Mandate eNewsletter, 2009 - Issue No. 2

Don’t Just Study, Do Something!
by Gaye Clark

Doing vs. Knowing

Confession: I hate school. I prefer a hands-on approach. So when our deacons encouraged me to enroll in a Chalmers Center course on poverty, the idea underwhelmed me. The church understood ministry as more education, an in-depth Bible study, or (God forbid) a women’s retreat. Burnt out on seminars and weekend life-changing conferences, I only wanted to know one thing: When do I get to go and do stuff?

The last time I asked a question that stupid, I was in nursing school. The instructor put a defibrillator in my hand, pointed to a dying patient and said, “How ’bout now?” Panic replaced my confidence in about 60 seconds.

My previous experience should have cautioned me against asking the question a second time. I guess you could say I’m a slow learner. Fortunately, our chairman of deacons knew how to coax me into the classroom. “The Chalmers Center designed this course specifically for church ministry. After we finish, we’ll go, you know, do stuff." With a pen in his hand, he grinned and waved the signup sheet at me. “We need you, Gaye. Honest.”

Before I enrolled in this course, every so often I would drive through the downtown housing projects. I dreamed of knowing the names of the children who played just outside their doors. When I drove past the strip joints, I asked the Lord to call out the women who worked there into His light. Would it take someone going inside to bring them out? Was I willing? Maybe someone at this Chalmers Center knew a way to get started.

I soon began reading a couple hundred pages of homework each week and typed detailed responses to questions that seemed beyond me. Would all this theory on poverty make a real difference for me, our church, to say nothing of the poor in our community?

The first Chalmers Center course challenged many of my preconceived notions of the poor, even though I considered myself well educated on the subject. Before I could embrace the needs of others, I needed to know my own spiritual poverty. My prayers changed. My confidence languished. I questioned my own sanity. At first, my precious goal of doing seemed more elusive than ever. I soon learned that God uses us the most when we rely on ourselves the least.

In the midst of this angst, Gil of AGAPE Ministries, which seeks to use relational ministry to spread the Gospel in our city of Augusta (GA), called and asked me to go downtown to disciple some women in a predominantly poor African American community. Racial tensions run deep in our city, even in the church. Now that a real opportunity lay before me, would I really go? “When do you need me to start this?" I asked. Gil fired back, “How about now?”

The familiar panic ensued. I hadn’t thought this through. When would I go and do this? Could I go do whatever “it” was? Truly?

Women United in Christ Begins

God provided four other women from our church to go with me. We met at our church the first week, but quickly noticed the opulent surroundings made several of the African American women uncomfortable, to say nothing of the long walk these women made to get there. But the thought of meeting at a church near their neighborhood made us uncomfortable. One woman from our church took it in stride. “We’re boldly going where no white women have gone before.”

We drove five blocks down the street, where historic buildings faded to dilapidated and abandoned shacks. At the entrance to one of the worst housing projects in the city stood the tiny brick building, St. Paul’s Missionary Baptist Church. What would a stay-at-home mother of teenagers have in common with a single mom struggling to find work and a babysitter? Despite some obvious differences, we continued a conversation between the two groups of women. These women shared openly about their struggles with sin, their hopes for a better life, dreams for their families, their churches and community. I knew something about dreams like that.

“We need a name,” one of the women said at a meeting. “How bout, ‘Women United in Christ?’ Isn’t that what we want our community to see in us?” “Indeed, indeed,” another answered.

I found myself staying up late at night reading additional articles provided in the “if you have time” (even though I didn’t) section of the Chalmers Center course. Their core concepts of relational ministry seemed written specifically for our circumstance.

When Diane, one of my ministry partners, asked the group, “What’s God doing in your life?” we weren’t prepared for their answers. As each woman shared her heart, we stopped to pray for her. A simple format proved a powerful instrument. My late night Chalmers Center studies affirmed that prayer must be a central feature of any transformational ministry. The course assured me we had begun something of value. In the midst of a different culture and large obstacles, I needed every assurance I could locate.

These women called Jesus “Darling.” They prayed with an intensity I have never had, affirmed one another, and sometimes offered reproof. One woman wept as she read the Bible. When was the last time I wept over God’s word?

Before we left the first meeting, someone suggested we ought to sing. That sound of great joy spilled out of the building and into the street. It invaded my heart and mind all week. We’ve been singing ever since.

My calendar began to fill with additional commitments, meeting with various women in smaller groups. We called one another during the week just to check in. Cards and notes came in the mail. Sometimes I would go with someone job-hunting, another time I’d sit with a woman while her doctor explained to her the need for a certain medical test. We even sat in the back of a courtroom and prayed while one of our women stood before a judge. The Chalmers Center courses had warned me this kind of ministry takes time and can progress slowly. Remembering these things kept me from discouragement. Some of the women in this group lived their lives in a very different way than I did, but the bond we had grew.

