c. 1997 Religion News Service

(Samuel K. Atchison is an ordained minister and has worked as a policy analyst and social worker to the homeless. He currently is a prison chaplain in Trenton, N.J.)

UNDATED _ A few days ago, a small handful of African-Americans from a church in High Point, N.C., traveled 600 miles by car to worship with the prisoners at the New Jersey prison where I serve as chaplain.

As on their previous visits, these Christians came at their own expense and returned to their homes the next day.

The church people were greeted eagerly by approximately 130 inmates, many of whom were openly moved by the love that was expressed through their ministry.

What made this encounter so significant? Why did the pastor, the Rev. Brad Lilly, and the members of Shiloh Pentecostal Holiness Church, travel so far for so short a time?

And why did the inmates _ many of whom, like most black men, had rejected the gospel from their youth _ embrace the church members so warmly and with such affection?

Two words: love and trust.

The members of Shiloh were compelled by the love of Jesus to share their faith with the prisoners, regardless of the cost. Simultaneously, the inmates felt free to trust this small band of Christians, because their love had been expressed consistently over a period of many years.

From the dynamics of this relationship, a model for church-community relations can be seen.

In his book,”Convicted in the Womb,”human rights activist Carl Upchurch recounts the harrowing but uplifting story of his rise”from prisoner to peacemaker.”A former gang member and convicted felon, Upchurch’s work in reconciling rival street gangs has been recognized by the White House and the United Nations.

In assessing the black community’s leadership base, Upchurch speaks glowingly of his youthful experience in a black Baptist church _ an experience which would bear fruit in later years. The church’s ministers, he says, inspired him, and the congregation”made me feel welcome.” He notes such churches have historically served the black community as”our mother, the essence of our life.”The best of these churches, he says, have produced civil rights leaders who”represented their voiceless, anonymous black flocks with intellect, vision and courage.” Sadly, however, the church’s traditional role in the community is going by the wayside.”Too few churches are providing that kind of leadership,”he writes,”and too few communities are willing to accept their nurturing.” Churches”get mired in budgets and member counts and feuds with one another … leaving them neither the time nor resources to continue their historical mission.” The surrounding communities are likewise concerned with their own survival, rendering them incapable of asking for the help they need.

The result is that a spirit of apartheid develops, separating church and community and making both ineffective.

The irony, of course is that the gospel message both empowers the church and provides life to the community. When the gospel is shared by the church with the community, a divine symbiosis develops which nurtures and sustains both. In other words, the church’s love engenders the community’s trust, causing both to be reciprocated.

It is for this reason that the relationship between the members of Shiloh and the inmates at my prison is so important. It ensures that the needs of both will continue to be met.

MJP END ATCHISON