In my community there is a corner shop on… well every corner. If not quite every corner at least at the top or bottom of most streets there is a corner shop. They stay open late. They know your name. You know where to get your bread, milk, cigarettes or 2 litre coke. For some of them they have been in the area for generations, like the famous Mr Parkers on Roodebloem Road. For us, though, Mrs Cassiem’s house shop is our local. She knows my boys and they will run from our door all the way to her house before I have even gotten half way there. We normally chat about the weather, her plans to extend her shop, how big the boys are getting and lately she has even given us some good health care advice.
I cannot help but wonder if the church was more like a corner shop than the large franchise store in the main street. What if on every street there was a place where people knew Jesus followers lived? A place where they could find rest, help or prayer. A place where people laughed, cried, ate together and shared life. A place where kids were welcome. A place where people knew they were loved. A place where people knew they could go when they were desperate, when they had blown it or when they needed help. What if throughout the east city area there existed scattered communities of light and of life and of hope? What if on every street a home like this existed? What if more of us intentionally chose to be move in and to share our lives in order to be these kind of people?