click here for the details!

Click here to view the embedded video.

since the first 1 night on the street in november 2007, i’ve been trying to track the results.

but with an event as essentially organic as the one we pulled off, it’s been a little difficult. after the event, we tracked over 200 people who made a commitment to come volunteer with ministries in the city of cleveland.  within 2 months, phone calls i had received led me to believe that number had grown to over 400.  this info came back to me through partner ministries that were reporting what phone calls that came direct to them was generating.

feeding the folks in ohio city

then, in late february 2008, pastor robert powell invited me to an event at the lonnie burten rec center on the near east side.  lonnie burten is the centerpiece of what was one of america’s original ‘projects’ from the 1930′s.  it’s a tough neighborhood, to say the least.

when i walked in the door, i was greeted by people who had set up a clothing distribution station.  pastor powell took me to the kitchen when a huge meal was being prepared.  dozens of volunteers were making this old rec center buzz.  then came the best part: i was told that the volunteers i saw had come together from at least 12 churches from 3 different counties.

wow.

if i could have had a wish from the genie before the event in ohio city, i would have wished for what i was looking at. and so, if you ask me how many people have become a part of volunteering in the city as a result of 1 night on the street, i must admit…i haven’t got the slightest idea…and that’s ok…right?

african immigrants barbq-ing goat (it tastes like chicken @ trinity

in the late summer, i was asked to speak to the city mission’s ongoing series of community engagement (and networking) called toward a greater cleveland. i felt like a bit of an amateur in front of a gathering that had sunk their lives into joys and challenges of the city.  i was hopeful that what i would have to say wouldn’t fall flat…the question / answer / comment time ran so long the lunch was getting cold. there is great passion for a ‘greater cleveland’.

so…where do we go from here?

in 2009, i am planning for the return of 1 night on the street. one event will take place in akron…another city that has been hit hard in the last 18 months, and another city that is filled with ministries that have been slugging it out in the trenches for a long, long time…and could really use the volunteer help.

in cleveland, the effort could take more of a ‘big event’ form…i have something in the works that i’m hopeful about, we’ll just have to see how things develop.  as they say in my business – ‘stay tuned.’ my gratitude to all who have discovered the joy of the mission field…in their own back yard.

onward…mz

On Jun 26th, Mark Zimmerman traveled to The Union Project in Pittsburgh for the Jesus for President tour.  Chris Haw (l) and Shane Claiborne (r), the authors of Jesus for President (Zondervan 2008) talk with Mark.  You can listen to their conversation about the book, the tour and what they’ve been learning.

(photo by Anna Zimmerman)

Interview Part 1
Interview Part 2
Interview Part 3

If you’d like to see how CNN covered the Pittsburgh tour stop, click for video here… or you can read about it here.

If you want to follow Shane and Chris and the Jesus for President tour you can read their blog here.

Recently, I met Esperance Barinakandi at the English as a Second Language (ESL) class run by Building Hope in the City. As we talked, Esperance began to tell me a story that has been repeated tens of thousands of times in the political/religious/ethnic hurricane that is the continent of Africa.

As we talked, I asked Esperance if she would sit with me sometime and record her story. When we did, I sensed moments as we recorded that I was “coming too close” to events that she did not care to relate at that time…and I backed off. What you cannot see from listening to the audio, were the small tears at the corner of Esperance’s eyes as she talked her way through what we did speak of. Photos by Anna Zimmerman.

As a believer, I often wonder how I would respond to true persecution. I wonder how I would respond to true trials. I invite you to listen to the story of Esperance’s family…persecution…trial…and joy.

Part 1…Refugees…from Burundi to Tanzania

Part 2…Coming to America

Part 3…Today – and Tomorrow

SOME NOTES FOR THOSE UNFAMILIAR WITH AMERICA’S “NEW REFUGEES”

Imagine for a moment that you are in the situation that Esperance’s family faced over the last 15 years…how do you think you would respond to -

…leaving the centuries-old home of your family…with nothing but what you could carry?

…facing death because of you tribe, Christian faith…or both?

…spending 11 years living in a tent?

