Chapter 31 autumn church

A church on Zumber Avenue in downtown Detroit faces a vacant lot.The behemoth is a Gothic structure of red brick and limestone that looks as if it was blown by the wind from another century.Very pointed towers, arched gates, and stained glass windows. There is a painting depicting the apostle Paul asking: What must I do to be saved? The building itself dates back to 1881, when the area was full of single-family mansions and wealthy Presbyterians.They built a church that could seat twelve hundred people, the largest congregation in the American Midwest.Now the mansions are gone, and the Presbyterians are gone.In this poor and desolate little settlement, the church seems to have been forgotten.Its walls were decayed, its roof was crumbling, its stained glass windows had been stolen over the years, and a few windows were boarded up.

On the same street, half a mile away, is the famous Tiger Baseball Stadium.I always pass this church when I drive to Tiger Field, but I never go inside.I have never seen anyone walk into this church. As far as I know, this place is abandoned. I'm about to make further discoveries. After the Archmage startled me by saying enemy, shit enemy, I had to reexamine some of my prejudices for a few months.The truth is, even though I'm committed to philanthropy, I still have a mental divide between my side and other people's side whether it's cultural, ethnic or religious.One thing I learned as a child (as do many others): Charity starts at home and starts with helping others like me.

But who is my kind?I live far from where I grew up.I married a woman of a different faith.I'm white but live in a city with a majority black population.I'm lucky financially, but Detroit, where I live, is facing bankruptcy.The economic depression that is about to hit the entire United States is already showing its signs on our streets.Job opportunities are shrinking at an alarming rate.The house was taken back by the bank.Buildings are dilapidated.The auto industry, the main source of income, is disintegrating, and the number of unemployment and homelessness is soaring, and the numbers are alarmingly high.

One night, I came to a Christian shelter in the city center, intending to stay there one night and write about my experiences and experiences.I waited in line for blankets and soap.They gave me a bed.I heard a pastor preach about Jesus and I was amazed to see how many tired people with their chins on their hands still want to hear how they can be saved. As I was queuing to get my food, a man turned to me and asked if I was who he thought I was. yes, i said. He nodded slowly. So?What's wrong with you? The experience of that night prompted me to set up a charitable donation to help the homeless.After we raise funds, we distribute the money to the shelters in each district.We pride ourselves on having no overhead and administrative costs, and we stop distributing money if it's out of sight and out of reach.This means we have to do many face-to-face visits.

So, on a wet September afternoon, I drove up to the decaying old church in Zumber.I was told that the pastor of the church ran a small asylum here.I'll see if it needs assistance. A traffic signal swayed in the wind.I got out of the car and locked the doors with the remote.Beneath the church walls were aluminum folding chairs, the cheap ones you take to the sea; a man and a woman sat there, both African-American.They stared at me.The man is missing his left leg. I'm coming to the priest, I said. The woman stood up.She pushed open a small red door with loose hinges and entered.I am waiting.The one-legged man leaned against the chair with his cane and smiled at me.He wears glasses and nearly all his front teeth are gone.

It's quite hot today.he said. yes, i said. I looked at my watch several times.I take turns shifting my weight to the other foot.Finally, there was movement in the shadows. Then. Then a huge man stepped out. A man of enormous size. I later learned that he was fifty years old but still had a baby face and a short, thin beard.He was tall enough to be a basketball player, but he weighed over four hundred pounds.His body seemed to be decomposed into several layers, a thick chest followed by a big belly, hanging out of the waistband like a pillow.His arms pushed open the sleeves of his loose white T-shirt.His brow was sweating, and he was panting as if he had just climbed the stairs.

I thought to myself: If this dude is a priest, I'm a moon man. Hello.He gasped and held out his hand: I am Henry. ◇◇◇ A sermon given by the Great Master in 1981 The following story was told to me by a military chaplain: A soldier is stationed far away.His youngest daughter, at the airport, sat among the family's crude luggage. The girl wanted to sleep very much.She leaned on the boxes and duffel bags. A woman came up, stopped, and touched the child's head. poor child.She said: You have no home. The child looked up in surprise. We have a home.She said: "We just don't have a house to put our family in.