Thomas

Thomas

Thomas R. Jones

(November 21, 1962 — July 14, 2017)

It was in November 2016 that Thomas was diagnosed with cancer. The news was delivered with a quiet shock that reverberated throughout our staff at South Street Ministries. He hadn’t been feeling well for a few weeks, talking about allergies and body pains.

But cancer? We never saw it coming.

Overnight the entirety of the organization changed. Our Executive Chef at The Front Porch Café, the one who was the heartbeat of the Café since its beginning 7 years ago, had Stage 4 cancer and was to begin radiation treatment immediately. We scrambled to fill Café shifts and ministry gaps, stepping in as the Body of Christ to support our family, dear friends, and co-workers, Thomas and Toni Jones.

There isn’t quite anything that can prepare people for that kind of news.

We found ourselves all at once stepping in the middle of liminality. Thomas quickly began radiation in December, losing his hair but never his faith or tenacious, gentle strength. Even as he battled cancer, he embodied the consistency, loyalty, and faithfulness that we all loved in him, showing up at the Café frequently to check in. He supervised, asked questions, delegated, encouraged—sometimes wrapped in a blanket to keep warm if he was feeling particularly sick that day. Oftentimes he would have to go home after a few hours because he was too tired. Even other times, Toni would have to take him from the Café straight to the hospital.

Every week at Staff Meeting the first quarter of 2017, Thomas and Toni would share testimonies about what they were learning about the character of God. Thomas and Toni would talk about how although he was sick, God was still Good. Staff Meeting became a sacred place of processing for us all, as we witnessed our friend and brother courageously battle cancer and the Jones’ practice a deep faith in God that inspired us all. In the midst of shock and unknown, it was the faith of Thomas and Toni who carried us through. We prayed for healing.

While Thomas was thick in his first set of treatments around February-April, we read from this book “Spirituality of Gratitude” by Joshua Choonmin Kang every week at Staff Meeting. It was a book about what it looks like to practice the heart-posture of gratitude in light of difficult circumstances—something we found ourselves needing to practice with Thomas’ diagnosis and radiation treatment journey. Kang writes, “It is extremely difficult, if not impossible, to be thankful for hardship or tragedy or pain during a crisis. How can a person diagnosed with cancer be grateful for the cancer? How can one be thankful for losing a loved one in a tragic accident? If anyone knows gratitude in that circumstance it is not for the crisis itself, but for God’s sovereignty in the midst of suffering.”

A few of us on staff sat by Thomas’ bedside during one of his last days with us and read stories and Psalms out-loud to our brother, co-laborer, and friend, declaring in shaking voices the faith that joined our stories together in the first place. There isn’t much more to say right now than this—that we loved Thomas Jones, and that Thomas Jones loved Jesus. That he laid down his life for those around him, that he lived his life in service to our God, and that to his final breath he declared God as Good.

Shout to the Lord forever, Brother.

 

(written by Amber Cullen)

Life of a Girl

 

D’Vyne Murry (bottom right) wrote this original poem for Girls Studio’s Spring performance in collaboration with Gum-Dip Theatre: “Explosions of Color: A Girls Studio Production.” Girls Studio empowers girls in the Summit Lake area through providing a safe space to navigate personal expression through the arts. The ten-week program serves to pastor girls in truly knowing their inherent value and worth as Beloved daughters of God. To learn more about South Street’s youth programs, please go to www.southstreetministries.org.

 

Life of a Girl

By D’Vyne Murry

From a little girl we were told we could be anything we wanted

To dream big, to shoot for the stars.

We laughed and skipped with joy.

Life was at its easiest.

 

They asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up.

We told them things like: Princess, Doctor, Dancer.

 

When we were older, they asked us again, but on a more serious note.

So we gave them answers like: Chef, Banker, Nurse.

But what they really don’t know is that we told them those things so that they would stop asking.

They forget that we are girls, going through things–physically, mentally, emotionally.

 

There are things I still don’t understand,

Like what it means to be a Woman.