…having to find your own food in a foreign land when the UN missed a delivery to your camp, forgot, or had your delivery hijacked by rebels?

…wondering if God had forgotten you?

Then, suppose the State Department of the United States of America had seen your case, and reacted favorably? Suppose you then had to -

…travel thousands of miles on your first ever ride on an airplane?

…come to a place where the temperature in December is 80 degrees BELOW what you’re used to?

…learn a completely new language and set of customs?

…learn what the following “essentials” of Western society are for – grocery stores, banks, electricity, plumbing, social service agencies, appliances, automobiles…(shall I continue)?

AND WITH ALL OF THAT…LET’S ADD THIS:

You have 180 DAYS to become self-sufficient in this foreign land. After that, your aid from the US Government drops off dramatically.

180 days. Could you do it?

Could you help someone do it?

Visit Building Hope in the City and let them know you would like to help. It’s not about giving cash, making meals, or writing checks…it’s about giving your time. It may be frustrating, and sometimes difficult, but it may be the best chance America’s new immigrants will have to successfully assimilate into American society.

The church on the Building Hope in the City campus is Trinity Lutheran. It was built in 1873…by refugees and immigrants. Those builders were the ones who welcomed our great-grandparents generation to this country…the next wave of immigrant and refugees. 135 years later, the church still stands, and now we are the ones charged with receiving our brothers and sisters who coming to America…may we do it as faithfully as those who came before us.

Next time: some numbers from 2007 on the refugees who have come to the City of Cleveland.

For more information on the situation in Africa these two books have given me a better awareness the first is God Grew Tired of Us by John Bul Dau (there is also a documentary film by the same name) and the second is A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier by Ismael Beah

This event’s purpose is drive the church to consider coming back to help our brothers and sisters who are working very hard, with very little, in city ministry.

In this essay, WCRF’s Mark Zimmerman talks about how his “academic faith”, turned into a more active faith…

The street festival was getting more crowded, the rappers were getting louder…and all around me were young Latinos and African-Americans who were reacting more than listening to what was happening on the platform. Standing next to me was Pastor Max from Nueva Luz, and we were talking about this neighborhood on Cleveland’s West Side – where it had come from, and where it was going – when he caught me by surprise by completely reversing Acts 1.8 on me…

I know…hold on…by this point, those of you who know me have already said (maybe twice), “Mark…at a West Side street rap festival? What’s a nice suburban white boy like him doing in place like that? Well, it’s actually a “not so long” story…

In May of 2006, my oldest daughter was preparing to leave for the summer to be a counselor at her aunt and uncle’s Bible camp in northern Minnesota. As she was getting ready to go, she handed me a book, and asked me to read it. I said I would.

And I did…within 48 hours.

The book was Shane Claiborne’s The Irresistible Revolution (Zondervan-2006), and needless to say, once I picked it up it was hard to resist the audacity of this 30-ish country boy from Tennessee who was now in full-time ministry at a ‘community’ of believers known as The Simple Way (www.thesimpleway.org) in the poorest neighborhood in Philadelphia.

The audacity? It came in the form of a simple question: What if Jesus meant all the stuff He said in the New Testament? Which brought on his next question: What if Jesus meant everything He said about the poor and marginalized in society? And that sent me back three more years.

I was outside the United States for the first time in November 2003. On my first day in the Dominican Republic, I was standing in the middle of the worst barrio in Santo Domingo. The noise of the motorbikes, the meringue music coming from the speakers in the windows, the cross-street shouted conversations…

The smells…cooking, sweat, gasoline exhaust…and urine. It was an assault on the senses.

Moments before, I had been inside a 10’x20’ concrete block ‘home’ with no electricity or plumbing where the gutters in the alleyway outside served as the only sewer system for the neighborhood. Now, I was standing in a traffic island as the barrio symphony pounded away at me from all directions, and I remember the only thought at the moment that could find room inside my head:

My life has just changed.

And I honestly felt it had.

When I returned from the DR in 2003, and from Guatemala in 2005, I told my listeners what I saw, what I felt, and what to do about it. I made nice photo presentations and spoke at whatever church would have me about my experiences.

