When I served as a pastor in Michigan, people often requested that I join them in prayer. I remember an elderly woman who periodically asked me to pray for relief from her arthritis as we stood in the hallway on Sunday mornings. Last year, my neighbor and I were catching up on family and work along the curb of our street. When I casually asked how he was doing personally, this tough, grown man began shedding tears. He shared a painful story and how he could see God’s hand watching over him throughout his life. He soon leaned in close and whispered, “Will you pray with me here in my front yard?” Several weeks ago, our elderly neighbor knocked on our front door, requesting prayer for her hurting legs.

We are learning church to be movement with and within community.

Even with the struggles it has caused me over the years, the church is where my faith has been birthed and nurtured. And I am now discovering that church is happening everywhere. Church seems to have no boundaries. God’s kingdom is spacious and expansive. Some of my greatest moments of joy have been with leaders in the underground church of North Africa and the Near East, or visiting with pastors and workers in Central America, West Africa, Europe and Asia. Right now, Jesus-followers are gathering throughout the world—in huts and shacks, streets and villages, towns and megacities. The mobility and adaptability of Christ-ones around the globe is an amazing picture. In recent months, our family has experienced church in the heart of Atlanta, in the hood, where a few of us gather in homes, or breakfast joints, on streets or at our church building. Whether sharing a meal or waving to a neighbor or praying together, the church, even in this neglected urban neighborhood, remains vibrant and moving. She’s still radiant, full of hope, and central to God’s kingdom.

I believe God is breathing new vision, forming fresh expressions of church that go beyond our former paradigms of how we view church. I know I must be careful not to make sweeping generalizations, labeling every expression of Kingdom activity “real church” or “not church” or “parachurch.” I’ve seen such artificial distinctions only cause divisions in the Body of Christ. The way of Jesus is a culture that crosses all of our boundaries. A timeless unrestrained culture is among us, a kingdom culture that supersedes our idiosyncrasies and fallacies. God’s culture of faith, hope and love embraces the beauty of our cultural diversity and worldviews. Our endeavor is to orient our lives within God’s kingdom. We are demanding of ourselves love and integrity, and we are attempting to engage relationships with open-handed humility in which we learn as students of those around us. What if “us” and “them” became “we?”

South Atlanta is a one-mile stretch of life, destitution, despair, hope, elders, children, prostitution, wholeness, battle, drugs, togetherness, diversity, bright eyes, future, light, darkness, crime, history, culture and beauty. South Atlanta has many wonderful attributes and troubling generational cycles. Our dreams are for a community that is safe for children and an environment where the peace and shalom of God pervade. The present reality we see out our windows is a neighborhood with virtually no sidewalks, no grocery store, no medical center, little commercial business, run-down homes and boarded-up foreclosures and a handful of uninvolved commuter churches. How can “the church” change such dire realities into goodness and wholeness? I believe the future of church in our neighborhood rests upon a commitment to stand with our local community, learning though interdependent relationships. The restoration of our industrial neighborhood will take people from all walks of life working together over time.

The way we think about our neighborhood determines how we act within our neighborhood, and renewing our minds lends to our action. We say we trust a whole gospel to meet the needs of our whole neighborhood, and yet many of us have more questions than answers about the raw, slow struggle to become church to and with our neighbors. When 14-year-old “T” thinks it’s funny that his “friends” are beating up elderly homeless folks, church is needed in the form of strategic neighbors who move in and build relationships with such students before they end up in prison. When hazardous pollution is causing children like 1-year-old Jaylin to develop asthma, church is needed to reclaim poisoned land and create mixed-income eco-villages, making housing developments healthy and affordable for the marginalized. When slumlords are making large profits while their renters barely survive in ram-shackled homes, church is needed in the form of vocational neighbors, such as kingdom-minded businesses and real estate experts, to attain and rehab properties for future homeowners.

