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Late one night, after a long church meeting, I walked out the back door of the Outreach Center with a trio of the guys who had been meeting in our fellowship hall. It wasn't the first time I'd seen two of them, so we chatted a bit as we made sure the door was locked. But that night, one of them was feeling serious and reflective. It's not uncommon for the support groups who use the Outreach Center to thank us for allowing them space. But that night, they needed me to hear their gratitude more deeply. "This church is our hope," he told me. "Our whole community knows it: if you need community, if you need people who are going to care for you and keep you from making bad decisions, come to the Congo. We all call it that - there are a lot of congregational churches around, but when we talk about the Congo, we mean this one. This is where we're safe, and where we can get help. People drive from all over to meet here, in this church. And they turn their lives around. We find acceptance, and compassion, and hope."
He took a deep breath, and the other guys nodded at everything he had said. "I just need you all to know: this church saves lives. Literally, and more often than you know. You save lives."
Over the last several weeks, I have met with community service providers around the city. These are the folks whose full time job it is to help our neighbors find housing, safety, food, and recovery. They invite me, as a representative of this church, into their meetings because they consider this church part of the network that they represent. I'm usually the only pastor in the room, virtual or physical, because the work that our church does in this community is unlike that of any other faith community. Time and again I hear it: our work makes a difference. Our ministry has an impact. Our presence is needed, and honored.
I get to hear it, and I want you to hear it with me: Our church saves lives.
Thanks be to God.
Pastor Eliza Tweedy
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