But by May 2006, there was an uneasiness in my spirit. I knew I’d done good, but I also knew there was more…much more. Something was right in front of my face…and I was missing it. And then came ‘that book’. As I dug deeper in The Irresistible Revolution, I knew exactly what was missing, and I knew that it was right in front of my face. While my short-term mission experiences had been fruitful in one sense, I knew that there was always that ‘high’ upon returning that faded quicker than the memories of the places I’d been and the people I’d met. It was missing before I stepped off the plane home.

What was right in front of my face was there every day when I drove home from work. It was the skyline of my hometown…Cleveland.

The ‘poorest city in America’.

By June of 2006, I had walked in the front door of Building Hope in the City – www.buildinghopeinthecity.org - a ministry of Trinity Lutheran Church at West 30^th and Lorain in Cleveland’s Ohio City neighborhood. There are many inner city ministries in Cleveland. Certainly lots of bigger ones that get most of the press coverage between Thanksgiving and Christmas (the time the poor and homeless are most noticed…and tolerated), but I wasn’t looking for the biggest or the shiniest…I was looking for where I fit…and at Trinity…I fit.

I committed to bring a team from my church down to Trinity one Saturday a month to handle the “Community Dinner”. I was told that about 100 people usually showed up. Some were working poor from the neighborhood, some were just looking for a freebie, and some were homeless.

I was excited. And I shared this excitement with my wife.

“But,” she said gently but realistically, “you can’t cook.”

Details.

Have you ever been inside a GFS? Wonderful place for someone like me. We started slow, and “GFS-ed” our way through the first few months of feeding whoever came in the doors.

I walked in that first Saturday knowing absolutely nothing about these people. Who they were, where they lived, how they lived. I just grabbed a plate once everyone had been served, and sat down…to listen.

It was the usual…politics, sports, the neighborhood. Within two months, I knew who the “know-it-all” was, who the peacemakers were, and who was always trying to get ‘thirds’ when they tried the con that they hadn’t had ‘seconds’ yet.

My wife played hymns on the keyboard as people ate their dinner. It had a calming effect on the place…the conversation changed. They started talking to me.

“That’s my favorite hymn.”

“My mother used to sing that to me.”

“She plays that so beautifully…”

Connection.

A bedtime song. A confirmation day with a beautiful dress and a party at home after church. A family photo long ago lost.

I started asking questions. About them. About life. About faith. And I kept listening to their answers, their opinions, their ‘street theology’.

I asked for permission to pray for them and with them.

I asked them their names. And I remembered them (miracle). When they walked in the door, I would greet Ralph, Juanita, Paul, and “Red”.

I would make sure 8-year-old Maria would find one of my daughters to start a game going for the kids, and that her older brother Josh would find something to do to help me.

I would make sure to tuck away some of the unsold bread Panera would send over, and save it for Angie. Angie didn’t eat the bread, mind you, she lugged back across town to feed the birds and the squirrels of Cleveland’s near East Side. (Hey…the girl can hike…we found her once with her pull cart surrounded by pigeons at CSU…50 blocks from the church!)

The number of people at my church who wanted to help was growing. “Hey, can I come back with you again next month?”

We started experimenting with the menu selections. “What if we did meat loaf next month?” I asked.

“Does GFS have meatloaf?”

“No…what if everybody just made their own recipe? Let’s try that.” It worked.

“This tastes like my mom’s…hey, can your wife play I’ll Fly Away next?”

Connection.

Mom in the kitchen. Dad coming home. The aroma that meant ‘homework can wait’.

Over one year into my time volunteering with Building Hope in the City, I’ve learned a lot:

• How much food 100 people can eat
• How to find a “comfort food”…something homemade…for every menu
• How a homeless person can turn a church bathroom into their personal shower stall (yuck)
• How to pray a meaningful blessing before a meal
• How to keep peace when Angie’s jamming a half-dozen loaves of bread into her sack before anyone else has taken any (“C’mon man, she’s just gonna feed it tuh the birds!!!”)

