anyone in the front row onwards. There seemed to be no connection between the people in the pews and the words leaving my lips. It was a completely different experience than I had ever encountered. The negative vibe was so strong that I had to struggle through the message.
When I finished my concluding illustration, I was glad that the whole thing was over. All I could think of was getting out of this place as soon as possible. After the final benediction, the pastor came to the pulpit and instructed me to go to the back of the church where I would have the opportunity to greet everyone as they left the service. This was something I did not want to do. The last thing I needed at that time was to shake hands with every cold and lifeless soul who attended this church. Usually, I enjoy meeting new people, but this time all I wanted was to get out of there as quickly as I could. However, there was no escape, no place to run. It was after I had greeted the first few people that I suddenly realized what the problem was and why the feeling in that building was so dark. I was immediately surrounded by angry people who complained incessantly about their pastor. What made it worse was they were using pieces of my sermon to vilify and justify their complaints!
Like unethical journalists, they were twisting my words out of context to back up their obvious anti-pastor/church-leadership agenda. I was embarrassed, especially since these complainers were using me as their instrument of destruction right in front of the pastor, who was standing with me as we greeted people!
These people had no love. Love had left that place long ago and when love leaves, God goes with it because He is love. Gossip, manipulation, slandering, backbiting and lack of humility are all annoying gongs that make a church an unpleasant place. Whenever these unloving qualities are present, they should act like a fire alarm, indicating to us that there is a serious crisis at hand.
When love leaves, God’s active presence goes with it. When this happens, marriages, families, businesses and even churches are in big trouble. The problem is that too many people have just gotten used to it. It has become an accepted part of life. The strangeness of all these dysfunctional qualities has become normal. Instead of indicating that danger is present, we just ignore the alarm. How contrary this is to the plan of Jesus and to the words of Paul.
Without love, we Christians and our well-financed ministries and well-oiled churches are nothing. What we need to do is invest more energy in love over and above anything else we do. The good news is that love does not cost much money. You can love without blowing the budget.
We need to function with God’s power by prioritizing love above all else. To do this, we must come to know how to speak truth with love. When we do, people will “see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:16, NIV). Now that is a powerful truth.
This is the heartbeat and the blood that flows throughout UrbanPromise—love. We simply love our kids, youth and their mothers, no matter what has happened to them in the past, no matter what they have done or what they are currently doing. We simply love them and because of this, the transcendent God is present, transforming lives as He works through His chosen medium, which is the active presence of love. I am always amazed at how much love we receive in return, not only from the kids and youth with whom we work, but also from their mothers. This love is such a dominant force in our communities that many people who come and visit our programs often tell me that they feel God’s presence in our community. This is a common thread felt by newcomers who meet our people for the first time. Many tell me that they are inspired by the children, youth and mothers they meet. It is as if both UrbanPromise staff and those we have come to serve reinforce and energize one another’s love for each other.
The communities we serve have taken root in our hearts. My staff eat, breathe and sleep every minute for the people we serve. Though we come from varied backgrounds (Canadian, American, Australian, Asian, Caribbean, Irish, etc.), we all become part of the community in which we are active. This means that we have been absorbed into the Jamaican culture because most neighbourhoods we serve are filled with Jamaican Canadians. Just walk through our communities during the hot summer months and you’ll experience the Jamaican “irie.” You’ll hear the reggae beat playing loudly. You’ll see the people gathered together, smiling, high-fiving each other, talking and laughing loudly. There might even be a game of dominoes happening on the front lawn of a townhouse while children skip rope on the street corner. Though our staff might be from a different cultural background, we have all become honourary Jamaicans. Many of us have even come to understand the “patois” way of speaking and enjoy the roti dinners we are served when we are invited, as guests, into the homes of our wonderful families. Often our female staff wear the cornrow hairstyle so fashionable in our communities. This is a real badge of honour—a statement declaring to everyone that a mother in the ’hood spent hours working on their hair. When someone takes the time to do that, you are accepted as part of the community. You are now officially in.
Love is visible, and it is also felt. It is seen and experienced through the hospitality present in our communities that defies all stereotypical urban projects, and we receive it with open arms, simply because we have open hearts. We really love those we serve, and this deep affection for our people is seen when you visit one of our staff apartments. As you enter their modest living conditions, you will notice pictures, tons of pictures, of children, youth and mothers, all from these communities. On their bedroom walls, you’ll see Bible verses and prayers painted around and about more pictures of these people they have come to love as their own children, brothers, sisters and mothers. Each face in each picture has a name, a story, fears and dreams. They have become part of our family and we have been accepted into their family.
During a day off, it is common to witness one of our staff hanging out with their kids or going to a movie with a mother of a child who attends our program. When my staff talk about the children in their program, they never call them kids. No. They are always referred to as “my kids.” That little word makes all the difference in the world. It speaks of connection, care, love and responsibility. It is clear that the children of UrbanPromise are not just numbers or little projects. They truly are our kids. Every day, our staff pray for our kids by name: Shaquan, Shaquille, Aiesha, Sharene, Shevelle, Patrick, and the list goes on. And every day, our kids also pray for us.
“And the greatest of these is love....” (1 Corinthians 13:13)
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“Our lives are not problems to be solved but journeys to be taken with Jesus as our friend and finest guide.”
– Henri Nouwen
4. The Secret Power Of Not Knowing What To Do
One of the many blessings I received while grieving the loss of Patrick was being able to build a stronger friendship with John Elliot, director of the Warden Woods Community Centre, at the time of the tragedy. Before Patrick’s murder, John and I were just friends on a casual business basis. After, we became closer friends. Hardships tend to bond sufferers together.
John Elliot was born in Northern Ireland and had worked at the centre for over 15 years. He is a humble man, with a strong Irish accent and an impeccable work ethic, whose love for his staff and the community was obvious. When I think of John, I see a faithful man who made the Warden Woods Community Centre effective in fulfilling its mandate. He always deflected any praise he received and made sure that his staff got proper recognition and encouragement. He empowered them and they in turn respected his guidance.
John arrived at the centre shortly before I did early in the morning after Patrick’s murder. When John heard I was in the building, he had his receptionist call me into his office for a quick meeting. I slowly cut through the horde of media, community residents and various hangers-on who crowded around the centre and walked down the stairs towards John’s sparse office. When I entered, I found him slumped in his chair, staring out his window, looking rather depressed. Who could blame him? I knew exactly how he felt. John
