A Good Sunday

So I guess I originally billed this blog as a commentary on building a faith community (okay, a church, I guess) in the recovering, urban, Pittsburgh neighborhood of Lawrenceville. I haven’t really had much to share on it. Most of the time we feel like missionaries who have dropped into a foreign land to start church building by scratch. This is a very unchurched area that hasn’t really missed church a bit.

Bit by bit, month by month, we have just pounded out the values of community. We now have a solid group of around six, plus my wife and me. These folks are regulars. They see Catalyst, as we call it, as their church. If we stopped, most of them probably wouldn’t go anywhere else. This winter, we connected with Jennifer, a woman who provides family services for the poorer folks of our corner of Pittsburgh. Jenn works for a large medical provider, but they don’t provide her with much help, other than an office and salary. She struggles to meet all the needs… food on family tables, money for the gas bill, school supplies, or kid’s Christmas presents for parents with nothing. She gets some donations, but by December 15th, she’s usually tapped out. This Christmas, our little community was able to put over $400 together for gift cards to grocery stores, Target, and Toys R Us. Not a lot. Our people are far from wealthy. But for Jennifer, it was huge. When I called her, she was in a home, de-licing it. Jenn’s work is very hands on. We will continue to help her when we can.

This last Sunday was special. It was the second visit for our 9th “member.” I’ll call her Lisa.  She works at Starbucks with one of our other folks. She was raised in community churches but hasn’t been to any church in over two years. She’s in her early twenties, and her family is self-destructing beneath her with bad choices and toxic behavior. She feel alone and helpless. She has seen the church as “programmed religion.” I think she has wondered if God is even there at all. Or if it is all just a show people put on. Probably still wonders that, to some extent. This Sunday, her second time with us, she found someone else with similar struggles. She broke down as she shared how isolated and betrayed she feels. We prayed. We laughed. We cried. Then we ate together. I think we had church. We definately had community. I think Lisa is going to come back.

We’re at nine. But sometimes, nine can feel huge.