Looking for the Elevator

      This past Saturday our elders informed the congregation that Brainerd Church of Christ will shortly be out of funds. The Saturday previous, they let my husband, Bruce, know that we will not be paid after December. Utility bills and upkeep on the building, plus the demise, relocation or defection of our members has done us in.
     This congregation has been in existence for over eighty-five years. Martha Eichelberger and Fran McPherson, nearly-ninety-year-old ladies who work with the inner-city bus ministry, are first generation descendents of founding members. The current building was built in pieces beginning in 1947(?) with the current auditorium added in 1963.
     There is much irony in our situation.
     First of all, due to recent hail damage, we are getting a new $100,000 roof, paid for by insurance. (Our main roof is three stories above ground and three stories high with, I would guess, a 70 degree pitch. I think the roofers are Nepalise Sherpas.)
     Secondly, our Hispanic congregation continues to grow. Although strong in number and faith, there is no way they could support our white elephant any more than we can.
Thirdly, this church has established a number of congregations, e.g. East Brainerd Church of Christ, which are thriving.
      And fourthly, we are a very generous congregation that has seen to the financial needs of members and nonmembers alike. We have been supporters of domestic and foreign missions and currently provide worship space for one of the largest Hispanic congregations in the area.
      But, over the years, our current elders (all loving, caring, giving men) have failed to make other, necessary decisions or to communicate with or listen to the members of the congregation. They have tried, but their efforts have been sporadic and ineffectual. They tried for several years to invite predominantly black congregations who were considering building to join us, instead. The problem being that, by the elders’ choice, our worship services are about as active as a thirty-year-old collie. (This particular collie is friendly, loving and full of faith, just sedentary.)
      As secretary, I was privy to the issues that were never brought before the congregation or addressed by the elders. I finally had to resign to keep from driving my poor husband nuts. (You may not know that, as Churches of Christ interpret scripture, the preacher is not, unless appointed to be so, an elder or pastor. In many cases decisions and leadership are ipso facto left to the preacher, but Bruce has always deferred to the elders.)
      I have made pleas for decisions to be made, especially about our worship. Other people have tried over the years only to be told that “someone may object.” We have never had a praise team or a solo singer. We do not vary our communion service and rarely rearrange our order of worship. Drama in worship is very rare, always disguised as something else, and only performed by men. My last effort to jazz things up was a heart-felt, scripture-laden supplication ( I will post this tomorrow.) for the elders to incorporate women in any worship capacity. That, I believe, would have attracted a number of Christian families whose female members have felt excluded and marginalized. It would at least have put Brainerd Church of Christ on the radar.
      Meanwhile, I have been in touch with a solar panel company that tells me that a third party donor with $200,000 could put an array on our roof that would cover our utility bills, pay for itself in a few years, and generate income and tax incentives for the donor. This would need to be initiated by the end of October to get in on current tax law. Know anybody? And, if we could get someone to replace our now missing steeple with a look-alike cell tower, it would bring the church about $5000/ month. Again, know anybody?
Please pray for Bruce and me as we make this abrupt transition sans golden parachute. What color is God’s parachute? I would prefer an elevator.

Keoshia

Thirteen-year-old Keosshia Ford did not want to become the symbol of gang violence in Chattanooga. Keoshia wanted to be the athletic, active, beautiful child she was until two bullets hurtled into her body leaving her helpless, wordless and, some would say, hopeless.

According to the Xfinity Security web site, my chance of being a victim of violent crime in Chattanooga is 1/107. Of course, that depends on where in our fair city I live. Low cost housing in Chattanooga is dangerous housing. Low rent neighborhoods in Chattanooga are high crime neighborhoods.

Currently my husband and I live in a relatively safe area with peaceful neighbors. This has not always been the case. We have lived in seven different cities in six different states and have had to live in homes well below the median value, but I have been unsafe in only two of those cities, Memphis, and Chattanooga.
In both of those cities you must have a better than average income, or be very lucky, to live in a safe neighborhood. A large part of the problem is that Memphis and Chattanooga still suffer from “white flight,” urban sprawl, and the racial and economic problems that result. Shame on us. The unfounded fear that burned through these cities in the 60’s and 70’s has left a legacy of blight and destruction that feeds into the immoral national welfare system and creates a fatherless, valueless, bitter underclass with inferior schools and poor health.
How do we overcome?
On August 4th, in the residential neighborhood where Keoshia was shot, Chattanooga gathered and prayed. Our mayor prayed, our city and county representatives prayed, our ministers and our neighbors prayed. We prayed for peace in our community, unity among neighbors, hope for the future, help to understand and stop the violence, and healing for this innocent victim.
God help us.
Help us to create a spiritual unity that is impervious to the machinations of Satan and a resolve to rebuild neglected institutions and communities.
Amen.