How Do We See the Cities?

How Do We See the Cities?

Publication: The Lookout

Date: November 15, 2009

Column: First Look

Category: Missions; Urban Ministry

I don't like cities that assault our senses with nerve-jarring sirens and choking smog. The human nose and the exhaust pipe of a large bus were never meant to co-exist.

I don't like cities on stormy days when pedestrians cling to wind-whipped umbrellas and slog along in soggy shoes. Longfellow wrote, "Into each life some rain must fall," but I'm guessing he never had to drive in rush-hour traffic after a clogged storm sewer flooded the streets.

I don't like cities where crime is a constant threat. Who wants to feel scared in their own home? Who wants to risk being mugged simply for walking down the sidewalk?

I don't like cities whose governments are inefficient and corrupt, dominated by leaders more interested in political power than serving the people.

I don't like cities when they become microcosms of sin and degradation condensed into a small space—where the false gods of selfishness, greed, and sensuality hold sway.

I don't like cities where children grow up unsupervised, poorly educated, and without hope. When I ride the subway and see despair etched on the passengers' faces, when I drive through a neighborhood at 11:30 on a summer night and see young boys and girls hanging around aimlessly on the street corners, when I hear a news report about the murder of yet another teenager whose life was snuffed out before it barely had a chance to begin—no, I don't like cities at all.

And yet . . .

I like the excitement of a cheering crowd in a big-league stadium.

I like the convenience of top-notch medical care, well-stocked stores, and inexpensive public transportation.

I like skyline views on a crisp fall morning and at night when the lights sparkle from a city on a hill.

I like quaint and quirky urban neighborhoods with their unique styles of architecture, and restaurants where cooks trained in other lands prepare ethnic food and serve it with flair.

I like well-groomed city parks that provide respite from the crowds and noise, and museums and libraries with their quiet nooks and rows of books.

Most of all, I like to ponder how the Lord looks at cities. He sees the problems, that's for sure—but at a deeper level than my shallow likes and dislikes. He sees the injustice and cruelty, the loneliness and frustration. He sees the city and weeps over it.

But he also sees the potential there. He sees how the children could be loved and guided toward a productive future. He sees how the poor could be sheltered, clothed, fed, and restored to the dignity of responsibility and work and hope. He sees the wealthy who could find true contentment through a lifestyle centered in Christ. He sees the powerful who could find joy through servanthood and self-sacrifice. He sees the addicts and the criminals who could find freedom and peace by his power.

Cities are home to millions of prodigal sons and daughters who have strayed away but remain dearly loved by their Father. Cities are strategic, influential nerve-centers where the church can gain a foothold in the cultural strongholds of our world. The Lord sees cities as missionary outposts worthy of our most diligent prayers, our most generous dollars, and our most vigorous labor. He sees past the dirt and the danger, past the glitz and the glamour, to the hearts of the people. He sees the crowds as sheep who need a shepherd.

I like that.