Coach Meyer, Cass Park

If you have not seen this clip, you need to watch it. Coach Don Meyer (formerly from Lipscomb) was honored at the prestigious ESPY AWARDS Sunday night. This is vintage Coach Meyer.

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The Detroit News did a little story on the work we've been doing in Cass Park for the last four years.

Random

U2, the greatest band on Planet Earth (to say it mildly) is coming to America in September. I've got my tickets to one of the shows in Toronto. This is my thirtieth birthday present from KG (who celebrated 26 yesterday--happy birthday . . . you truly are the source of joy in my life). The person who got me hooked on U2, Greg Stevenson, wrote a great couple of blogs about their music. Check them out here.

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If you have not seen The Soloist, I highly recommend it. Cut from the same cloth as Same Kind of Different as Me, The Soloist gets beyond stereo-type and cliche and into the complexity of friendship, mental illness (as in, who really has it), poverty, and homelessness. Warning: this film is not for the faint of heart. There are major portions of the film which chronicle life on Skid Row in downtown L.A. I was both moved and paralyzed by the raw feel to the film. It also brought me back to my experiences with Francis, Professor Jack, et al in Cass Park a few years back.

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If you are interested in reading a blog written by a sold-out follower of Jesus who is willing to take risks in the city, read Doug's blog. Doug and I will be teammates this fall when we join the larger mission of the Otter Creek Church in Nashville.

More Photos from Cass Park

Thanks to Courtney for sharing more of her photos.

Looking for God

An American flag sits atop the Masonic Temple building located in the heart of Cass Corridor. It's ripped down the middle. The shredded cloth flops violently in the winter swirl. From the top of this building one can see the hundreds of homeless and almost-homeless men and women who live in one of the roughest sections of downtown Detroit.

Across the Masonic Temple is Cass Tech High School. My grandfather graduated from Cass Tech. After Korea, he came back to Detroit, got his G.E.D. and went on to live a rather adventurous (in the good and not-so-good sense of the word) life. Cass Tech and the Masonic Temple form a parenthesis around Cass Park. A rather ironic inclusio. On one side, life, music, art, expression, and joy . . . on the other . . . learning, grit, ingenuity, and creativity.

In between, a rather unassuming park. Those who live here call it Crack Park, Jurassic Park, and other unmentionables.

Next to the park is a half-way house, rehab center (known as The Mariners Inn), an empty parking lot where a Salvation Army Shelter used to stand, a shelter for vets of Vietnam, a Salvation Army High-Rise (now empty) which used to be one of the largest homeless shelters in the United States.

In a word . . . this piece of land can be depressing. Yesterday as I walked around Cass Corridor by myself praying for the city, praying for our church leaders, praying for the first-time volunteers . . . I asked myself a question: Why do I keep coming back to this place? Every four months or so I start asking myself this question. The answer varies: because I'm the extension of Jesus in the world, because God requires that I use my blessings to bless others, because it feels good to serve, because . . . Yesterday a new answer emerged.

I keep coming because Cass Park, as paradoxical a place as it is, reminds me of my own spiritual poverty; my own need to experience God in the midst of silence. So, I keep coming because I'm looking for God. I look for him everywhere else (relationship, music, art, film, family, marriage, fatherhood) . . . if I find God here, I know it won't be the God I'm used to preaching and teaching. Re-thinking God used to scare me. Now, it's what sustains my faith.

Cass Park

Unknown woman in Cass Park

Josh and Vivian (we've been friends for four years now)

My friend Courtney Strahan took these photos in Cass Park yesterday. I'll write more about our time there in the coming days.

Tables

Recently I (with the help of generous church supporters) purchased three eight-foot tables. The tables cost $76 a piece. Three tables plus tax . . . $237. The tables aren't much to look at. They are white with gray legs. The tables are plastic. Much lighter than the old wooden tables which still collect cob webs and spilled apple pie in many churches and synagogues all over this country. As we loaded up for Cass Park, I scribbled, in elementary-esque handwriting (due to awkward grooves clearly not designed for writing) Cass Park. 

Today, we put those tables to use in Cass Park. 

On these tables rested chicken, potato salad, cake, snacks, lemonade, water, pop, toothbrushes, deodorant, plates, forks, napkins, spoons and knives. Plastic utensils of course. 

Without these tables, the afternoon is awkward and artificial. Without the food, social power games of old rear their ugly head. 

With the tables (and the excellent food) . . . conversations break out, prayers rise up from the sidewalks, stories are told and re-told (and told again), friendships are renewed. Laughter then replaces a scowl, and despair gives away to hope. The trees are a bit greener. The sun is slightly brighter. The air, a little more pleasant. 

Christianity is a strange religion indeed. Brilliant but strange. 

God takes the ordinary things of life and turns everything upside down. Water. Blood. Food. Wine. Feet. Fishing. Perfume. Bread. And . . . of course tables.  

"Want to change the world?" I can hear Jesus ask his disciples. "Pay attention to your tables."

I Only Play Gospel

Friday night was our last night to stay in Cass Park, a place I’ve written about on several different occasions. Friday night is the night we came back from hosting an “emerging artists” night at Hope Community Church on the east side of Detroit.

Before we left, we invited some of our friends who live in Cass Park to come with us to the concert. Two (Chris and Elena) said, “Sure. Count us in.” It was truly a magical night. We experienced worship, slam poetry, guitar solos—it was as powerful a night as I’ve been a part of in a long time.

After the festivities, I did not have the heart to drop our friends from Cass Park back off at their pre-selected shelter. I just couldn’t, in that gut-driven moment, believe that Jesus would drop off his friends back at the shelter after a night of experiencing God as the original artist.

