And It Was Beautiful

Today I worshiped at The Church 4 All People in inner-city Columbus, Ohio. It was a requirement for a January-term class I'm taking called "Being With The Poor." I ate breakfast with people who smelled differently than me. I shared conversation with people that have nothing at all in common with me. And I saw a unique faith today that was profound and moving.

After the service, small groups were held. One for the women, one for the men, and one for youth. I attended the men's group and was surprised to see an overflowing crowd. It was a simple format: 1) Go around the circle and tell how your week's been; and 2) Talk about something you took away from the worship service. While I've been in experiences similar to this before, I have to say it was still astonishing to see how segregated most Christians are on Sunday mornings. It wasn't this way at The Church 4 All People, but that only magnified how segregated most churches are.

This men's group was diverse. Middle-class. Deep poverty. Obese. Pallid. Frail. White. Black. Educated. Uneducated. It was beautiful.

The thing is, usually in a Sunday-school class or a small group, there are always caucasian, middle-class suburbanites like me. And that wasn't what I was seeing today. For some reason, Americans love to separate ourselves from everything that makes us uncomfortable. We don't make eye contact with people that are like us, much less someone who appears homeless. We don't drive through 'certain parts of town.' We isolate and insulate ourselves, and the results are visible and harsh: differing levels of economic class that often dictate a person's fate.

But today was different at The Church 4 All People. There was diversity. We shared our humanness and a common faith. There was empathy and love. Food and hugs. The Gospel. Friendship.

And it was beautiful.