c. 1999 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 _ From time to time I am asked _ often with incredulity _ why I became involved in ministry to the poor and imprisoned. What motivates me and what do I hope to accomplish?

The answers, I suppose, are rooted in my upbringing. Quite without realizing it, my father laid the foundation for my understanding of ministry, providing lessons that inform me to this day.

My father was a self-made man who believed that a person’s past, however bad, is not necessarily a reliable predictor of his future. The son of a sharecropper, born and reared in the Jim Crow South, Dad knew that desperate times can lead a man to commit desperate, even criminal, acts.

But he also believed that given a fair opportunity to redeem himself, the erstwhile criminal may well prove himself worthy of trust. And even if he doesn’t, the man’s true character will be revealed.

Thus, it was not unusual for my father to hire newly released ex-offenders to work in his home improvement business. Willie, Elwood and others were among the men my brother and I worked with as teenagers during the summers we assisted in Dad’s business. We worked, ate and conversed with them, all with no ill effects.

It was against this backdrop that my understanding of the intrinsic value of the individual began to take shape. If I could serve individuals effectively, I reasoned, the community at-large would be served as well.

How interesting then that investing in individual lives seems to be missing from many social programs today; that as we attempt to serve the wider community the value of the individual is lost. How interesting that in pursuit of more efficient and effective programs to serve people’s needs, the most efficient and cost-effective programs are too often ignored.

With the passage, in 1996, of welfare reform legislation designed to end, in President Clinton’s words,”welfare as we know it,”churches and other religious non-profits became eligible to provide services to recipients of Aid to Families with Dependent Children under the law’s”charitable choice”provision. This meant that, for the first time, sectarian organizations could compete for federal funds without changing the religious focus of their work.

Initially, there was little response to the provision because of the brouhaha over the ending of AFDC. Eventually, however, religious organizations began to respond to federal requests for proposals, with predictable results.

Most of the funding awarded to churches has gone to large, well-heeled megachurches, while relatively few grants have been awarded to smaller ministries.

On one level, of course, the funding disparity is understandable. Megachurches, particularly those located in the inner-city, are generally well-organized, multifaceted corporations. Their prestige often ensures that even without outside funding they are able to attract highly skilled persons to run their programs. Moreover, they are often led by high-profile pastors whose reputations and political influence lend a certain cachet to the ministries under their control.

Hence, programs funded under those auspices are generally given favorable press, thereby ensuring a win-win situation for grant funder and grant recipient alike.

But are they better?

My experience suggests that programs run by smaller ministries are often more effective and cost-efficient than those run by their megachurch counterparts. Why? The answer is commitment.

For example, programs run by small ministries often have a longer history of service to the poor than their well-to-do counterparts. Where larger churches often develop programs in response to the availability of funding, small churches tend to develop their ministries primarily in response to need.

As a result, though they usually have very little money, such shoestring budget programs often develop deep roots in the communities they serve. Indeed, in the inner city, the smaller churches often begin as parachurch ministries designed to address a specific need existing in the community, such as youth ministry or drug rehabilitation.

What such”blessing stations”lack in resources and prestige they generally make up for in devotion to their clients.

With little in the way of funding, they are less concerned with per capita costs than with the intrinsic value of their individual clients. Ironically, their commitment enables them to stretch their meager funds at great sacrifice to their workers, thus keeping their costs down.

Under the best of conditions, ministry is difficult and inner-city ministry almost impossible. Yet, if it is to be effective, such service must have at its heart an understanding of the value of the individual, a value bestowed by God Himself.

Ministries that impact their communities understand this truth. Any funding they receive is well worth the investment.

IR END ATCHISON