I found myself reflecting on the questions we asked when we met together each week: What’s God doing in your life? Can you trace his hands on your day-timer and checkbook? How much of what is entered there counts for eternity? And if it doesn’t, what lengths are you willing to go to make a change? Suddenly I was the one being discipled.

Then a church friend, Delane, joined us. Delane has a homeless son addicted to cocaine. If anyone could say, “There’s too much going on in my life to be involved in urban ministry,” it would be Delane. Yet she prayed in earnest for these women every week even while she nursed her own aches.

And the Lord used her pain. One day Delane’s son came looking for her at our meeting. She had no choice but to explain her tears to these women. Another woman in our group stood and quietly said, “I know how you feel. I was addicted to cocaine. Let me pray for your son right now.”

A recovering addict prayed for God to call another addict out of darkness. She prayed in earnest because she personally identified with what Delane endured. In that moment, God melded two very different cultures into one purpose, one love, one Lord. Every Sunday we say we believe in one holy catholic (i.e. universal) Apostolic Church. I’m learning the location of that church includes the corner block of Telfair Street, Augusta where Women United in Christ reflects that reality.

United Faith in Action

Just before Christmas, our group met a 17-year-old mother named Mariah. She told us about her godly grandmother. When Grandma grew ill, Mariah took care of her. Mariah began to pray that one day she might become a nurse. When Grandma died, Mariah’s life fell apart. She grew angry with God and dropped out of school. For a time she let go of God, but He never let go of her. Mariah still needed the nurture of godly women like her grandmother.

Meanwhile, Women United in Christ had already been asking God for an opportunity to serve. The strength and courage we found in meeting and praying together needed to benefit our community.

When Mariah walked through our door, it was as if every woman in the room held a brand new daughter. We loved her instantly. Our love for her only deepened our devotion to one another.

On Christmas Day, Mariah, with a baby in her arms, became homeless. No shelter would risk the liability of taking a minor. Dangerous and heartbreaking choices seemed her only options.

But God had a plan. Less than five years earlier Janet Mackert read of a middle school in our county that had one of the worst scholarship records in the country. Through her Moms in Touch group, she began to pray for that school, the parents and teachers, and for God to raise up one special student. “Oh Lord, would you not call out one to stand for Christ?” Janet had no idea how God would connect the dots.

Janet’s daughter, Laura, was attending Women United in Christ. She easily connected with Mariah and asked Janet if she could bring Mariah home until a safer solution could be found. Janet later learned that during the days she prayed in earnest for the middle school, Mariah attended classes there. The answer to her prayers now sat at her dinner table each night.

Janet and Laura Mackert and the Women United in Christ began mentoring Mariah. Mariah enrolled in GED classes and passed the exam, making her a high school graduate! Somebody recently donated a car to Mariah, enabling her to get to work. One day, Women United in Christ will attend her graduation from nursing school.

With a relational-based women’s ministry in place, Women United in Christ has begun to see another core value of the Chalmers Center’s course blossom into fruition: Do not endeavor to do for a community what they can and should undertake themselves. A few women from Women United in Christ have begun their own ministries in the housing projects. One member of our group has been active in a nursing home for indigent patients. Others have begun children’s ministries in their neighborhood. These women minister far more effectively than any well intentioned outside church could. They know instinctively when a handout could prove harmful—echoing the Chalmers Center’s counsel.

Indeed, Mariah’s influence with friends and family brought the gospel to places and circumstances our church members would never see. Mariah’s life inspired her sister to begin GED prep classes, and Mariah took the opportunity to share the gospel when she rode the city transit.

The Chalmers Center courses integrated the concept of relational ministry with an unwavering conviction that gospel deeds also need gospel words. We wanted more than to improve the economic outlook for these women; we wanted to respond to their spiritual needs as well. As we continued to build relationships with one another, we supplemented the prayer times with discussions about God’s Word.

“I call it walk’ in through the Word,” one woman told me. “We talk about what God is doing in our lives, but we also want to know what He wants to do in the future. That ain’t no big secret. It’s all right here.” She pointed to her Bible.

Another woman summed up the spiritual aspects of transformational ministry better than anyone I’ve met. “I came here to get my soul fixed. I didn’t want a handout. I knew if God would fix my soul, everything else would fall into place.”

I still don’t care much for school, but the Chalmers Center courses proved that sometimes a little education can help you do what God called you to do…only better.

Gaye Clark and her husband Jim have been members of First Presbyterian Church Augusta, GA for over twenty years. Gaye works part-time as a cardiac nurse and freelance writer. She has been working in compassion ministry for over 15 years.

For more information about the Chalmers Center, visit us at www.chalmers.org.

12/14/09