Church, if it is going to have an impact on South Atlanta, is far more than meeting on Sunday in a dedicated place of worship. Doing church requires new eyes for us to see every part of our neighborhood as “sacred space” with hope for redemption. Church involves active engagement to empower the disinherited with the hopeful and living way of Jesus Christ. And that involves doing justice. It is not enough for the church to merely become “missional.” We must become “relational” as we do life with our neighbors. As we join this community, it is becoming clear to us that our mission here is to become extended family with those we live and serve beside, joining God’s movement as “church” out there, or here, lived out in this place we now call home.

During a lively discussions with a group of upper-classmen, I posed a question. “What is the number one mandate of the followers of Christ?”, I asked them.

“Evangelize!” came the immediate and emphatic response.

I pushed them a little harder: “But what did Christ say was top priority?”

“Make disciples?”, they offered with a little hesitation.

“I know that evangelizing and making disciples is important”, I agreed, “but what did Christ actually say was that most important mandate for His followers?”

After a moment or two of puzzled silence, a student in the back of the room ventured a hesitant response: “You mean ‘Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart, mind, soul and strength and thy neighbor as thyself’”?

“Sure,” I concurred. “That’s what our Lord said was the greatest command, didn’t He?” There seemed to be general consensus. “Given that scripture declares this to be our number one mandate, then what courses do you have here on neighboring? I know you have an entire department of evangelism. Who teaches Neighboring 101?”

There was an uncomfortable silence as the implications of my question began to sink in. “We don’t have any courses on neighboring”, they admitted.

“Then this Bible college is just not biblical enough”, I declared. So fundamental to the life of faith are these twin teachings that they are given top priority in God’s original hand-written instructions for daily living. Christ later underscored their central importance by declaring that the entire law is contained in these two inseparable commands: love God and love neighbor. A Christian training institute that steps over these basics on the way to “deeper” theological pursuits can hardly be considered Biblically faithful.

“Do you believe in a literal heaven and a literal hell!?” one sharp young theology student retorted. I knew the rationale behind his question. If you believe that either eternal bliss or eternal damnation awaits every person after death, then the most loving act is to present the truth of the Gospel to as many as possible and thus save them from everlasting destruction. It’s a compelling argument. The problem, of course, is that it leads toward the viewing others as souls instead of people. And when we opt for rescuing souls over loving neighbors, compassionate acts can soon degenerate into evangelism techniques. Pressing human needs depreciate in importance – the spirit becomes the only thing worth caring about. Thus, the powerful leaven of unconditional, sacrificial love is diminished in society and the wounded are left laying beside the road.

“I can see you have your theology buttoned down well”, I admitted. “But I think the more important question is: ‘What did Christ say we should be about?’”

I don’t expect to be invited back as a guest speaker in the near future.

At first I thought this minister must be addressing a congregation but I soon discovered that it was a media audience, not a gathered body, to whom he spoke. He was speaking to me! He informed me that I need not go to a building to belong to his church, that I could have spiritual unity with members all over TV land right where I was. He went on to explain how together we could raise a volume of prayer heavenward from across the nation and have mighty power on high. He then read a letter from one of our fellow-members – a young woman who was experiencing a marital dilemma – and offered some sage pastoral counsel that we could all listen in on and benefit from. After an upbeat sermonette and some lovely music, he explained that money was needed to keep the work of the church going forward and encouraged us to send in our tithes and offerings.

Brilliant, I thought. Absolutely brilliant. This minister had figured out how to do church without all the messiness of relationships. No more petty power struggles, no more ugly gossip, no more bickering over doctrinal fine points or what color to paint the sanctuary. And we don’t even have to leave the privacy of our living rooms! We can sit in our robes on Sunday morning sipping our coffee and be at church. Then, just as I was pondering the genius of this cyber-church pastor’s methodology, he leaned forward so that his whole face filled my TV screen and he said with an expression of total sincerity, “I love you.” I could almost feel it, see it in his eyes! This man really loved me! Never met me, of course, but in some cosmic way his love was coming right at me. Unbelievable!