What persecution will I have to face to succeed in life?

What do I have when everything is gone?

These are the questions that run through my head.

 

 

 

Palm “Galley Boy” Sunday

I didn’t go to church on Palm Sunday. I didn’t have it in me to celebrate a “triumphal entry” of Jesus and wave palm branches and cry “Hosanna!” I’m a fan of Palm Sunday, don’t get me wrong. I love a good celebration and a good spontaneous party. I’m just also an introvert so the only party I’m probably gonna show up for is one where Jesus is actually processing again and we’re not playing re-enactment cuz I don’t have energy for that.

 
I don’t know if you know the story, but Jesus comes into Jerusalem and the people are really hype about it so they lay their coats on the road and wave palm branches from the fields and cry “Hosanna!” and welcome him and it’s pretty cool. The religious leaders are in a tizzy, but everyone else is enjoying themselves. The religious leaders wanted a Messiah (Savior) who rode in on a majestic horse or something…I can’t remember. All I know is they didn’t want a donkey and they were like “This Jesus guy is not cool enough/right enough/fit in our boxes enough to be the one who is going to set things Right.” BUT HE WAS and that’s the kicker of the whole Gospel thing is that Jesus was the underdog who was actually the top dog that got executed by the state but that’s a whole nother story I digress.

 
But I was reading the story and I was like “What…The Triumphal Entry?” (Matthew 21, Mark 11, Luke 19:28, John 12:12) Like, triumphal entry for whom? I’m not sure why it’s called the triumphal entry because I’m pretty sure a majority of people were not down with this whole procession thing and it’s further implications. I mean the guy comes in and basically says he has street cred and totally challenges the framework of the place. He challenges Empire. He challenges the very essence of the city. And that never makes the status quo happy. Especially when your whole life work is spent maintaining something and this bro comes out of nowhere and starts eradicating boundaries and laying down a new law for the land.

 
Like, today. I’m waking up, taking it easy, looking out my window in Summit Lake and wondering what it would look like if Jesus did that whole procession thing in Akron. Okay. First off, there’s a lot of problems with this idea. One, we don’t ride donkeys. There’s no way two disciples are gonna come in Akron and find a donkey to bring back for Jesus to ride downtown. He’s just gonna look waaaaaay strange. Two, we don’t have palm branches that we found out in the fields. I wish we had palm branches. Again, it just ain’t gonna happen. This is a city in the Midwest. Three, we don’t have cloaks to lay down in the middle of the path, nor do we have paths that we use for transportation. How could Jesus even have a procession in Akron?

 
So I start to think that maybe Jesus actually sent his disciples to the Metro station to borrow a Greyhound. Their logo is a dog. Dog, donkey—close enough. So the two disciples are drivin’ this Greyhound bus they borrowed (sorry fam who’s about to miss your bus, but trust me you won’t want to miss this procession) trying to figure out how to get back to South Akron where Jesus is but the construction is a mess and so they end up running over a few orange cones and cursing a bit and going down the wrong way of a one-way street but they FINALLY make it back down S. Main St. and out of the city.

 
Jesus hops in at the faaaaarrr end of S. Main and maybe the disciples put streamers on the back or maybe there are signs saying “Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee!!” but Jesus ain’t that flashy so he probs just gets on the bus and invites people who are walking down S. Main to hop on cuz they can’t afford the bus. Actually, no. I’d like to think that maybe these walkers are the ones who are actually running ahead into South Akron and Summit Lake, frantically knockin’ on doors and gathering a crowd to welcome the slow moving Greyhound bus.

