Building (the) Blocks: Church in the 'hood

Recently, I listened to a friend express intense dissatisfaction with the Church universal. The crux of the displeasure did not concern sermon length, matters of theology, worship style, or even God God’s Self. The dissatisfaction was about stewardship: my friend disagrees with how the Church allocates its money. “I want the Church to do more.” By way of example, my friend discussed a popular, multi-campus, primarily African-American megachurch nearby. With all its land and other resources, that church could serve the community in greater, more substantial ways. Or, perhaps in any way. I am uncertain whether that church has a vibrant outreach ministry, although I imagine that it does.  The critique made clear that this particular church’s witness, rather lack thereof, is emblematic for all churches, be they mega or mini. In theory, churches that collect thousands of dollars weekly could distribute them in the community to create systemic change. I believe that my friend has other concerns about the Church. Nevertheless, I have been thinking about the critique ever since. For the sake of a mental (vocational) exercise, I am suspending whether the critique has merit. After all, one’s perception is one’s reality. How does the Church prove its fiscal responsibility in general, and to those who do not attend? How does it demonstrate its care for the poor in their midst and beyond? This is true especially in communities of color, which experience disproportionately poverty and other systemic oppressions. 

In the critique I hear the voice of non-believers who may not look to the Church for God or God’s Love but expect the Church to demonstrate that love toward others. I hear an expectation that the Church would be the Church; a live, active, reconciling agent in the world. The Church does not do this to prove that God exists, but rather to prove that the Church’s faith exists. At least for my friend, the way that the Church stewards its resources is a litmus test for the Church’s faith. Does the Church believe what it says about to Whom it belongs and Who it serves?  

These queries summoned the prophet Nehemiah to the forefront of my mind. While I have been thinking intermittently about his ministry over the last year as instruction and encouragement for my own, the aforementioned conversation begged a revisit.  When Nehemiah, the son of Hacaliah and the servant of God, hear about his country people who escaped captivity, Jerusalem’s broken walls, and its gates that fire destroyed, Scripture records that the prophet “…sat down and wept, and mourned for days, fasting and praying before the God of heaven” (1:4). The calamity drove Nehemiah to God for comfort and assistance. Later, King Artaxerxes is so moved by Nehemiah’s sadness that he asks and grants what Nehemiah needs. Nehemiah leaves the palace to inspect (and rebuild) his beloved city. The community hears his plan and accepts his invitation to rebuild: “‘Let us start building!’ So they committed themselves to the common good.” (Nehemiah 2:18). And the building began.

This is an encouraging story for a prophet who receives a vision from God in order to attend to God’s People. In turn, that vision instills the courage to change what is into what it should be; to turn breached situations towards the path on which new life can emerge. Nehemiah’s story offers a model for the Church to use its resources to affect change. How can modern Church Folk employ its resources (including relationships) for “the common good” of our communities? With Nehemiah in mind, the Church can offer communities opportunities for access, sustenance, and obedience. 

Nehemiah’s relationships offer access. He learns about the problems and uses everything at his disposal to remedy them. His direct access to the king allowed the time to go to Judah, permission to travel along the route, the timber necessary to rebuild, and the passage to arrive unharmed. He is connected to those which these resources, and the larger community benefits. We can transform (and where necessary, rebuilt) our local communities when we become conduits to resources and relationships that exist outside of those communities. Some spaces still hold faith communities and their leadership in high esteem; the Church should leverage that access to benefit their communities. Unfortunately, some of these spaces do not value the people who they are supposed to serve. Those relegated to society’s margins such as children, women, elderly, LGBTQUI, formerly incarcerated, people of color and/or otherwise vulnerable persons are not always invited to conversations that impact them directly. Perhaps you have heard the saying, “If you are not at the table, you are on the menu.” The Church can ensure that these populations are not on the menu. Ideally, the Church would bring them to the table so that they may speak for themselves. Whether it be in local, state, and federal government, non-profit sector, private companies, small businesses, elementary to graduate schools, the Church can provide access to the entities who can (and will) invest in our communities. Some churches are steeped in this ethos, yet others remain cloistered inside their steeples. We magnify our witness when we use our resources to amplify our communities’ voices.  