And so much more… As I’ve met others in the neighborhood, talked to other ministries in the area, attended seminars, and looked at web sites I’ve accumulated some interesting information. (Like www.census.gov – the U.S. Census Bureau can give you some very interesting stats other than people and income…like whether English is the primary language spoken in a state, or a city, or a neighborhood) So, with about 18 months worth of volunteering, and a dangerously low amount of accumulated knowledge rattling around in my head…here’s what I think I’ve figured out:

The government isn’t going to “solve” poverty. If the economic/industrial expansion of “The Gilded Age” of the 1890’s didn’t do it, if the “New Deal” didn’t do it, if the gazillions of dollars of LBJ’s “Great Society” didn’t do it, guess what? The solution will not be found on Capitol Hill, at the Statehouse in Columbus, or at Cleveland City Hall.

Is Cleveland “the poorest city in America”? By the terms of measurement used by whoever’s controlling the stat sheet in DC…yes.

But…

Great question.

I’ve admired my Mennonite friends for a long time, and in the last year, I read a short book on Mennonite theology – and I came away more impressed. Mennonites have the audacity to believe that James was right when he said that “faith without works is dead.” In fact, if you don’t show the evidence of “works” in your life, a Mennonite will question whether your faith really exists.

What I’m saying is simply this: the suburban church needs to take the focus off itself, and retake the cities it has fled in the last fifty years…for Jesus’ sake. Not with donations and programs. But with our hands and feet.

You get more out than you give. From the steaming barrio in Santo Domingo, to a lonely country orphanage in a cold, dark-at-4pm northern Latvia, the formula stated above works. I look forward to my Saturdays at Building Hope in the City as much as any day of the month…because I get out more than I give. From the people that serve with me, to the people I serve, I’ve discovered another piece of the Gospel: The parable of The Good Samaritan. The answer to Jesus question: “Who is my neighbor?” Understand…my discovery came not because I hadn’t read that passage before…I had. Dozens of times. My discovery came this time because I chose not to ignore the passage. It echoes how I saw the homeless for many years. When I worked in Downtown Cleveland, they were always there…I just chose not to see them. Even though (I said) I was a Christian at the time. Years of saying I was following the Lord…only to realize that’s it’s a lot harder to walk next to Him when you keep crossing back and forth across the street to avoid the people you don’t want to touch…or see…or smell.

As I’ve said, I would make no boast that I have figured out a special revelation for God, I’ve merely figured out that opening my eyes and ears is resulting in an opening of my heart as well.

We need to go “back to Jerusalem” Let’s go back to that rap festival on the West Side with Pastor Max. As I was looking at this scene of a church meeting that neighborhood’s generation where it lived – in the street – Pastor Max was talking about Acts 1.8. You know the verse…Jesus is talking to his followers before He ascends into heaven. He tells them to take the Good News from Jerusalem (the city), to Judea (the “close by”), to

I can’t turn my hometown around all by myself. Neither can you.

Could a few dozen of us turn around a neighborhood school? Could a few hundred of us help a few hundred adults learn to read…get their GEDs…and help them become truly employable? How would that affect the caseloads at social service agencies? How would a neighborhood where people watch out for each other allow police officers to be assigned differently in the city? No new taxes. No extended curfews. No big speeches. Just Christians…one by one…ten by ten…coming into the city on a regular basis, and being Jesus hands and feet.

Okay. So where do I start? On November 15^th & 16^th, WCRF will hold an event called 1 Night on the Street. During this live broadcast event, direct from West 30^th & Lorain, listeners will hear about the needs and opportunities in the city. By way of a web database, and a phone bank at WCRF, listeners will be able to connect with and commit to city ministries of all kinds:

• Feeding the hungry
• Clothing the poor
• Tutoring children
• Tutoring adults
• Teaching English as a second language (ESL) programs
• Helping with senior & nursing home programs
• Job training

…and many other ministries in the city. What makes this event different is that there will be no fundraising, and no “stuff-raising”…

We’re “raising people”.

The city ministries will take good care of you, and be assured, they have plenty for you to do. You think your suburban church staff is overworked and understaffed? Just come to the city. If you’re good at something, you’re needed. Take a chance. Choose a ministry. Come to the city…just once. If you’re like me, you’ll go back for more.

It’s time to go back to Jerusalem.