I live here too.

Back in November, a young man came to my door soliciting sales for a home improvement company.   I normally get irritated by door-to-door solicitors, particularly since I seem to get one from this company "doing work in my neighborhood" on a regular basis.  But he was friendly, so I stood on the porch to chat for a few minutes.

He was trying to make enough money doing this job to get his son everything he asked for for Christmas.  He was so proud of his son for doing well in school, and thought he deserved the gifts. He also wanted his son to see his dad working hard like this so he might make different choices and do better for himself.  He talked about how no matter what, God is good, and it was all going to work out fine.

I told him that honestly, as much as we might need it, home repairs just weren't in our budget.  I told him that if I won the lottery I would totally give him a call to set up an appointment.

"I live here too," he said with a nod.

He didn't mean he lives in my neighborhood, or even in my part of town.  What he was saying, in direct and simple eloquence was "I get it. Me too."  In that one simple phrase, there was just a beautiful us-ness.

I live here too.

He gave me a great way of re-framing a ministry problem I have been grappling with for awhile now.

For the past couple of years I have been learning about asset based community development and Christian community development.     I have read books such as Toxic Charity and When Helping Hurts 
(If you want to learn more, I highly recommend checking out Wendy McCaig's blog and Aaron Lee's series on Toxic Charity.)

These ideas excite me.  They make so much sense!

And yet....they don't exactly fit our ministry model and the population with whom we work.

You know that pair of  jeans in your closet that you just can't get rid of?  They look good on the hanger, they're soft, they would look great with your favorite sweater.  Except when you put them on, they aren't quite right. They kind of fit, and they kind of don't.  A belt helps, but something about them bugs you every time you put them on.

That's the way I feel about abcd and our ministry.  I've tried to make it fit. I want it to fit.  It doesn't quite.

Community development is centered around people who are geographically close.  Community (at least in one sense here) is a physical concept.

Our food pantry and related ministries serve a suburban population.  Many people who come to us are the only person on their block or in their neighborhood in financial need.  Some live in low income pockets clumped together, while others live in affluent areas where they are still living in the same house they had since before the bottom fell out.  Some people we see are seniors living in assisted living homes.  We've had a few people living in cars, hotels, on friends couches.   They are not bound by geography the way traditional community development sees it.

A movement within community development is "moving into the neighborhood."  Instead of driving from your home in place "x" to "y" every day to work with a community from afar, you move in and become a neighbor.  You develop the "us" by becoming geographically close so you can understand each other, and this community, better.

But how do I move into a neighborhood when there isn't one?  Where would I move to be closer to the people I work with?  Some of them already live in my neighborhood, but many others don't.

I live here too.

Such a simple concept.   A place to start.

The neighborhood we inhabit with those we work with is more than geography.
 
For those of us in suburban ministry, we need to be willing to metaphorically move into the neighborhood.  We might need to sacrifice our material comfort (which frankly should be easy for many of us since pantry leaders tend to work for free).  Our choices might need to look more like the choices our neighbors in need make than the ones our more affluent neighbors make.  It might affect our home, or clothes, our car, our vacations.  We might need to reexamine our material priorities.
We need to not only get to know those we work with personally, but invite them to labor alongside of us. We need to break bread together.  We need to share information and resources with each other.  We need to develop a different type of community while also nurturing individual development.


If you work in suburban ministry, I would love to hear from you about how this looks in your neighborhood.  Leave a comment and lets start a conversation.