Seeing the Gospel in the Ghetto
The dilapidated houses sit quietly abandoned amidst rotting wood, piles of coke bottles, outdated newspapers, and starving cats. What was once a thriving community is now just yards of trash littered on dead grass.
Not far from there is a corner with beautiful women in short skirts waiting for their next clients.
A few blocks down is a corner store with chipped paint and a leaky roof. The owner is a kind man who greets his customers by name. He’s been around as long as the run-down homes, but his restorative spirit is refreshing in the bleak surroundings.
Even further down the street is a Pepto-Bismol pink, two-story building that was once notorious for some of the most dangerous gang violence in Atlanta.
This is my neighborhood.
SEEING THE FALL IN CREATION
I grew up in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. The homes were cookie-cutter with freshly manicured lawns and meticulously decorated exteriors during the holidays. My neighbors appeared as put together as their homes.
Today, when I go for walks with my newborn son, I can’t help but notice the contrast to the ghetto where my family resides. I can’t go far without being reminded of the fall. When humans don’t obey the cultural mandate to “fill the earth and subdue it” (Gen. 1:28), things fall apart. After sin entered the world in Genesis 3, its effects were pervasive. Mankind and creation were marred and in need of restoration outside of ourselves.
Where life and vitality once reigned, death and decay have been substituted into our world, and with it, a temporal nature to all things. If we don’t brush our teeth, they rot. If we don’t mow the grass, it grows into an unruly jungle. If we don’t clean up trash, the land decays. Everything requires ongoing care or it falls apart—even you.
When I see this decay around me, I know it was not supposed to be this way. I long for something greater, something restorative . . . something complete.
Like us, creation is eagerly longing for the redemption of God’s people and Christ’s return. She too sees something is terribly wrong.
“For the creation eagerly waits with anticipation for God’s sons to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to futility—not willingly, but because of him who subjected it—in the hope that the creation itself will also be set free from the bondage to decay into the glorious freedom of God’s children” (Rom. 8:19-21).
When I go for walks, I’m reminded that this is not our permanent home. We’re merely and swiftly passing through. I see with a bit more clarity that something better is coming. Our best days are ahead.
SEEING THE FALL IN PEOPLE
This brokenness we must endure as we wait for what’s to come reaches far beyond the broken beauty of an aesthetically pleasing home. It has corrupted the very people meant to cultivate and maintain the world around us.
We walk by drugs being secretly exchanged through jittery hands and women slipping into cars from their corner, and it’s evident that darkness is prevalent in their hearts and in the broken system that keeps them here. We don’t know exactly what’s going on in their lives, but it’s clear that “out of people’s hearts, come evil thoughts, sexual immoralities, thefts, murders, adulteries, greed, evil actions, deceit, self-indulgence, envy, slander, pride, and foolishness” (Mark 7:21-22).
And it's not just them. As my own heart swells with prideful thoughts, I remember “there is certainly no one righteous on the earth who does good and never sins” (Eccl. 7:20), including me. Our sins look different, but they are there all the same. Before Christ, we are all humbly on equal ground.
I see the homeless person trailing his shopping cart behind him and the guy beatboxing on his imagined stage, and I think to myself, We’re all equally in need of restoration in our hearts.
But just when it feels hopeless, the Lord shows signs of hope, signs of redemption.
SEEING REDEMPTION
We pass intricate murals honoring culture and music, and I marvel at the beauty humans can create, even in a broken world. Humanity’s creativity reminds me of God’s creativity displayed in the created order.
As we arrive home, my neighbor crosses the street to catch up and bring diapers and a meal. Her generosity resembles God’s kindness to not neglect the simple gift of presence. Our neighbor’s dog, Snoopy, enjoys the simple comforts of tanning in the sun. Even he unknowingly enjoys the common grace of the sunlight’s heat on a cool evening. These pull me back to the beauty in the brokenness.
It's a representation of our lives—beauty and hope in Christ, surrounded by trauma and sadness. It’s a long road home.
The ghetto and the suburbs are equally broken. Both have been marred by the fall, even though one is more outwardly displayed than the other. This is the gift my neighborhood gives me.
WHEN THE GOSPEL OVERCOMES THE GHETTO
On something as common as a walk, I’m reminded of the gospel—mankind and creation’s brokenness, the hope for the restoration of a Redeemer, and the fulfillment of that promise in Jesus.
One day, I will walk through the redeemed and restored version of my neighborhood. The homes will be replenished, the people wholly restored, and the King of Kings ruling it all. That will be a good day.
SharDavia “Shar” Walker lives in Atlanta, GA with her husband and son. She serves as the Senior Writer for the North American Mission Board (NAMB). Shar is a writer and a speaker and is currently pursuing an M.A. in Christian Studies at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. You can find more of her work at www.sharwalker.com.