Fine-tune your perceptual scanner and you can pick up in this cyber-church strategy a hidden message aimed at a society that values individuality over community. It whispers: You can have both community and independence…you can enjoy intimacy on demand while maintaining your autonomy. Laced with warm-family-togetherness type words, the message has a seductive attraction for those who desire the benefits of closeness but prefer to remain relationally uncommitted.

Broaden your scan beyond the cyber-church and you discover that this subtle appeal is not limited to the ethereal church of the airwaves. Virtual-relationships with thousands of anonymous TV watchers may be the epitome of pseudo-community, but let’s be honest. How authentic is the “community” of the now predominant commuter church that extracts its scattered members from neighborhoods far and wide for an hour-long weekly event?

Church in its very essence is relational. Its power is made manifest in interdependent community. Its most visible expression is witnessed in acts of kindness and self-sacrifice among those who live their lives within sight of each other. As emotionally powerful as studio-produced worship may be, unless it takes root in the soil of community where relationships are immediate and accountable, it is no church at all. Even worse, it may be anti-church. Any program or structure, whether technological or social, that draws people away from redemptive, corrective relationships is anti-church. Any organization, no matter how spiritual it appears, that distances people from their neighbors is anti-church. The cyber-church, removed from the grit and grind of human interaction, exposes for us a wholly unintended yet powerfully prophetic message: the extent to which the church is disconnected from the soil of community is the extent to which it relinquishes its capacity to impact society.

This is certainly not to say that evangelistic broadcasting or telecasts of religious services necessarily sabotage the mission of the church. On the contrary, they can beam Good News to isolated peoples or keep homebound parishioners in contact with their church. Admittedly, it may be difficult to distinguish between the ministry-value and marketing-value of televised church services, but technology is hardly a demonic weapon designed to destroy the church. It can serve as a tool for community-connecting just as easily as it can be an instrument of isolation.

The issue is not technology. The issue is relational engagement. The power of the church is released into society when the gathered saints are equipped and sent out to engage in redemptive relationships among their neighbors and co-workers. That which discourages the people of God from gathering for worship, study and fellowship is quite likely at cross-purposes with the Kingdom. That which draws the people of God away from caring relationships with their neighbors and away from service in their community is also quite likely not of Kingdom design. Just as the cyber-church can work against the church gathered, so can the commuter church can work against the church deployed.

And, oh yes, about the prayer theology that my self-appointed cyber-pastor was advocating: can a simul-prayer of scattered fellow-members lifting our anonymous voices really have unusual power on high? It seems to me that our Lord said that when two or three of us are gathered in His name, there He would meet with us. And if even two of us would agree together on something, anything, He would answer our prayer. Sounds very relational to me. But, then, I suppose it would take more of a prayer scholar than I am to intelligently critique cyber-prayer.

Later that fateful night they all scattered, of course, running like scared rabbits as their Teacher was arrested. And that pretty much set the precedent for those who would later come to be known as “Christ-ones” — gather and scatter, gather and scatter. Down through the ages, with some amazing exceptions of martyrdom and self-sacrifice that seared images of an unimaginable love onto the pages of history, the pattern of gather and scatter has been the norm. A group here who followed Peter, another there who held to Paul’s teaching, this faction clinging to orthodoxy, that welcoming new revelation. Unity has been enormously difficult to achieve and even harder to sustain.

Protestants — protest-ants — the group of Christ-ones with whom my membership is staked, broke and scattered from the Catholics back a few hundred years ago over how the church was being run, attempted reconciliation a few times, but have been quite content to remain separate from one another. The band of Protestant believers that I was raised in split up over slavery a hundred and fifty years back, divided several more times over doctrinal fine points, and most recently split again over the definition of worldliness. The group I am currently a member of are on the verge of severing fellowship over the place of gays and lesbians in the church. For some reason laying down our lives for a cause seems much easier than laying down even our preferences for fellow-believers. Unity among the diverse followers of Christ is one enormous challenge. Little wonder that He devoted His last meal, His final admonition, His concluding prayer, to underscore its importance to the faith.

