Loving the Unlovely

Chapter One:  The Hopeless

by Tricia K. Brown

“We live in a world of sin.  We see it lying on the street corners as we walk to work each morning.  We smell it wafting from the cracked doors of the abandoned buildings near the school playground.  We hear it through the open windows above our kitchen sink,. We feel it lurking in our hearts as we deadbolt our doors and head to bed at night.  It is all around us.  It touches us, even here, as we sit down to worship this Sunday morning.” 

Pastor Hos looked at his small congregation as he preached.  They looked inattentive, even bored.  Oh sure, a few of them nodded their heads.  But he could see it in their eyes.  They had heard it all before. 

“It’s here!”  he shouted as he pounded his fist onto the rickety pulpit. 

A few sleeping heads bobbed as the bang reverberated off the paper thin walls. 

“It’s not just out there.  It’s here, here in our hearts.  Don’t you understand,” he pleaded.  “It starts with me and with you.  We are all sinners, and God is calling us to repentance.  We cannot put money before our God.  We cannot put power before our God.  We cannot put pleasure before our God.  God alone is God, and when we put these other things before Him we are no better off than the drunks, the pimps, the prostitutes and the drug dealers outside that door.  We too are worshiping idols.  We too are failing to give our whole selves to God.” 

He looked around.  No one seemed moved. 

“God loves us,” he continued in a softer, more gentle voice. “God wants us to be His children, to experience His grace and mercy and gifts.  Won’t you give Him a chance, a chance to be your loving Father.  Come to Him today.” 

As his voice trailed off, the gray haired pianist began belting out “Amazing Grace” a little too loudly, a little too robustly.  The congregation jumped to their feet and sang.  When the chorus ended, they began streaming out the door. 

It was finished, another Sunday service in the inner city had come to an end. 

Oh sure, everyone smiled and thanked Bro. Hos for the message, told him how well he preached, stroked his ego, but he knew.  There had been no change.  In fact, there had been no change since he had come here—how long ago was that?  Was it four months?  Six months?  A whole year ago?  He had been so full of energy and enthusiasm then, ready to conquer the world for the Lord.  Then, he had been so sure this is where God wanted him to go. 

Now, he didn’t know.  There had been no change.

As the last of his elderly congregation filed out of the church, dragging small grandchildren behind them, he felt their hopelessness, their helplessness.  He looked at the convenience store across the street.  A drunken, homeless man lay across the sidewalk.  Two or three tattooed teenagers leaned against the storefront, blowing smoke in each other’s facing and swearing loudly.  One of the local drug dealers was nearby, carrying out a transaction through his car window. And on the nearest corner a young, scantily dressed woman draped her arms around her pimp, who was pointing, laughing and making obscene gestures at the pastor himself. 

 “Oh Lord,” he whispered to himself.  “Will I ever make a difference here?  Will there ever be a way to get your message across to this people?  Will we ever be able to move beyond these walls to impact the community around us?”