May 16, 2008
The Havenors are at home. We are planted in the urban center of Fort Wayne, Indiana. It is a neighborhood with century-old Victorian homes, 50s-style bungalows, mature trees and lots of lost people. It is exactly where we want to be. The surface images can fool you. On the outside, this area looks like any other older neighborhood. A closer look, and a set of ears, will tell a slightly different story.
We were prayer-walking recently on a beautiful early spring evening. I was impressed with the whole idea of outward calm and inner turmoil. I began to pray, “Lord, it looks so calm and peaceful here . . .” ready to add my insight that outward appearances can be deceiving. I never got to finish that statement—and didn’t need to. At that moment five quick pop-pop-pops shattered the quiet. “. . . Uh, except for the gunfire.” We laughed at the perfect timing. No, this isn’t Beirut or Baghdad. It isn’t Harlem or Watts or Houston or South St. Louis. But it isn’t exactly the New Jerusalem, either.
Missionaries should never go where it’s safe or where they aren’t needed the most. We are right where we are supposed to be. Against the backdrop of severe economic distress, hopelessness, drugs and violence, there are people here like you and me. They long for the kinds of friendships that bring life. The ministry upside in an area like this is unlimited. Friendships and community ties are natural occurrences here. Warm weather brings people outside on the porch. You can’t walk two blocks without stopping a half-dozen times to talk with your neighbors.
Like any missionary has to do, we are also adjusting to the local language. The high school about ten blocks away has over 50 languages represented. Talk about diversity! But there is a neighborhood lingo, too. We call this area the hood not because it sounds cool to use in a newsletter. It’s what the locals call it. As Bob works at the auto parts store five blocks away, he regularly hears customers talking on their cell phones telling the other party that they are finishing up at the store and then “goin’ back to the crib.” Goin’ back to the crib is the local shorthand for “Upon finishing this transaction I shall return to my domicile.” Crib is still a little edgy for us, but I think we prefer it and the lifestyle that goes with it.
Bob banged out a total rebuild of the bathroom and kitchen. Sue painted the whole interior, refinished the kitchen cabinets, and is busy on the yard. We have a lot of work to go, but most of the hard stuff is behind us . . . as far as the house goes, at least. What we have to concentrate on now is building our team and making disciples. Ah, it’s good to be home!