 
I dunno. Anyway, I’m probably chillin’ in my house in Summit Lake thinking way too intense about life but I hope there’s a knock at my door (probably from a neighbor-kid) shouting at me “JESUS IS RIDING DOWN BROADWAY IN A GREYHOUND BUS COME QUICK” and I’m like “Wut. Who’s Jesus?” and I hop up and get my shoes on tho sometimes I’m slow moving so it may take a while and I’m running out there with everyone and their mother from the Peter Maurin Center and Save-a-Lot and the strip clubs and the take out stores and Long St. and Main St. and Archwood and Church’s Chicken and South Street and the auto shops and the random buildings that I don’t know what’s in them and all the spaces in-between and we’re in a tizzy trying to sort out what this slow moving bus is about but you best believe we know this is no joke so we show up.

 
The crowd is quickly gathering and slowly moving down Broadway and we’re rushing to fill all the potholes with dirt ahead of Jesus and move all the orange cones so the ride isn’t so terrible (cuz this construction is a mess.) We don’t have cloaks to extend on the path, but we do have a deep sense of Midwest hospitality and we know potholes are the worst. We edge closer to South Street, to Thornton, people coming from Summit Lake and South Akron, streaming from the varying buildings offering social services, social support—ALDI’S. THERE IS A CROWD COMING OUT OF ALDI’S. SOMEONE’S BRINGING A CHEESE PLATE! It’s a scene! We pass the Metro station and hit University housing and students join. I hope some bring protests signs because it wouldn’t be a good crowd without a protest of some kind.

 
We’re entering downtown and we don’t have palm fronds but someone had the foresight to bring hundreds of Galley Boys from Swensons so we’re tossing bags and waving our burgers to welcome Jesus to Akron. IT’S A PARTY IN DOWNTOWN ON BROADWAY. CONFETTI EVERYWHERE. GALLEY BOYS ARE FLYIN’! HOSANNA! HOSANNA!  YAY JESUS! SO MANY RANDOM AKRON-ITES GATHERED TOGETHER AROUND A GREYHOUND BUS!

 
After Jesus is welcomed into the city he goes to the temple to check it out and sees that people are sellin’ stuff there and he get super upset and flips the tables and drives the sellers out. Holy space is to be kept holy. The priorities of the religious are out of line with the heart of God, and Jesus flips the tables to bring light to this dissonance. That is the role of a prophet—to bring light to the dissonance and challenge the powers that be.

 
I don’t really know what that looks like to contextualize this part of the story to Akron. I’d like to think that maybe Jesus meanders the procession down to King James Way. I like the dissonance of that—Jesus being in the space where we welcomed another proclaimed King (James) with a giant procession.

 
I’d like to think he stands on the stage at Lock 3…and just stands there. Maybe all my neighbors from Summit Lake and South Akron are still there, finally eating the Galley Boys, taking a break and resting from a long walk. Everyone else probably left, having more self-proclaimed important work to do.

 
I’d like to think that Jesus finally opens His mouth to teach, on a sunny April day at Lock 3, and he speaks the words he spoke when he first began his ministry in Nazareth: “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

 
Ooo…Yes. That is a triumphal entry, indeed.

 

Reconciliation & the Depth of God’s Love

Written By Eric Harmon

If you are like a lot of urban ministers you have probably have an interesting group of people you call friends; former addicts, Nepali refugees, prostitutes, Chinese businessmen, etc… Some of these people are gentle and easy to love and some have their challenges. Often our gatherings are composed of a motley crew all in pursuit of Jesus. This is one of the things I love about being with my South Street family — you can never surprise them with the guest you bring to Thanksgiving dinner!

I have known a guy named Butch for years. He is like a lot of guys I know on the street, sometimes he is homeless, often he is addicted, and usually he is pleasant. Some years ago he was lucid and made an effort to fight his demons. Butch is an unlikely poet with a beautiful voice for singing. But, recently it seems that his mental illness has taken over and he no longer writes or sings. He disappears often, but in time reemerges, he tries to sell me something, I usually decline, and we talk for a while. I hope he starts to write again. Butch was known for his work as a sub-contractor for “Hells Angels” and did a significant amount of time for a series of robberies, one of which where a police officer was killed. He can be a challenge to love and he is my friend.

