Urban Jackson is built on dividing lines
Severed by roads that hold back
The Bride of Christ from embodying herself
In her truest form:
A multi-ethnic beauty that refuses
The socio-economic boundaries
That society declares “must exist”
“No” rebukes our King
For he is just as much for them as for you
He is no respecter of persons
He shows no partiality
Our dividing lines are our own
Do not staple them to the cross
For the blood that drips from that tree
Is enough to cover
Anyone the world denies
Friends and enemies alike
For when we serve the poor and powerless
We serve Jesus
And if we truly serve Jesus
Then we must serve the poor
And if we don’t
Then where is our Lord?
How can we see him
If we do not behold his face
We serve not for fresh media
To post to impress
But we serve so that the heart of God
Might be more deeply impressed upon our
Already-but-not-yet resurrected bodies
A spiritual/physical hybrid
Of the new creation making its way
Into the urban landscaping of this Jackson
We call home
So Let the Jackson Church rise and become
Heaven on a moving truck
Not moving in to gentrify
But to diversify
Not making space for more Christians
But redeeming space for new Christians
Right here in our own sector
May we walk across the dividing lines
That try to hold us back from
Being what Christ calls the church to be.
Our neighbor’s drunkenness
Or heroin addiction
Or outdoor yelling match
Or frequent gun shots
Make them no less a child of God in waiting
For Christ has paused this long
So that more might be saved
And if we look at Jackson with those eyes
We will love our neighbors as ourselves
And raise up disciples
In the least expected places
Let the church acknowledge
Both her own scars
And the scars she’s inflicted on others
So forgiveness might unify
And “peace that is no peace”
Might grow into the spiritual fruit
Of peace that passes understanding
Lay down your anger
Knock down the walls that keep you stunted
Let the Spirit free you from your bondage
So that you may help him
do the same for others
For He has come to set captives free
Not to create prisoners
He has come to liberate
Not to lock up
He has come with a life-abundant sentence
Not a life-sentence
So let him more deeply into your life
That He might break you out into his
May Jackson be stifled no more by apathy
But instead, allow the utopia of Pentecost
To pour out of our mouths and actions
Like tongues of fire, love and praise
That provision would be met for the poor
Through the hands of the Spirit
Made manifest in the metamorphosis
Of transformed Christians
That allow Heaven into every fiber
So that our city may be renewed
By Christ-likeness
May Heaven and Jackson meet
Like a sloppy wet kiss
May we have the audacity
To dream big enough
To try hard enough
To serve low enough
And to suffer as necessary
For we are called to crosses
Not penthouses
And as it ends up,
Crosses have a way of changing the world
May we not worship without expectation
May we not pray without action
And may we not return home
Without mission
Holy Spirit, fill your church in Jackson
That we might reap a harvest
Jamin Bradley 