So how are we doing, currently? Actually, the overt rancor and animosity among Christ-ones seems to have quieted down just a bit lately — not as much public name-calling and stone-throwing as in some past years. Political correctness has evidently helped us in this regard. But what goes on behind the stained glass of our gathering places is hardly visible to the on-looking world, unless, of course, our conflicts become interesting enough to make the evening news. Getting along well together within our separate sanctuaries is certainly important, but not particularly noteworthy. No, it’s in our neighborhoods and workplaces in the normal course of living where the faith becomes visible, observable. If, as the Teacher said, people are to become convinced of His divinity, it will be as a result of seeing an unusual kind of love demonstrated among fellow-believers not inside the temple but right out on the street where we live our daily lives.

So how are we doing with His new command? How is it showing in the places where we live? What do our neighbors observe about our relationships with other fellow believers in the office and on the block? Does it seem curious to you that most Christians in America drive right past their neighbors’ homes on the way to church, never knowing their names, let alone what they believe? Nor do we feel comfortable in the workplace asking others about their faith, lest we offend or intrude into “private” matters. If the Teacher really meant what He said, “By this shall all men know you are my followers, by the love you have for one another,” how then are Christ-ones to demonstrate their faith when they avoid relating to each other?

Imagine this. What if we got really inspired one Sunday morning and left church all fired up to obey Jesus and do something really radical with His new command? What if we determined to find out who all the believers are on our street, meet them personally, and find out about their faith journey. What if we affirmed the legitimacy of each other’s religious experience, tried to learn from them, even looked for the common ground upon which we have built our varying beliefs. What if we set aside for a moment the labels that we use to judge and separate ourselves — fundamentalist, liberal, Pentecostal, Catholic, gay, straight, Republican, Democrat, pro-life, pro-choice, etc. — and embarked on an honest search to discover how (if?)the Spirit of God works in the lives of fellow-believers who differ dramatically from us? Is it possible that we would find the Spirit alive in those we have un-Christianized and written off as ignorant, narrow minded, blind, even degenerate or apostate? Might we even develop an appreciative understanding that would cause us to value each other, pray for each other, even become committed friends? Now that would attract some attention, wouldn’t it?

Keep praying for us, Teacher. Would that we could call you Lord. But as You said, “Why do you call me Lord when you don’t obey my commands?”

From a distance it looks like a grove of trees, a forest of tropical figs. Come closer and you discover that the branches are all inter-connected. The trunks grow out of the ground separately but their limbs are joined together. Leafy foliage stretches heavenward toward the sun while on the underneath side their limbs send down aerial roots in search of moisture and nutrients from the soil. As these descending shoots take root and grow, they mature into trunks that send new branches skyward to join their extended family. The process repeats itself over and over again. The banyan tree becomes a banyan grove.

A banyan is very different from an oak tree. The oak sprouts from a single acorn, fights its way up from the forest floor and, if it can secure enough sunlight from among competing seedlings, emerges as a sturdy, towering hardwood. Its overshadowing dominance discourages other trees from growing within its drip-line. A mature oak is a stately specimen that can endure for a hundred or more years.

The banyan tree does not grow tall like an oak nor is it as majestic. It stays closer to the earth, content to stretch its rooty limbs outward over an ever-expanding terrain. Its grain is not handsome and straight like that of the oak but neither is it as vulnerable to lightning strikes or hurricane-force winds.

FCS Urban Ministries has developed much more like a banyan than an oak. Over the years it has grown into a family of inter-connected ministries. Each member develops its own support network that draws life-giving resources from different ground. It has no high-visibility vertical structure to attract public attention and draw in substantial funding. Rather, it grows by increments close to the soil of community, one ministry emerging from another. Some programs reach out faster and farther than others, depending on their visionary energy, cultural climate, and some indeterminable mystery hidden deep in their DNA. Other programs seem content to mature at a slower pace.