Reconciliation is a transformative process that is often messy and is a core Christian Community Development Association value. As I have heard John Perkins say before “Reconciliation is much more than getting together singing one another’s songs and eating the other’s food!” But as most of us know reconciliation comes from one on one hard heart work. That takes time, trust, and a reciprocal relationship that is open and vulnerable or what we know as a friendship. Reconciliation is not something one takes on alone. It is certainly impossible to be reconciled to “your neighbor” on your own, improbable “to God”, and difficult “to yourself.” There is a wise African proverb that says “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” Reconciliation is a long journey and a friend is a partner in this transformative process.

Thomas Merton, a modern contemplative speaks of the “false self” and the “true self”. The “false self” being the identity of the individual the world has formed within them; addict, murder, loser, loner, etc.   The “true self” being the created self that God intended; beautiful, humble, valued, a child of God. The Body of Christ, a friend, is a guide in overcoming the obstacle of the “false self” embedded within all of us and an aide to rediscover the “true self.” It is messy, ugly, long and truly liberating process to separate what one has done and even who one has become, from who I truly am and who God created me to be. It is a painful process I had to undergo after a tour of duty in Iraq and a two year prison stint, to reveal the red-headed kid from the suburbs who has an impulsive sense of adventure not meant to be used for warfare and crime, but for bringing service in the love of God to some unstable places to some challenging people who were not so unlike myself.

There is an odd verse in Ephesians Chapter four where Paul describes Jesus’ ascension and descention. He ascended that he might also descend and took “captivity itself a captive” and “gave gifts to his people.” I am sure there is some commentary on this that presents a different meaning however, I take this to mean that after the cross even captivity is under the dominion of Christ, so that even the captors (the traditional enemies of God and the oppressed) now have the opportunity to be set free from that which captivates them. This is of course not just for their own redemption, but so that they may participate in liberating others held in bondage (gifts). These gifts are for us, the Body of Christ, the friends of “sinners”, to guide us in the process of reconciliation. It is here we empowered with the audacity to love and hope for some truly challenging people.

This sounds like some nice stuff to give some hope to some challenging people, so maybe they will feel a little better and move along. I wouldn’t believe it myself, however I have seen it work. I have seen the sex offender reconcile, get a job, a house, a nice wife, and become a respected member of the church and his community. I have seen the negligent mom lose her kids for good and after years of transformation in process have the courts grant her custody of children that needed a mom. I have seen the violent offender reconcile, overcome that which disturbed him and once healed, turn around and dedicate his service to justice. I don’t see it as often as I like, but by the grace of God I see it enough to have hope for the next guy.

Building Beloved Community

 

Building beloved community.

The phrase has been ringing through my head all day.

I remember during my Mission Year during our National Orientation in Atlanta we walked to the MLK Jr. National Historic Site. There was a flame encircled in brick, forever bubbling from the ground, with a plaque that read “The Eternal Flame symbolizes the continuing effort to realize Dr. King’s ideals for the ‘Beloved Community’ which requires lasting personal commitment that cannot weaken when faced with obstacles.”

Building beloved community.

“I want to canvas on D’vyne’s street and bring her coffee,” I whisper to Ruth. We were down at the Summit Lake Community Center gathering with other local leaders to hand out flyers to let people know about our community meeting this Thursday.

Our community council is a crew of unlikely partners, all brought together by a deep care for the Summit Lake community. We’ve revitalized the monthly neighborhood meetings, with a desire to build greater connection in our neighborhood. And here we were, 9am with Dunkin’ Donuts in hand, getting ready to go out in pairs on MLK Jr. Day and hand out flyers.

“LET’S GO TEAM!” I screech in excitement as we walk outside in the cold. My enthusiasm is met by laughter, but I just can’t contain it. So many people I respect and care about walking around talking to my neighbors whom I respect and care about about a community meeting that I respect and care about. It’s like a Director of Communication and Advocacy’s dream!

