HOUSTON
CHRONICLE ARCHIVES
Paper:
HOUSTON CHRONICLE
Date: SAT 01/09/93
Section: RELIGION
Page: 1
Edition: 2 STAR
A HEAVENLY TOUCH
Outreach revitalizes downtown church
By RICHARD VARA,
Houston Chronicle Religion Writer Staff
ST. John's United Methodist Church is the spiritual shelter for
Tony Thomas, a 32-year-old who used to be a homeless crack addict.
The 76-year-old church at 2019 Crawford has opened its doors to
downtown's homeless, and has rescued Thomas from a year-long,
drug-marked odyssey on Houston's streets. The doors may open wider
still as St. John's revives under the pastorate of the Rev.
Kirbyjon Caldwell.
Caldwell, among Houston's best-known pastors, directs one of
the area's most dynamic Methodist churches, the 6,500-member
Windsor Village United Methodist Church at 6000 Heatherbrook near
Missouri City.
Although placing one church under the wing of a stronger one is
not a novel procedure, Methodist officials are breaking new ground
by putting an inner-city church under the aegis of a successful
suburban congregation. Although Windsor Village provides the choir
and pastor and pays the bills, St. John's remains autonomous.
Thomas, a Jones High School graduate and former Marine, has
been off crack for several months, a recovery that earned him a
return to his mother's home. He is St. John's handyman, a
volunteer cook and a member of the church's board of trustees.
"They showed an interest in us (homeless)," Thomas
said. "They didn't try to push us aside or make us sit in the
back or sit us on the front row and make a spectacle of us."
As Thomas' life has turned around, so has the life of St.
John's.
Once St. John's had only a handful of members. Sunday's 10 a.m.
service now attracts 400-500 worshipers, including 50-75 homeless
people. The church serves 300 meals weekly to the needy, after
Sunday morning worship and after a 5 p.m. Wednesday service.
That success buoys Caldwell.
"We saw St. John's as an excellent opportunity to deliver
help and hope to the residents of downtown Houston," Caldwell
said. "We felt we had the commitment, the compassion and the
competence to effectively deliver the ministry to the homeless
residents of that community with grace and dignity."
Caldwell has designated Rudy Rasmus , a real estate broker and
part-time seminarian, as St. John's coordinator of ministry.
Caldwell attributes St. John's success to the dedication of Rasmus
and his wife, Juanita.
For Rudy Rasmus , guiding activities at St. John's has been
life-altering. "Before, I knew (homeless) problems existed,
but I didn't touch it hands-on," said Rasmus , a second-year
divinity student at the University of St. Thomas. "I kind of
stayed away from it.
"But then I started to see the faces," he said. Some
faces he recognized as those of neighborhood friends with whom he
grew up in Houston. Others he recognized as belonging to clients
and individuals he met through his brokerage business.
"A lot of those (homeless) folks know our church members
and vice versa," Rasmus said.
Just a few paychecks away
The church members also know that they could easily be among
the homeless, Caldwell said.
"One of the things we stress is that a lot of us are only
two or three paychecks away from where the members of the homeless
community are," Caldwell said.
Knowing the homeless personally has shown Rasmus the physical
and spiritual toll of homelessness. Many homeless people will not
attend services because they think they are unwelcome. Intimidated
by fear, shame or poor self-image, many wait until the parking lot
clears before they enter the church for a meal, Rasmus said.
Thomas knows the feeling.
He began attending St. John's 10 months ago when the Rev. Jerry
Stitt was pastor. Stitt, now pastoring in East Texas, sponsored a
feeding program on Sundays. Thomas admits that he volunteered to
cook to have first chance at the food.
When Caldwell took over St. John's last August, Thomas and his
fellow homeless were surprised and suspicious. There was unspoken
tension between the haves and the have-nots.
Rasmus and the church members found a solution: genuine
concern.
"Love is the whole process," he said. "It is
just providing a spot where the homeless know they can be
loved."
"I make it a point to shake every hand there Wednesday and
Sunday," he said. "I also make it a point to hug as many
as I can."
Such warmth and friendliness convinced Thomas and other
homeless people to join.
Concern pays off
Members' and volunteers' concern makes the difference, Rasmus
said. St. John's members wear casual clothes to worship so
homeless people blend in. The 60-member volunteer corps cooks
meals and helps distribute food.
"Our goal has been to literally look out on the
congregation and not tell who has a home and who doesn't,"
Rasmus said. Now some homeless come to the church not for food,
but for affection, he said.
Rasmus and Caldwell take turns leading the services. The
Windsor Village church choir and a regular group of several
congregants travel to the inner city to help St. John's.
Others from Windsor Village have found St. John's a more
convenient worship center and now consider it their home church.
They are people "sensitive to homelessness," Rasmus
said. "A lot of them work downtown and are familiar with
encountering folk who haven't had any place to sleep in the past
week."
Rasmus is excited about the cooperation, since successful
suburban churches often flee or ignore the inner city. Texas
Annual Conference area provost Asbury Lenox said the pairing shows
what happens when a penniless, memberless inner-city church has
access to resources and leadership.
"We feel they are providing a model not only in Texas, but
also for the denomination," Lenox said.
Lewis Jackson, Methodist district superintendent over St.
John's, said the church was on the verge of closing when Windsor
Village volunteered to help.
More important to Rasmus , the effort demonstrates what
successful black churches can do for black community problems.
"Eighty to 90 percent of the people in the street are
black," Rasmus said. "It is an African-American problem.
It only makes sense for African-Americans to come to their
aid."
At St. John's, Rasmus envisions establishing a day center where
homeless people could shower and wash clothes. The church also is
considering drug treatment programs. Volunteers now help run group
self-help sessions.
Thomas wants to be part of the growth at St. John's. He is
helping renovate the church's interior and is eager to be an
example to his former companions on the street.
"We used to get high on the streets together," he
said. "I could think I am better than they are. I am clean
now, my hair is short. But I am no better than they are."