A Sermon for Myself

I’m still trying to find a church where I fit. Heck, I’d love to just find a LIFE where I fit!

Someone asked me last night to help their suburban white church function in and relate to the increasingly inner-city neighborhood in which they find themselves. (They have committed to staying in the neighborhood, which I think is the right thing to do.) And I’ll be excited if this opportunity pans out. I think I’m qualified to help.

It occurred to me, though, that if I join their church and do nothing else then I will feel like an imposter. I live in a white suburban neighborhood. I work in a white suburban neighborhood, and going to a white suburban church—regardless of its location—will just mean that I slip farther and farther away from my connection to the inner city. And how can I help then?

It occurs to me that I have fled to my white suburban neighborhood because: (1) it’s close to work (I don’t do traffic), (2) safety is an issue, (3) it represents some sort of comfort zone when all of my others have been screwed up (seriously—my parents just moved out of my childhood home) and (4) because I had such a bad experience last year with the program (Mission Year) that took me to the inner city that I want to avoid anything remotely resembling that. I learned a lot and still believe in a lot of things that MY tried to work for (community, social justice, etc.) but I was really hurt by many things that took place there and am still trying to heal. Christians hurt me more in the past year than I thought possible. But I’m doing much better than I was in August, believe me. Man, I was a WRECK when I got home from MY!

I’m considering volunteering at some local inner-city ministry in order to keep my “ties to my roots”; I want to find somewhere to volunteer, but it’ll probably come down to what fits best into my schedule.

I don’t think I’m very “good” at inner-city ministry, and I don’t always enjoy it, but I do believe it’s important. I think my skill set and personality would be much more easily accepted by people like me. But who else will do this work if I won’t? It’s hard, but it’s necessary. (And sometimes I think I have the spiritual gift of doing things that no one else—including me—want to do. Is that possible? If so, God can take it back.) But the truth remains that if the people of God are going to love the “least of these,” the inner city is where it’s at.

I don’t think we get any extra points for loving the people who are exactly like us. I think that’s almost like cheating (and the sad thing is that it’s still hard to love those who are like us). So I can’t cocoon myself in my nice, pretty, white suburban life. It might be more comfortable, but it’s not right.