My team is Jeremy, Ruth and I and we get in my car and park at my house because we were given Long St. as a canvassing route. I’m really excited about it because it gives me an excuse to meet a lot of neighbors I haven’t gotten a chance to meet organically, and a chance to visit neighbors I haven’t seen in a while. Darren meets us so then we’re a team of four, splitting up the street and taking sides. Ruth and I are having a blast, walking from door to door, cracking jokes, making Instagram stories. I watch her be a complete rock star, telling people about our community meeting, the importance of their perspectives, and an invitation to come join us. She leads in confidence at such a young age.

We visit our Girls Studio friends, I see some AfterSchool loves, and we connect with parents, grandparents, teens–people in our community who remember Summit Lake in many different seasons. We hear concerns for our community and curiosity about the neighborhood association. We are connecting people, connecting story, sharing life.

Somewhere at the end of Long St. I realize that we are building beloved community.

*  *  *

We’re back at the community center and Jeremy and Darren have left and it’s just Ruth and I. “I want to go bring D’vyne some of this coffee,” I state. Aliyah joins us and we hop in my car with the coffee to bring some to D’vyne. It feels like we’re having a mini Girls Studio reunion and I love it.

We pull up to her house and hop out of the car and stumble onto the porch, rap on the door to see an unfamiliar face opening the curtain, asking who we are.

“We’re here for D’vyne–it’s Aliyah, Ruth, and Amber.” We hear the message relayed to the adjoining room and then we hear an excited scream and D’vyne tumbles out of the house and wraps us in a hug. We’re laughing, just laughing, shoving Dunkin’ Donuts coffee in her face and she’s grabbing her shoes and vanilla coffee creamer and Mama comes out and says she can go wherever because she trusts us.

All of life is but an adventure.

We end up at Save-a-Lot because it’s Aliyah and Ruth’s mom’s birthday so we decide to make a surprise birthday cake for her. She likes chocolate a lot but there’s no chocolate icing so we choose brownies and powdered sugar instead. I grab chocolate pudding, Ruth grabs candles, D’vyne grabs frozen Chinese food and we’re hustling through the check-out line.

Finally we’re in my Summit Lake home, taking off our shoes and letting out a sigh of relief. This space is a safe place–a place where we’ve laughed and cried, a place where we’ve met for Studio, a central hub, a hang out spot. They said they just wanted to chill, and so we chill. We bake a surprise birthday cake. I make us lunch. We take a nap. They do the dishes. We laugh. We live life.

We are building beloved community.

*  *  *

Later in the day I’m at our AfterSchool volunteer orientation, laughing with our incoming interns and volunteers. One is a high school friend of mine, two are interns from Malone, and the third is stepping into being Program Director while I begin to do more Communications and Advocacy work at South Street Ministries. We play a couple of games, eat pizza and wings, and talk about AfterSchool as a program. I think about the AfterSchool families I visited today while canvassing, telling them that program was starting this week (to which one grandma firmly said: “Oh, they’ll be there!” as her four grandkids buzzed around her asking question after question).

In the same day I’ve connected with AfterSchool families and AfterSchool volunteers. It’s such an unlikely partnership, but that’s what we’re about at South Street. We’re about putting people that don’t make sense together into relationship because we believe that God is there in those in-between spaces. We believe that shared risks are the vulnerability on which trust, empathy, and healing are built. We believe that renewing our community is a process that is always undergoing and never complete. We believe in Jesus, who taught us to be a neighbor–who taught us to center our lives and decisions to include and amplify the voices of the most marginalized.

After orientation David insists that we go get the mango drink at the taqueria that I rave about. We pile into the South Street van and head to the plaza in Firestone Park, only to find that the place is closed for the day. Thankfully the little grocery store next to it is open, so we walk out with three Jarritos and a wave to the local store owner.

We are building beloved community.

*  *  *

“Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday dear Mom
Happy birthday to you!”

My heart is so full of the laughter and love for this place, for these people, for this work.

We are building beloved community as an active verb and not a passive, idealistic noun.

What a raw, clumsy, tangibly beautiful life.