Like a banyan, FCS draws its life-sustaining nutrients through a support system that extends far beyond the parent tree. Over time, it is even difficult to determine from which trunk the grove-family first originated. Each member is viable in its own right, yet made even stronger by its interconnections with the family. In times of economic drought, the work of seeking out new aquifers is shared across its expansive root system. When winds of adversity whip against one program, the others are there to provide stability. When lightning flashes, all members may feel the threat but, unlike higher profile organizations, none fear that a hostile assault will topple the entire ministry.

The network of programs, non-profit corporations, partnerships and informal relationships that comprises the FCS family of ministries is less an intentional organizational strategy than a natural convergence of callings. To some it would appear haphazard and, in truth, no one but the Creator knows where new shoots will appear. Though it is difficult to project a five year plan, it is an environment that spawns and incubates visions, allows them to develop at their own pace, and encourages them to emerge toward their created purpose.

To those who are our faithful supply-sources, the FCS family offers our heart-felt thanks. We are grateful for the confidence you have placed n us that has allowed us to grow steadily, modestly, without a lot of fanfare, for nearly thirty years. We appreciate your investing with us even when the soil we have chosen is rocky and the environment hostile. Thank you for being the essential, life-giving nutrients for our ministry.

The church has always been the glue that holds community together. At least that’s how it has been historically in our society. On prominent street comers in virtually every neighborhood in the nation, whether small town or big city, the church was visibly located at the center of human intercourse. Ministers lived in parsonages (or manses or rectories) among their parishioners. They provided a moral and spiritual compass for merchants and mailmen, beauticians and homemakers who sat in the pews each Sunday. The “preacher’s kids” played ball in the park and walked to school with the children of the neighborhood. And when the reverend stood to address the PTA, his voice carried the weight of authority, not only as a parent but as the pastor of parents. The church was both in and of the community.

Though the theology and worship style may have differed significantly from church to church, they were all built on the same bedrock belief of loving God and loving neighbor. Friendly (and sometimes serious) competition for the souls of prospective members was often set aside for inspirational events like joint Easter sunrise services planned by the local ministerial alliance. And there were poor and homeless people who could best be served by the coordinated efforts of caring members from all the churches. The church with its diversity of religious expression, represented the conscience and compassion of the community.

But all that has changed. The words and the worship may still be similar but the power of the church to effect community is virtually gone. That’s because the church is no longer of the community. Our nation has changed from a society of neighbors to a society of commuters. With the advent of urban sprawl and four car families, neighborhood life has largely disappeared, and with it the community church. We talk community more than ever but no longer live it. The cutting-edge contemporary church is now a multi-use facility with ample parking, preferably located near an expressway exit, where members and guests can
conveniently commute for enjoyable dining, recreation, a menu of classes and affinity groups, stimulating worship experiences and excellent child care, all in one place. Community has been redefined as the interaction among commuters who participate together in church activities. But when church is over, congregants drive home to different zip codes and close their garage doors behind them.

Community disconnected from the places where people live is transitory; church disconnected from the soil of neighborhood is impotent. Church that extracts the best of its members’ time, talent and tithe out of their neighborhoods rather than mobilizes members to invest their lives where they live actually serves as the competitor of community life . The commuter church may be successful as an institution but, unlike the parish church it no longer has the power to infuse neighborhoods with the moral and spiritual glue needed to hold them together.

How can we bring the church back into our communities? I suspect this would be as difficult as enticing customers back to the town square once they have experienced shopping at the mall. The parish church has a certain nostalgic appeal but it no longer satisfies the demands of the religious consumer. Like the disappearing mom and pop store, the economies of scale are just not there. Though the idea of community is appealing to a society that has forgotten how to neighbor, the church as we now know it is not structured to deliver community in the neighborhoods where people live.

For some months now an idea has been invading my thought life. I can’t tell yet whether or not it’s the embryo of a new vision but I am certainly aware of its persistence. It’s not a new concept, really. Actually, its an adaptation of a very old tradition known as “the village parson” or “the parish priest.” I can’t help wondering if it could be a means of bringing the influence of the church back into the community. Here’s how it might work.

