The Multi-Something Church

This past Sunday, we visited a new church plant that has a vision of reaching downtown LA, an area which is notorious for the vast amount of urban poverty it houses on what is known as Skid Row. I've recently taken an interest in learning more about Skid Row after a variety of resources brought my attention to it- particularly, reports on NPR, my sociologist friend Naomi who studies urban poverty, Michael Moore's Sicko, and from reading The Soloist by LA Times columnist Steve Lopez. I was shocked that a city with as much glitz and glamor as LA could be so neglectful in its urban planning as to close mental hospitals and government run social programs, leaving thousands upon thousands of mentally unstable and sick homeless people on the streets. We were curious about what a "multi-ethnic, multi-socioeconomic" church in downtown LA would be like.

The experience left me with a lot of questions about the concept of a "multi-something" church. Especially as a result of going to Ethnos in SD, I love the idea of the multi-ethnic church, though there is of course the need for culture-specific churches also. Something about the thought of worshiping with other believers where you have little in common but your love for Jesus is really exciting to me. I really believe that God's heart is for all people groups, languages, and cultures, and if that's the case, I want to be part of a church that pursues this part of God's heart in a society where being in community with people different than yourself is completely unnatural. And, the call to be multi-socioeconomic is an important one too. Jesus' ministry obviously reached a wide variety of demographics- tax collectors, fishermen, lepers, prostitutes. I have far less experience on this one though.

I suppose the challenge of building diversity socioeconomically is even harder than building a church that is multi-ethnic. There are often some signs of ethnic diversity in neighborhoods of the same income level. But this doesn't change the fact that neighborhoods and physical communities are often built along socioeconomic lines. So how do we expect, say middle to upper class folks to be in spiritual community with people who might be classified as poor- people who don't have homes, cars, live off welfare or nothing at all, and spend their days looking for a decent place to sleep?

I like to think that I'm an open-minded person, that I hold few biases in my mind, and that I care about things social issues and urban poverty. But here's my confession: when I really think about it, this is the most unnatural concept for a middle-class American like myself. Being in spiritual community with others implies vulnerability and brokenness together, living life together, sharing in each other's struggles, loving each other, supporting each other. At least, that's what I want from being in a church community. I picture myself in this kind of setting, trying to understand the struggles of being a homeless person in downtown LA, being in community with them, being friends with them. I think it is safe to say that I have no idea what that's like. And I think I can also say that even though I say that I care, and I think I care, when I really think about it I'm not sure that I really care enough to let it invade my "safe zone." In fact, when I really think about it, I realize that I primarily go to church for selfish reasons- to meet God, yes, but also be fed and cared for and find people that I have things in common with. When I really think about it, I'm willing to care about the poor until it inconveniences me. I guess I want my Sunday mornings to be comfortable and not have to deal with the burden of poverty and homelessness every week. I want to meet people that I get along with, like to hang out in the same kinds of places I do, and have similar interests and goals. I came to this conclusion after a very unsettling feeling in my heart told me that somewhere in my supposedly liberal, compassionate, and open-minded thinking, there is hypocrisy.

Another thing left me with a funny feeling as we left the service. Comments from a few people we talked to casually- questions like, "Do you guys live in the lofts?" and "We need people like you at this church!" What were these comments based off of? There was very little small talk about what we did for a living or what we were doing in LA. Mostly I felt that many assumptions were made about our socioeconomic background based on our ethnicity and appearanace. Did Paul and I scream that we were a well-educated, middle-class Asian-American yuppie couple just by the way we look? Ok, fair enough. I made a half-joking comment to Paul on the way home- "We must look rich today or something." He pointed to a stain on his shirt and the fact that we were both wearing flip-flops and we laughed. But it was true. They made assumptions about us based on a combination of first impressions, whether it be race/ethnicity or the way we dressed, talked and carried ourselves. The assumptions were correct to some extent (although we don't live in the lofts downtown) yet seemed to go against the very spirit of the community. It made me feel that there was already a division in the church between those who obviously have and those who obviously do not. Because in reality, they don't need us at the church. We need the church. We need to be reminded that poverty is not something you can tuck away and not think about on Sunday mornings, or every other day for that matter. If you really do care, then you don't care if it makes you uncomfortable and inconvenienced. If I really believe that God's heart is for all peoples, I should want to see some of that shalom that Tim Keller always talks about on earth, right here, right now.

I wonder if it's really possible to create the kind of community that this church is envisioning. A place where yuppies who live in the new downtown lofts come to worship with people living on the streets. This church has great intentions and my purpose in writing this is not to knock their vision or the execution of that vision. I really believe their vision is a big part of God's heart. I shouldn't be looking for a church where I make friends easily and have a ton of things in common with the other people there. I should be looking for a place that helps me live out Jesus' teachings to their fullest. And while we're not certain that we're going to go to this particular church, I'm thankful that it forced me to think honestly about what goes on in my heart and the natural biases and fears that exist there.