Haggart Street

Haggart Street is in a rough neighborhood in the Kensington area of Philadelphia. It’s undergone all types of demographical changes over the past 50 years creating a melting pot of Irish, Italian, Puerto Rican, African American and Asian residents. Beyond the racial and ethnic divides on this street are literally dozens of diverse opinions, tastes, styles and worldviews. Almost all the residents would be defined as “working poor”, on this street with the exception of a couple “crack homes” that house the addicts and homeless. Beyond the place in which the residents dwell, these people have almost nothing else in common.
Our mission team was in Philly participating in a short-term mission project that included helping out in a homeless shelter and leading a Vacation Bible School for neighborhood kids. Our team had come with the intention of bringing this street together . . .or so we thought.

It was the 4th of July and we were located smack dab in the middle of the city of “brotherly love" (or brotherly shove depending upon rush hour traffic) where the Declaration of Independence was signed. The pride of the city resonated strong within its residents on this day.

As missionaries for the week on Haggart Street, we led, connected, played, prayed and blessed. Things you would expect of a missionary team. But, later that day, something strange happened that short-term missionaries don’t expect. We were targeted, reached-out to and given an invitation. We were invited be special guests at a Independence Day block part on Haggart Street that stretched the couple blocks between Frankfort Ave. and Emerald St. We, who had come to give, invite and bless, found ourselves a grateful recipiants to special invitation where we would be blessed in a unique way. We, came dispensing the goodwill of the gospel...and found ourselves recepients of goodwill. God works in mysterious ways.

By 9 a.m. two strategically parked cars on each end of the blocks created the necessary road block and simply shut down all through traffic for the day. By 10 a.m. residents were scurrying around like ants dragging out their barbeque grills, sweeping their front stoops and wishing neighbors a happy 4th in preparation for a day of festivity, communion and celebration.
Although there were at least four different generations represented on the block and no less than five complexions of skin shades seen in the streets. . .all gathered together as one on their street. Old and young, black and white, man and woman joined together in sharing their grilling recipes in between plays of a great and rowdy game of “street football”.

One neighbor went house to house collecting every person’s favorite music CD's and proceeded to play the entire block's “favorite hits” on his stereo throughout the day. Music ranging from Puff Daddy to Frank Sinatra to Conway Twitty served as an audible reminder that we can co-exist and yes, even celebrate our personal differences. Although the street hummed different tunes that day, they all really sang the same song. It was the song of unity and harmony. And, this song was powerful and tangibly noticed in people’s smiles, embraces and generousity. For hours that afternoon and evening, the Haggart St. gang laughed together, danced together, shared stories together.

The unity and harmony I felt that day amidst so many stranges was, well. . .almost otherwordly. This was not some contrived unity where we all get along because we are all suburban soccer moms. Nor, was it a unity emerging from corporate perfection marked by the absence of brokenness and bruises. No, these folks were none of that. What I saw happening that day was a taste of unity that arose in spite of diversity….harmony despite imperfection.

As I walked up and down the street talking with the elderly, playing hacky-sack with smiling kids and bantering with men about how the Packers would take down the Eagles next season, what I felt was a kind peace that arises out of collective brokenness. Sort of like these Philly residents were saying, “yea, we got problems, and we’re not okay. . .but it’s okay. . .cause today we are Philadelphians and we choose to celebrate what unites us.”


As I mused on this amazing evening later, I began to think of Haggart St. as a metaphor of the Church. The Church must be a people who are collectively broken before one another…and before God. Like Haggart Street, the church is about a people in a specific locale brought together by a celebrative event (Christ’s ransom on our behalf), who share what they have in common and choose to focus on those things which unify (Christ) instead of that which divides (self-interest).

What a picture of the body of Christ I had discovered in Kensington Philadelphia. This living picture of a great block-party still resonates with me today. It continually challenges me. If a handful of people without Christ can put aside differences and become one for a moment in time. . .how much more those of us in the Body of Christ!

Haggart Street beckons me to ask what a Church without walls might look like. A place of true belonging where we are part of something larger than our own individual identities. A place where each is free to admit our mutual brokenness without fear of judgment.

How much does your church community look like Haggart Street? I'm convinced that Haggart Street can exist whenever we are willing to put aside our personal preferences for the prefences of Christ. His body was torn apart to bring us together.

What are you doing to create Haggart Street experiences within those places God has called us?

Lay down the ax, Take up the cross

Sometimes those of us who are deeply committed to the body of Christ can also become the church's harshest critics. In my own journey I've found myself wanting more for the Church. That longing for more has often led to frustration and sometimes cynicism.

A while back I wrote an e-mail to a friend, confessing to him that I'm way too harsh on my indictment of the Church. Perhaps you've struggled with being too harsh on Jesus' body too. If so, I hope this challenge nourishes you today:


"I've been guilty recently of being too harsh and cynical of the church. Sometimes, I wonder if it hurts Jesus when I am so frustrated and sick of his Church. It is HIS body after all. And he still loves her...with all her quirks, failures, imperfections and ugliness. It's easy to be critical of the church and its problems, until I realize that one of her problems is . . . me!

I want to look at broad brush strokes and sweeping trends in the culture of the American church and criticize her accordingly. But rarely want to do put my own life through such a candid analysis! As I look in the mirror I am mindful of how little I spend time in prayer and fasting and weeping on behalf of Christ's body, and am floored at the realization that this is precisely what I condemn the universal church for not doing.

One of the verses of Scripture that has provoked me deeply is Paul's mysterious words in Colossians 1:24. He writes, 'Now I rejoice in what was suffered for you and I fill up in my flesh what is still lacking in regard to Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, which is the church'.

Instead of throwing rocks through at a glass church that is feeble and frail and such an easy target of criticism, Paul realizes that his own life is no way divorced from the life of the church. So instead of analyzing the gaps in the church as a whole, he looks at his own life. He concludes that his own blood, sweat and tears are somehow helping to fill in the gaps of what's still lacking in this suffering, struggling gatherings of people that God has named 'the body of Christ'. Instead of dishing out blows towards the church, he is willing to receive blows on her behalf, realizing that the weight of his own suffering is in some mysterious way being used by God to make the church stronger and more whole.

Perhaps God is calling me to lay down the ax I have to grind and pick up the cross I'm called to bear. In this text, Paul seems to be responsible for Paul. The responsibility of the Church at large. . .well, Paul leaves that in the hands of Jesus.

So, throughout my day today, I'll continue to wrestle with a church flooded with American consumerism, entertainment-based faith and individualistic Christianity. I'll deal with people with deep pockets but shallow hearts, believers who are apathetic towards things that break Christ's heart and saints who are lost in their cynicism. Yes, this is the American church at her worst...and perhaps in some cases at her best. But, I don't want my life's legacy to be a cranky critic who played a good game of arm-chair theology about all that's wrong with the church today.

Rather, I aspire to be like Paul. A man able to respond to a church still lacking, by believing that IF I give my all, Jesus will use my life towards the greater good of his Church...even if tangible results are not seen in my own lifetime".

Jesus gave His body for our lives. May we give the best of our lives for His Body."