We would recruit and assign a minister to a specific neighborhood. It may be a high-rise neighborhood or a gated apartment community or a new in-town loft development – any limited geographic area whose residents share a common boundary. He (or she) would be commissioned to move in and become a resident “community chaplain” whose mission is to promote the love of God and the love of neighbor. This minister will not start a church. Rather, he will view everyone m his neighborhood as a member of his parish regardless of religious affiliation or spiritual interest. He will function as a community life facilitator, knowing everyone by name and encouraging his neighbors to learn each other’s names. He will discover the unique talents and interests of his neighbors and facilitate their use in the community He will organize a welcome committee to greet new residents. He will involve neighbors in producing a monthly newsletter that contains a calendar of activities and events, human interest stories, celebrations and concerns, an inspirational column and other helpful information. He will model friendliness and mutual respect among his neighbors and be available as a mediator, confessor and counselor. He will reinforce spiritual life through in-home Bible studies, community service projects and pastoral care. He will attend church on Sunday and will encourage parishioners to worship at a church of their choice. His primary focus, however, will be the quality of spiritual and social life in his parish the other six days of the week.

Who will pay the salary of this minister-without-a-congregation? Probably not the institutional church since such ministry would not directly serve its self-interest. It will take a faith-motivated real estate developer or apartment owner who understands the importance of the church in community to cover the cost out of his operational budget. This may not be so unreasonable. Smart developers are aware that community sells well these days. Yet, beyond a clubhouse or fitness center, few have figured out how to deliver it. Creating
dynamic community life where people feel valued and enjoy a sense of inclusion and belonging may not only be good ministry – it may be good business as well. It could pay for itself in reduced turnover and marketing costs alone.

I’ve decided to test the idea. This year we will recruit six community chaplains, place them in a variety of settings (from inner-city to up-town) and begin learning together the ministry of community building. Six real estate developers, excited to see what new life might emerge from such ministry, have already made commitments to hire these chaplains. Who knows? If this is a sure-enough vision rather than just another bright idea, it could catch on and grow into an effective new paradigm for community ministry. Wouldn’t it be delicious humor if God selected an antiquated “parish priest” model to reclaim a fragmented modern society and chose real estate developers to be His primary visionaries?!

To be continued…

Now watch as the construction and renovation begins on the houses across the street and the new neighbors move in. See the dynamics of power begin to shift as concerned residents begin to meet and strategize? Teams of foot patrol police begin to appear, unannounced and at unexpected times. Traffic noticeably diminishes. The drug enterprise that has flourished for years with impunity in this neighborhood begins to flounder. Young dealers are laid off. There is no confrontation, no overt battle lines drawn – just the uneasy awareness that this enterprise will not do well under the vigilant gaze of new neighbors who have come to stay. The kingpin reads the signs, reluctantly resigns to the inevitable and moves out.

What about all the unemployed young people the dealer leaves behind? There are new influences in the community now – like Daryl, the new neighbor who likes kids and likes basketball. He puts up a hoop in his back yard and invites the boys in for a game. He asks them if they want to form a team and play in Atlanta Youth Project’s league. The girls volunteer as cheerleaders. Sweat and discipline earn jerseys and starting line-up positions, and healthy relationships begin to knit. Summer comes. “Coach Daryl” asks if any of them have ever been to summer camp. None have. But fourteen teenage boys say they are interested.

Camp – two weeks of high adventure with a high-nutrition diet of personal affirmation, specially designed to nourish attention-deprived spirits. For the first time in their lives, fourteen young men feast on the nectar of unconditional tough love. Their street-hardened outer protections crack and their innermost longings are exposed. They encounter the One who has loved them from the beginning.