Nehemiah’s resources provided sustenance. In chapter 5 we read the people’s “great outcry” about famine and economic inequities. Rather than sit by idly, Nehemiah held the nobles and officials accountable, demanding the restoration for what they stole (Nehemiah 5:11). In response they vow, “We will restore everything and demand nothing more from them. We will do as you say” (v12). The Church would do well to rise up consistently on behalf of those who have been relegated to the margins. Movements such as Fight for $15, #BlackLivesMatter, #MeToo, #ChurchToo should see a significant Church presence. Predatory lenders charge astronomical interest rates on small dollar loans that keep poor and financially vulnerable people in a debt trap. Gentrification prices out long-standing residents from their homes and neighborhoods. Schoolchildren face embarrassment and/or hunger when their parents do not have enough money to pay for their lunch. The elderly and other chronically ill people are forced to choose between their medication and their mortgage. People in our communities face these realties daily and many (like my friend) wonder, “Where is the Church?” Granted, many people speak out and act to eliminate systemic injustices. However, I can imagine the Church Universal, uniting in one voice to bring, “… charges against the nobles and officials” (Nehemiah 5:7), demanding that, “their fields, their vineyards, their olive orchards, and their houses, and the interest on money, grain, wine, and oil that you have been exacting from them…“ (v11) be restored. The Church could manifest its power and witness in every letter, every public action/civil disobedience, every meeting, and every monetary contribution to sustain God’s People.

Nehemiah’s relationships invite obedience.  Nehemiah submitted himself and his plan to the Lord. Beginning with his initial conversation with the king, Nehemiah keeps God at the center of the work. He invites others to participate in the work, and his conviction that, “The God of heaven is the one who will give us success,… (2:20). Nehemiah’s obedience to God provides a model for the community to follow. The nobles and officials did just as they promised, restoring what they took unjustly.  The community committed to a rebuilding plan and worked together diligently to achieve it. Each group attended to their specific assignment wall and completed the wall in 52 days (Nehemiah 6:15). Their relationships with one another and the project cemented them together through difficulties, allowing them to persevere until its end. Furthermore, their fidelity in rebuilding the wall, and to one another was also an act of obedience to God. Their obedience to and partnership with God secured their collective work’s success. The modern Church would do well to demonstrate consistently this kind of obedience. We submit our plans to popularity instead of the Lord. Rather than commit ourselves to God’s People, we commit to political expedience. Rather than obey our covenant vows, we obey the almighty dollar.  Rather than honoring relationships with God’s Creation, we cling to our (often separate) doctrines. How might the Church’s witness improve if we related to everyone as though we believed that they were made in God’s Image? Could the Church join together, working diligently with and within the community to rebuild what war, famine, and neglect has destroyed? Could those relegated to the margins be redrawn into the communal circle when we work diligently to implement the plan that God gave to us? Might those with whom we are in relationship come to obey God as a result of our obedience? 

Nehemiah bears witness to the Church’s ability to offer our communities opportunities for access, sustenance, and obedience. Yet we do not demonstrate that ability consistently. I am convicted deeply by my friend’s indictment against the Church. I have experienced the truth of his accusation even as I know and see that individual churches, members, and leaders offer a resounding counternarrative. I wonder often why so many churches and/or its leaders remain silent about systemic injustices that bind God’s People. Moreover, I lament that some of our churches engage actively, or are complicit in these injustices. Yet I will lift my eyes to the hills from whence cometh my help (Psalm 121:1) lest I become mired in despair. My soul remains anchored in the hope that God makes all things new.  I need only to perceive it. May the Church honor its witness by weeping, fasting, praying, and committing to the common good.