“Eleya. Chris. Y’all want to hang out with us. Play some more music.”
“You know it Bishop Josh,” (that’s what Chris calls me).

We stayed up until 3a.m. playing hymns, worship on the piano and drums. At one point, I looked at Chris and said, “Hey man . . . let’s do some Ray Charles. ‘Georgia . . .Georgia . . The whole day through.’”

“Nah,” Chris replied. “I only play Gospel.”

Both friends stayed the night with us. By the time I woke up Saturday morning, Chris was gone. All his stuff packed as if he'd been sent by God to bless us and leave before the morning sun appeared on the horizon.

Upside Down Leadership

If you want to be a viable Christian leader in the emerging postmodern world you have no other option than to practice what you preach. The days of Star Search Leadership (when people followed because the leader was slick or dynamic) are dead. And that's a good thing.

Period.

Some churches are led by ministers/leaders who do not consistently put themselves in risky “scenarios”—their intellectual faith might be strong, but the embodiment of said faith is non-existent. And, at last, Christians and non-Christians alike are calling their bluff.

I’m preparing to lead an urban plunge formation retreat this coming week to downtown Detroit. For an entire week, we’ll be living in Cass Park at the Hope Baptist Center with a group of Christians from Michigan State University and Grand Valley State University.

Myself and several college students/young adults from Rochester College and Rochester Church of Christ will spend our time: working with a diverse church (Hope Community Church), volunteering in shelters, attending worship gatherings with diverse groups of believers, hearing lectures/presentations on the history and “world” of Detroit, social class simulations, museums, one underground railroad visit, repairing homes, Love Feast in Cass Park (our normal tradition), tutoring for students, reading, journaling, hosting a music conference, sleeping in shelters, living among the homeless in Hart Plaza and hosting a basketball tourney with a local church (you know who’s excited about that).

These are some of the things we’ll be engaged in throughout our stay.

This is an urban spiritual formation retreat. The focus is on the spiritual development of those who’ve given their week to hear the rhythms of Jesus’ teaching and how they intersect with the rhythms of life in a complicated city like Detroit. This is not about “fixing” Detroit. It’s about understanding what God might in fact already be doing.

This is the third urban spiritual formation trip I’ve led. The last two were hosted in the Bronx. Now, we take seriously the call of God to be immersed in our own backyard.

Pray for us.

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Last night, 30 of us from my church gathered in a home to say “good-bye” to one of our beloved sisters in Christ. This new follower is going to join a holistic community in Arizona to focus on her emotion, spiritual and psychological self.

The blessing time was amazing. Skaters. Preachers. College Students. Auto Executives. Uncles. Family. Young Adults.

All under the liberating name of Jesus blessing our fellow sister to find out what it is in this life that “makes her come alive.” For the world needs people who’ve come alive.

Winzell

Last night, just before going to bed, Kara and I watched the local news. That's part of our normal routine. Channel 4 (NBC). 11 p.m. Pretty much every night.

Unless Anderson Cooper has something interesting going on.

One of the leading stories focused attention on the plight of homeless men and women throughout Detroit on this unusually cold Saturday night (it got down to 0 degrees; with the wind chill, negative twenty degrees).

The reporter, rather excited for such a gloomy piece, interviewed a man. His name is Winzell Jarrell. The reporter (nor the TV screen) did not indicate this. But I knew who it was. I've known Winzell for almost a year now. I can't believe he's still alive. Honestly.

Winzell, and hundreds of other homeless citizens , defy the odds. I don't know how they do it. I really don't. I'd jump off a bridge.

Needless to say, I was messed up after seeing my friend on television. I woke up six or seven times last night from a deep sleep. Partly because it was just one of those nights. Partly because Winzell doesn't have a home.

Sunday in Motown

Yesterday was a great day in the kingdom.

In a class I’m teaching at our local church, we discussed the life and contributions of Desmond Tutu and his work with the TRC in South Africa following the demise of apartheid.

Near the end, we told stories of needing forgiveness and stories about experiences in which we were convicted to do the forgiving. It was a holy and special moment.

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Our time in Cass Park was fruitful yesterday. Despite the fact that Detroit is, once again, considered the most dangerous city in the United States, we were hosted with love and respect by the women and men who make their home in and around Cass Park. One friend, Anne Harvey, is so excited to be in her own house after living in Cass Park for three years that she came yesterday to “bear witness” and catch up with her friends.

I’ll write more about Anne in the future. Suffice to say, she’s taught me more about hospitality than any exegetical study from the New Testament.

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Last night, our small group/life group met in the home of Dr. Craig and Stephanie Kline. Craig is a doctor who lives and works in Detroit. Stephanie is a former missionary to Honduras now studying social work at Wayne State University in Detroit. They have brought such a special dimension to our group—their passion for the city is contagious. Our time of table, worship, discussion and prayer, was exactly what I needed.

It might sound heretical…but our life group often feels more like church than Sunday mornings. What does that say….hmmm…?

Random Thoughts

Some random thoughts on a Tuesday morning...

• When the weather turns cold in the motor-city, the first thing I think about are my friends living on the streets and in the shelters of Detroit and Cass Park. I'm grateful for a roof, warm bed, and fridge full of food.
  

• Patriots Head Coach, Bill Belichick, gets the "the pot calling the kettle black" award for the week. Unreal. This guy has some nerve.
  

• If you died tomorrow, would you want to be cremated or buried? Do you think there's anything wrong with cremation? FYI: Did you know that in the State of Michigan, it's estimated that nearly 40 percent of all people are now requesting cremation? That's up significantly--fifteen years ago, the percentage of cremation requesters was somewhere around twelve or fifteen percent.