Posted 345 days ago

Suburban Missional: The Iceberg Underneath

by Kathy Escobar, the refuge

When Jesus sent his disciples out on mission, he told them to be poor, to take nothing with them. And he told them to do things that were impossible for them to do all by themselves. So it is for all missions. Communities and their members are called to be poor and to do impossible things, such as to build community and to bring healing, reconciliation, forgiveness and wholeness to people. Mission is to bring the life of God to others, and this can only be done if communities and people are poor and humble, letting the life of God flow through them.¹ (Jean Vanier)



We live in the suburbs—walking trails, strip shopping centers, tennis courts, pretty good schools. Most everyone has a car. Not too many bus stops or people loitering on the corner. A lot of churches with the word “community” in their names and big parking lots advertise great programs for families. The part we “see“—the tip of the iceberg—doesn’t look half bad.

The only problem is that underneath the surface exists a whole other world that nobody really talks about or even notices: the world of divorce, addiction, foreclosures, bankruptcies, evictions, domestic violence, spiritual doubt, and loneliness.

The Refuge is a “below the tip of the iceberg” kind of group. An eclectic faith community, we are deeply dedicated to people who are somehow on the margins in the suburbs. Although many of our friends struggle financially, others are marginalized in ways that don’t have anything to do with money. It might be kids with special needs, a divorce that divided the family, a crisis of faith that cost them relationships, an addiction that couldn’t be tamed, a deep desire for authentic, active Christian community beyond just words, or a long list of other possibilities that somehow lead them here.

The Refuge was born out of a deep desire to be a community that wasn’t afraid of what was below the iceberg; we also wanted to create a place that practiced equality, generosity, diversity, and intentional Christian community in bold and risky ways. We believe there’s a natural tendency in the suburbs toward passivity, disconnectedness, power, and homogeneity that can really limit the fullness of the kingdom of God. We also believe strongly in the power of Jesus to “heal the brokenhearted and set the captives free,” and that he calls us to be his hands, his feet, and his heart in the midst of real life.

We have been cultivating our community in the northern suburbs of Denver for the past three years. It has been a wild and tumultuous ride; sometimes I have wanted to throw in the towel. The lack of resources in our community and the overwhelming amount of spiritual, emotional, and practical needs sometimes gets to me. And then I get a call from someone recently divorced and on the verge of walking away from church all together, wondering if maybe it is possible to find Christian community in the midst of her pain. Or one of our single moms shares that this is the first time in her life she ever felt hope. Or we celebrate someone’s sobriety birthday and they say that they never would have made it had we not been along for the ride. Or someone who would never be considered typical “leadership material” because of their lack of education, skill, gender, or current struggle with God and life is leading from the front. These stories keep me in, deeply dedicated to living out what we believe about an integrated, honest, missional community in the midst of the ‘burbs.

There are unique challenges to Christ’s mission in the suburbs, and we continue to stumble along and learn a lot along the way:

• Safety seems to be the key ingredient. In order for what’s below the surface to be exposed, there must be a degree of safety that is far beyond the theoretical. Jesus said he came for the sick, not the healthy, but so much of the culture of the ‘burbs is focused on “keeping the outside of our cup clean” that it makes it hard for people to admit their struggles. In our community, safety gets created by courageous friends and leaders who are honest and vulnerable about their current life and don’t try to hide or pretend. We all are, as Henri Nouwen puts it, “wounded healers,” and our stories can provide hope to others. Honesty somehow levels the playing field and helps build bridges to God and others.
• “Authentic” is messier than it sounds. Most every church talks about authentic Christian community, but often, when people bring up their real story, doubts, and pain, some aren’t sure how to hold the space for people. We are learning how to create a safe container for heartache and to wait and love and pray and not rush the movement of God to relieve our own anxiety. It is sometimes so hard to do! What helps this is that many from the Refuge are in touch with their own pain and story first. It makes a big difference. Second Corinthians 1 is a guiding principle: we comfort others with the comfort we ourselves have received. Most will say that the most comforting thing to them has been having people to listen, love, and hang with them for the long haul in the midst of their pain, instead of trying to offer quick fixes, trite spiritual advice, or another counseling referral.
• Poverty doesn’t always look like what we thought. The ‘burbs are full of people living on the edge. We have several families who live in what looks like a nice apartment complex with a pool and a weight room and all the amenities. But the truth is that most everyone who lives there is on some sort of public assistance and are barely scraping by. The needs there are great. Mental illness and true disabilities abound, but because it doesn’t “look bad,” no one would ever really know how much desperation exists there. And on the same vein, there are people on my block who are victims of domestic violence, racked with addictions, on the verge of foreclosure, or contemplating suicide, yet drive brand new SUV’s and live in amazing houses. Spiritual poverty crosses race, class, and economics and is just as present in the ‘burbs as it is in the city.

• Diversity requires people who are willing to step out of their comfort zones. In the course of our community’s life, we have had many a person come and go, saying “we want to be around other people who are more like us” (as in, not quite as messy, honest, and diverse). I think this is the dilemma of the ‘burbs—the draw toward homogeneity. It is indeed easier and requires less of us, but when we retreat to places of familiarity and ease, we miss out on the beauty and challenge of true diversity in the kingdom of God. To me, there’s nothing more kingdom-like and gorgeous than to see someone who makes $600 a month becoming true friends-and-brother-and-sister on the journey with someone who makes $6,000 a month.

This barely scratches the surface, but will hopefully give at least a touch of our heartbeat and the challenges we continue to face as a diverse, eclectic community in the ‘burbs.

Notes

1. Jean Vanier, Community and Growth (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1989).

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