So 1:30am on a Saturday night. Where else would I be but driving out to my favorite reliable 24 hour kinkos for some bulletin issues…

Stop at the grocery store. Return my 3 Redbox Rentals (300 ****, Freedom Writers ****, Borat **) and get a monster cookie and a skim milk for the road home…

The lady in front of me is chatting with the checkout lady about working at the grocery store in my neighborhood. I live in North Minneapolis….

She starts to ring me up and then says, “Bet you’re glad you don’t live over there. Can’t go outside your house without getting shot. Don’t ever go over there.”

I mention I’m going there right now.
“Well, you better bring your bullet-proof vest. There’s nothing good about that place.”

I then very calmly mentioned that I live in North Minneapolis. That it’s my neighborhood she’s talking about.

I gave a line about “being entitled to our opinions.” and got the hell out of there. pretty much pissed and fuming.

Listen. I’m not immune to the violence. On the contrary. It scares me. I worry about my family some days. I’ve heard gunshots right outside my backdoor and I’ve walked through a line of crack dealers to get to my front door. I’ve seen one of my neighbors running down the street chasing somebody with a gun and my other neighbor holding his 45 cocked and using the corner of my house as a hiding place.

I abhor the violence. I hate it with everything in me. But I recognize it as a symptom of the disease, not the disease itself.

God left us the opportunity to be his justice in the world.

“Just as you did it to the least of these, you did it to me.”

Most of the time, it feels pretty safe here. We know our neighbors. We’ve built relationships. We share a cup of sugar and two eggs just like they do on Leave it to Beaver. But we also share something deeper. We share a bond built on the love of our neighborhood and the peace that comes from looking out for each other.

Some might thnk that Norh Minneapolis is a warzone. Hey- I’ve said it from time to time when I get so angry about the bullets flying in the streets. But it’s also God’s promised land. The new kingdom here on earth is wherever God’s people are. Wherever there are disciples of all nations. Wherever there are people who are transformed by the renewing of their minds.

I pray that we stop painting the picture that the only thing worth mentioning about this place is that our young black men keep killing each other.

There are passionate teachers.
Passionate preachers.
Connected neighbors and families.
Everyday people trying to make ends meet.
And there are the least of these.
Those with no home.
No more support system.
Paying the rest of their lives for their bad decisions or their parents poor choices.
And there is a remnant.
A remnant of people passionately pursuing God’s justice for this city.

I need to do a better job of painting the picture…and remembering what it looks like.