Technology Woes

Technology is a great thing…until it doesn’t work like you want it to. For the past two weeks I have not been a happy technology camper. Right before I left for 4 days to attend the Christian Community Development Association Conference in Philadelphia (Sept 27-30), my ethernet connection on my computer went bad. Thankfully, my computer is still under warranty. However, I needed to take my laptop with me, so I packed it up and carried my wireless card with me to Philly. Last year at the conference they had a wonderful setup with a free wireless area. So this year I was hoping (and expecting) for the same. I get to Philly and no wireless. In fact the Starbuck’s in the hotel lobby wasn’t even a hotspot. So as soon as I returned to Memphis, I called Dell. However, it was noon Thursday last week before my computer was fixed and I could check emails and do other business. In fact, for two days I had to use my secretary’s computer because mine was completely unusable.

Hopefully, now that I am back in business, my technology will continue to function properly and my updates will not be so far apart. See below for a new post—“Broken Doors.”

God Bless

Brooken Doors

The following is taken from Tony Campolo’s book Revolution and Renewal: How Churches are Saving Our Cities with stories by Bruce Main (Louisville, Westminster John Knox Press: 2000), 16-18.


I once met a Catholic priest who had a fascination with doors. He believed that the front door was the most important part of a church. The door, he claimed, should be something that beckons people to come in. It should be something intriguing, something that “whispers the mystery that lies beyond it.”

The door of our church used to be white, shiny, and metallic, smooth and new looking; it could have graced the cover of a church supply catalog. The door was seldom used. As a matter of fact, the door reflected the church that existed inside the door—unused. With only a couple of hours of use each Sunday, the door had little chance to tarnish its beauty. It just sat there, not living up to its calling as a church door—that is something that used to allow people to enter a place where the mysterious Divine dwells.

But last week we had to replace the door. Since our rambunctious youth program arrived at the church three years ago the door had changed. The shiny, white metallic finish had been dulled by the continual touching and thumping or dirty hands. There were gouges, dents, and holes in the door created by kids who were late for events and needed to be heard. The bright brass trim around the mailbox had been ripped off. The inner core of the door could now be seen and had begun to spill its contents onto the surrounding sidewalk. Perhaps the brass had been stripped to be sold or taken off in an effort to rob the church. Whatever the case, the fancy trim was gone. All that was left was an ugly, roughly cut metal hole, through which the mail person could shove the mail each day.

Days before the door was replaced, it would hardly open. The only hinge connecting the door to the frame was the top one. And even that hinge had been reset a number of times. The other hinges had long ago been ripped out of their home and tossed in the scrap pile. As the door was opened, shut, slammed, a propped over the last three years by children, teens, and staff, the door collapsed. Finally the screws gave way, and the wooden door posts disintegrated.

So the door was replaced. The cost: eight hundred and fifty dollars to put in a new frame and metal door. Unfortunately the trustees in our church didn’t share in the same door theology as my priest friend—that a door should create a sense of mystery and intrigue. We got a new, white, shiny metallic door.

Although I grimace over this expense in our budget this year, I do have to chuckle over the fact that we wore out a door. Children broke the door! Not intentionally, but because they wanted to get into the church. Something was happening inside these walls that was calling them off the street to come into this place where God lives. The door began to serve its purpose. Despite its lack of ascetic intrigue, the door had began to live out its calling as the threshold leading to the one place where God dwells. What was taking place on the inside had become intriguing and a mystery to the little ones who desperately wanted to get in.

The more I thought about our door, the more I have wondered how many churches in America can boast over the fact that they had to replace a door because of the dents and holes made by young people trying to get in.

But if the church really lives up to its calling, should it not be replacing its doors more regularly? Wouldn’t it be exciting if churches across America all of sudden had to start ordering custom-made doors to replace all the doors that were being broken. Just think how wonderful it would be if churches had to start hiring special “door ministers” just to keep door knobs from falling off and hinges from snapping. Right next to Minister of Music and Christian Education Director in next year’s budget would be “Door Minister.”

Yet if the church really does become that “beacon of light on a hill,” those who surround her should be lured and drawn in through the doors. If the church becomes a vibrant and integral part of the a community and if spirituality does begin to intertwine itself with everyday life, doors should wear out. The church should become a place of traffic.

What changed in our case? Why did the church begin to change from a mausoleum to a beehive of activity? Why did children from the community start coming to a church that had lost its voice in the community? One of the reasons is that we started going to the community and extended an invitation to its people to come. But the invitation was not just to come and fill our pews for an hour on Sunday morning. Children were invited to come and express themselves through dance, play like creative children, study things that were fun and interesting, sing crazy songs, eat ice-cream sundaes, go on trips to out-of-the-way places, and produce their silk screened tee-shirts. In short, we tried to make what was behind the doors of the church intriguing. We tried to evoke the curiosity of our children and teens. Since 50 percent of our city’s population is under the age of eighteen, we decided to make children our focus. After-school programs, evening Bible clubs, computer classes, and dance class are just a few of the events we designed to make the church an appealing place to come. And they have come. And, Lord willing, they will continue to come. And, quite probably, a few more doors may be broken before its all said and done.


For anyone who has been to Wonder City’s building you can relate to what Bruce Main is relating through this story in Campolo’s book. Wonder City has replaced doors, repaired holes in the walls, and had to do other maintenance because of kids and teens in the building. I have to admit, I usually have gotten upset when damage is done. Like Main’s kids, I know they didn’t intentionally break it. But it is money that has to be spent. I used to look at the damage and just see kids and teens that needed to be corrected, trained, and disciplined. Yes, some of our kids need to learn some discipline.

But when I read this the other day, my whole perspective changed. I now look at the holes that still need repaired and I see the lives that have changed. Don’t ask me why, but Wonder City attracts kids and teens. Teens who attend Wonder City invite their friends—who come and invite their friends. It is not uncommon to have more teens in a church service than adults. I am glad they are there. I am glad that we are offering something that intrigues them. I am glad they are finding something at Wonder City they can’t find on the streets of West Memphis and they find it valuable enough to invite their friends to come and experience as well. Our building is not perfect and it could use some major work. While I would like to have a nice building to use that does not need repairs, I would rather be known as a church that is active and alive. I would rather be known as a place that welcomes those who are not welcome in other places. I would rather have some kids and teens that need to learn discipline accidentally doing damage to our building than have them running the streets. I would rather replace doors and repair walls than be a church that doesn’t welcome children (Mark 10:12-14).