I was planning on being here for two weeks; two weeks is about to become two years.
Baltimore has the third highest homicide rate in the nation: it's seven times the national rate, six times the rate of New York City and three times the rate of Los Angeles. I've heard first-hand that HBO's series, The Wire, does an accurate and life-like job depicting what life in Baltimore's public housing projects is like.
I've met several men and young women who didn't watch The Wire; they grew up living The Wire. I've also met men younger than me who own 8-figure yachts ... "wizard businessmen," entrepreneurs and heirs who quickly became bored motoring their multi-million dollar palaces around the world.
Lots of churches would probably welcome well-dressed guests with out-stretched arms; many fewer would likely to extend such a welcome to visitors with needle tracks on their arms or to guests who smelled like they'd been living under an overpass for the past six months.
But who do you think has seen the bottom of life's pit and is most ready to receive the gospel?
The bored yachtsman and his trophy, trendy wife, who're looking for the latest temporary thrill? Or the addict or the street prostitute ... the people who're literally dying, daily, to find what's Real and Everlasting before they lose their lives?
Who's ready to hear the words Christ and Forgiveness, and immediately understand what Salvation means?
Sharing the gospel isn't like the Olympics, with one church earning this year's bragging rights because it earned more gold medal salvations than another church across town. Spreading the gospel is deadly serious business, the only one having eternal consequences ... with the outcasts, the misfits and all the "I'd Rather Not Include Them" people ... the ones who're different from us ... the prostitutes and the addicts in-between, facing the consequences of indifference.