Life on the corner looks very different these days. The blatant drug hustling is gone. Children ride their scooters under the watchful eyes of caring neighbors. And the fourteen young men whose lives were changed at summer camp? Some of their stories would inspire you. Some are coaching younger kids in our athletic teams. Several are now in college. A couple would break your heart. But good seeds sewn are never sewn in vain.

Invest with us this summer, won’t you? We want every child with whom we are involved to experience the wonder of summer camp. The cost this year for a full summer of activity is $100 per child. Some will be able to pay but most need sponsorship. Will you and/or your Sunday school class or company be the silent angels for one or more of these young ones? I thank you in advance on their behalf.

When I look out over the pond, now covered with algae, I remember a pond that seemed much larger, with a surface that was smooth until grandpa tossed out a handful of fish food from the bank. I remember casting our fishing lines into the churning water with anticipation. I remember grandpa forming wood pieces into furniture in the garage. I remember the feel of the round, flat stepping stones under my bare feet when we’d arrive from Michigan after dark and walk the path to the house; I have a picture in my mind of grandpa standing in the screened doorway next to the the yellow porch light, waiting to greet us all. The chair where grandpa used to sit early each morning to read his Bible and pray for his family still sits in the corner of the dining room. There’s nothing about that farm that doesn’t represent him, and that feels sweeter to me now than it did for the first few years after he died. It’s not so deeply painful, just deep. He was real, and he invested his life into that place. When I look over the landscape, I think about the lives, the generations past, and the simple, steady work ethic that went into making life happen on that land, among those very old trees and fields.

A couple summers ago, Nate, Selah and I were able to go spend a week with my grandma on the farm. We spent one evening at the state park that used to be the Siloam Springs community where my grandparents grew up and where all the family reunions of their relatives still take place. I spent another evening listening to stories my grandma told about her parents and their lives, people I’ve always heard her talk about with love, admiration, and respect. I listened to her describe personality traits that made me realize that some of mine are just echoes of those who have lived before me. There’s an indescribable sturdiness and solidness and sense of belonging that comes from being in a place, a specific part of the world, that has held six generations of my family. I’m bound. It’s where I’ve come from. These generations have given me inherent traits I can’t change. There’s something freeing in that. Freeing, because I’m proud of my family and thankful for where I’ve come from.

When I look around our new urban neighborhood, I like to imagine what the landscape must have been when Clark University, the Methodist school that was begun to provide education to freed slaves, began its South Atlanta history in 1871. Just six short years after the end of the Civil War, South Atlanta began to unfold around Clark University and name its streets after the professors of the school. I envision a culture and community that remembers what used to be and is proud to claim it as their heritage – a people who rose above oppression, and a place where their history has been respected, cherished, and valued. I believe we are located in the middle of a treasure. We are surrounded by the stories of elders who have been here for many years and who remember the stories of those who preceded them.

But somehow, over the last few generations, the landscape has changed. When I look around our neighborhood, my eyes see the evidence of deep spiritual, emotional, relational and material poverty. Even as caring and committed neighbors struggle to restore the community, large, new homes, recently built for anticipated profit, have been turned instead into low-income rental properties, or are boarded up, having been stripped clean of AC units, gutters, appliances, carpeting, and piping. I see houses with the windows broken by thrown rocks. Trash and debris fill the yards in front of houses that are falling apart, some of them abandoned and left to become crack houses. When my family and I drive through our neighborhood, we see young women standing on street corners waiting to sell their bodies for the price of one hit of cocaine. Much of the treasure that was once South Atlanta has been lost.

Yet the history and heritage remain, and they are a foundation to be built upon. The beautiful stories are still being retold by men and women who have spent lifetimes in this community. FCS Urban Ministries, who we have joined, has roots that go down 30 years into this urban soil, roots that provide us an amazing opportunity to help renew this once strong neighborhood in anticipation of a hopeful future. We are part of a generation committed to restoring wholeness and health to this community so that young girls no longer have to make a desperate living on the street. We are privileged to be part of reclaiming a heritage that will enable the people of this community to re-establish roots that future generations will be proud to claim.