Bluegrass Garden

Saturday (yesterday) was a huge day. It was the day of our 2^nd bluegrass night at the church. We put up a sign (which is all we did last year.) In addition, we also sent out a card to every house in the neighborhood. We were able to define the neighborhood pretty closely—Russell Cave Rd. to Meadow Lane, and then New Circle down to a few blocks south of Loudon Ave. All told, that is 2943 houses.

It’s hard to get a count. I am guessing between 250 and 300 folks throughout the evening. Last year 115 registered, but a lot more were milling about. This year, 190 registered, but it looked like people kept coming and coming. We had a big inflatable for the kids, corn hole, and then hamburgers and hot dogs. The Blue Dawg played and it was awesome. On a night like that, you don’t really get to listen to the music—you’re there to meet people, invite them to church. When the band took a break, I preached a short message. Andres and I feel confirmed in our plan for a revival next year, using this model. We hope to have 5 days of music and food, with preaching every night.

A lot of people were there because they got the card we sent out, so it was good to see that it worked. Maybe the best thing was the number of people who said to me something like this: “It’s awesome that you have so many different times of people—white, black, Hispanic.”

The band didn’t really do any gospel songs, but Paul Bailey would not be denied. He got Amanda Burton and Jessie to go up and sing while the band played. It was awesome, a great way to end the night. The band had a ball being there, and it showed.

There’s all kinds of stories that come from a night like this. Like the woman who gave me a hundred dollars because she likes what we’re trying to do in bringing all the kinds of people from the neighborhood together. Or the guy who I invited last year. He asked, “will there be beer?” When I said no, he made it quite clear that he would not be there. But he came this year. Danced a bit. When I got up to preach, he listened more than anyone. I was talking about not being conformed to the pattern of this world, using Southern terrapins and their pitfalls when they hear the call to mate. They sometimes get caught on railroad tracks, and the only way out they have is if someone comes along and rescues them, taking them off the tracks and putting them back on the outside. The guy’s comment while I was preaching was that “sometimes they just get right back on the tracks.” He said it sadly and confidently, from experience.

We would not have been able to pull it off without help. We had lots of youth volunteers, and the staff was really on it. We broke down, tables cleaned and chairs put up in about 30 minutes. Some of the folks who came started helping, too. Especially the guy who said he wouldn’t come unless there’s beer. He carried six chairs at a time—you can get a lot done with help like that. I wish I could give props to everyone—but I do not want to leave anyone out.

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It was a day of evangelism of the work of the gospel. These bluegrass nights are attempts to get to know large numbers of people, to introduce them to the church and to others in the neighborhood.

But the day started in the garden. We worked there all morning—hoeing weeds in the carrots and beets. Thinning out the turnips. Harvesting radishes. We’ll have radishes and spinach for the salad at the Monday evening service and meal.

A number of things are happening in this work. First, we are doing good work to feed the hungry. Second, we are doing the prep work for evangelism. When to crop comes in, it will feed the hungry and be a witness to our work for Jesus. Third, it is community development.

I need another word besides community, because it is used so much that it no longer has a meaning. And then there is all the terminology that people are adding around “hospitality.” There are conferences and seminars on recovering Christian hospitality. When you start with conferences and seminars, it’s over. It becomes an idea, a set of propositions. And pretty soon, you’re reading so much and talking so much about it that you don’t do it. Or you confuse the talking and reading with doing.

There’s nothing to it but to do it. So there we are, pastor Andres, me and Jessie, Matthew and Robert Highfill, and David and Noella Mapigano, with Malipo, Benjamin, and Melissa. We worked together, took a break together, and talked about spiritual things, and helped Matthew and Robert to think a little more about working towards their future. David shared with us a dream that it is so much in line with a vision God has given me that he, Noella, Jessie and I spent a lot of time rejoicing as we weeded carrots. David wants to go to seminary and become a pastor. He wants to go back to Congo. The Lord laid on me two years ago, when the African refugees started coming, that He was bringing people from all over the world here, like Jerusalem at Pentecost. We should reach out and support them and then send them home (if they can go back) and support their mission work. That works if they’re from Honduras, Congo, or Ukraine. But I digress.

Do you want a house of hospitality? Open it up. For meals, for play, for getting to know each other. Now, by this point, the neighbors come to our house if they need to talk, or are looking for some help. And they know to come for a meal with others. The Thursday night dinners are finding more and more new people, more and more people at the edges of Christian fellowship, but who are getting closer.

Do you want find “community?” Find some common work (like a garden, whose purpose is to feed the hungry and allow you to share Christ). Do the work together.

Do you want to follow Christ to the least and the lost? Then do it. You’ll have to have a house of hospitality. And some common work (the garden is never better than when people from the neighborhood, or people who receive the food come to help. The chances to talk, to be together, to share words and thoughts…)

Quit talking, start doing.