumstances that now feel somewhat unreal, a local foundation approached our group to start a church to support an urban ministry that was already working with children and families in numerous practical ways around the city. And within the space of a few months, the Turner Foundation bought a historical church building (the Red Brick Church) in the center of the city for us to meet in and helped us forge a partnership with the Children’s Rescue Center and Daily Bread Food Ministries. Midtown Christian Community was born, and we have not been the same since.

As our church moved into the neighborhood, we began meeting people there on their own doorsteps on Saturday afternoons before church. We passed out small food items like pasta and sauce or loaves of bread. We did this on a regular basis before church and focused on the relationships we might build with these neighbors as well as helping with their expressed needs. We asked them questions: “What is it that this neighborhood needs?” and “How can our church give something to this neighborhood?” Although we had entertained many dreams before we became a physical presence in the neighborhood, we recognized that our shining ideals were nothing compared with the real needs of the people to whom we had come to minister God’s love. Indeed, we weren’t entirely sure how we could join God’s mission to the North Hill neighborhood of Springfield, Ohio, and once we arrived, we wondered if we were truly up to the task.

A couple of weeks after meeting our neighbors, on the whim of a college student, we held our first cookout on the church grounds. Free food spoke volumes to our neighbors! In an astonishingly short time, many neighbors began viewing Midtown as part of the neighborhood, a resource for help, and a place to hang out for good food and conversation. And the children came! Children came from blocks around every week: white, black, and hispanic. And we began to see how we might be Good News in our urban neighborhood.

Today, our church building houses a food and clothing pantry, an afterschool teen center, an African-American church that meets on Sunday mornings, and our church, Midtown Christian Community, that meets on Saturday nights. In addition to helping run the food and clothing pantry, we partner with the ministries in our building to reach out to the neighborhood, meeting specific needs as they arise. We have done everything from finding and installing new appliances and furniture to raking leaves in the fall. Many neighbors have stopped and questioned us as we pick up trash on the street. We often visit our neighbors at their houses with small gifts before church and invite them to the free meal after our worship gatherings, regardless of whether or not they join us for church. Our kids’ program is famous in the neighborhood and is always packed with children. Special neighborhood events are another avenue that bring us together with our neighbors. Fun, food and free stuff are always welcome whenever they occur.

Every week hungry, homeless, or drug addicted adults come through our doors. Victims of violence are everywhere around us, child and adult alike. We try to make sure that nobody leaves without a full stomach and enough conversation to let them know that they are loved bearers of God’s image, recognizing that true reconciliation includes relationships with others as well as with God. And because they all have different stories, we listen, hoping that in time, they will be ready to listen to the gentle whisperings of the Spirit.

We can hardly fathom what transformation will look like in these war-torn but beautiful people who are gradually learning to trust us and, hopefully, the Jesus we bear with so much thanks. Where this will lead in the next year, we don’t know. Maybe we will need to change our kids’ program yet again, and perhaps I will take a paid position with a youth homelessness prevention program. The needs of urban Springfield require a certain flexibility to which we are still becoming accustomed.

As a fellow Midtown brother says of our interactions with our church neighbors, “We are being continually saved.” And indeed, it seems that way. We perpetually repent of our self-centeredness in order to be the people of God in the North Hill neighborhood of Springfield, Ohio. But the relationships, the baby steps into the love of Christ, and the smile of God that warms us are fitting rewards.