Sacred Sidewalks

What urban ministry has taught me about equity and belonging

Breaking Bread, Building Community

When Jesus broke bread at the Last Supper, he didn’t just establish a sacrament.

He modeled a radical vision of community. “This is my body, broken for you,” he said, inviting tax collectors and fishermen, doubters and zealots, to share equally in his presence. Two thousand years later, I’m still learning what it means to live out that table ministry in the heart of a city.

I used to think I understood church. With fifteen years in ministry, I knew how to craft sermons, lead small groups, teach Scripture, and develop strategic plans. But I missed something essential. Church isn’t a place you go. It’s a people you belong to. A communion of saints who see each other across real differences and say, “You are one of us.” That’s what Resurrection Downtown is teaching me.

The Radical Equality of Communion

We’re the only Resurrection location (there are 9 across the Kansas City metro) that offers communion every single week. That’s not a logistical decision; it’s a theological one. Our congregation reflects a wide range of lived experiences. Some live in luxury apartments; others sleep in tents. Some sit in boardrooms; others haven’t held a job in years. And yet, every Sunday, we gather at the same table. And something holy happens. When a CEO worships beside someone who slept on the sidewalk the night before, no one is a project. No one plays savior. As Augustine once said,

“We are all beggars telling other beggars where to find bread.”

Everyone comes hungry. Everyone leaves fed. We are all sinners in need of grace.

A Table Beyond the Walls

But the cool part is what happens at the table doesn’t stay there. On Monday, when these same people cross paths outside a coffee shop or at the bus stop, they don’t see a stereotype. They see a neighbor. A fellow worshiper. Someone with whom they’ve shared the body and blood of Christ. In fact, that’s why we don’t run food pantries or clothing closets out of our building. Instead, we partner with local organizations already doing that work well. It’s intentional. Because we don’t want people walking through our doors to feel like clients. We want them to know they belong, not because they received a service, but because they are essential members of the body of Christ. Everyone is equal at God’s table. This is incarnation theology in action. Jesus didn’t just come to just live among us. He came to level the playing field.

When Faces Replace Headlines

I remember one of my first Sundays at Resurrection Downtown, when a family showed up carrying all they owned. They had taken a train, then a bus, and one of the stops landed them right at our front door. They didn’t speak English. They were immigrants seeking asylum. And they had nowhere else to go. We played with their kids on the floor. Learned their names. Found someone to translate. And one of our staff members even went to great lengths to assist them with their immigration case.

Well, a few weeks ago, that same family moved into a rental house with donated furniture, the support of their new employer, and the quiet, steady help of our church community. Before this, I had certainly followed the debates. I had read the headlines and held opinions on immigration policy. But I had never looked into the eyes of a refugee child stacking building blocks in our lobby. And it changed me. I will never forget that day.

Erasing the Imaginary Lines

Father Gregory Boyle once said,

“There is no ‘them’ and ‘us.’ There is only us.”

That’s what urban ministry does, it erases the imaginary lines. Before Resurrection Downtown, I wouldn’t have said this out loud, but I had my own internal categories. I saw those battling addiction as people who might “get there” someday. I saw those experiencing homelessness as folks who needed to “get it together.” I saw them as someday people. Someday they’ll be easier to love. Someday they’ll belong. But Jesus doesn’t see someday people. He sees people as worthy right now. Loved. Whole. Not a mission. Not a project. Not a problem to solve. In God’s economy of grace, they are not waiting to belong. They already do.

The Sacred Streets

And when that truth sinks in, it shifts everything. Ministry stops being about how I can help and starts being about where Christ is already at work and how I can join him there. That shift changes how you lead, how you pray, how you show up.

Karl Barth once said we should read with the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other. Urban ministry feels like walking with Scripture in your heart and the city beneath your feet. The streets become a sacred text. And what you begin to realize is that urban ministry isn’t about saving the city. It’s about letting the city save something in you. It’s about letting your theology grow legs and walk down the block. It’s about taking seriously what Jesus said when he declared,

“Whatever you’ve done for the least of these, you’ve done for me.”

He wasn’t speaking metaphorically. Christ is here. In forgotten corners. In overlooked people.

Thin Places in the City

The Celtic tradition speaks of “thin places” …those moments where the boundary between heaven and earth feels especially thin. Urban ministry creates thin places, not through shiny programs or perfect plans, but in quiet, ordinary acts of faithful presence. When a businessman shares his umbrella with a neighbor experiencing homelessness during a downpour. When a recovering addict offers wisdom to a struggling college student. When a newly arrived immigrant teaches us a few words in their language. When strangers who’d never interact in our segregated world share bread and cup as equals. These aren’t just kind moments. They’re glimpses of the kingdom breaking through. As N.T. Wright puts it,

“The future has arrived in the present.”

A Cosmic Restoration Project

This work has stretched my understanding of the gospel. What I once saw primarily as an individual transaction between God and the human soul, I now see as the beginning of a cosmic restoration project. God reclaiming all creation, starting with our relationships. The gospel proclaimed on city streets isn’t just about saving souls for heaven. It’s about embodying heaven’s reality here and now. It’s about building communities that reflect the values of God’s kingdom: dignity, justice, mercy, and radical belonging. When Jesus taught us to pray “your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,” he wasn’t pointing to a distant future. He was commissioning us to live that reality today.

Only “Us”

And I’m realizing that the people I once thought needed saving are often the very ones through whom God is saving me…from my comfort, my blind spots, my too-small theology. Urban ministry isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about asking better questions. It’s about paying attention. It’s about staying rooted in place long enough to be changed. And it’s about stretching the table so wide there are no edges. Only open seats and a Savior who says, “Come and eat.”

This is the church I’m still learning to recognize. Not a building. Not a brand. But a people who see Christ in each other and say, with full conviction…

“There is no them. There is only us.”

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P.S. Every Friday, I share a behind-the-scenes video just for paid subscribers called Behind Mainline. If you’ve been tracking with these posts and want more depth, that’s where it’s happening.

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