Flint: Baptized in fire and water (sorta)

Warning: any attempts at humor in this post that offend folks' sensibility or their tendency to glamorize ministry “to the poor” are meant not to offend, but to be taken as a really poor attempt at pointing out unfortunate truths in a society that claims to be Christian. I hope you might giggle a little, but I would rather you just shake your head at the potential truth of my over-the-top inappropriateness.

It gets a little tough trying to write about Flint, because the experiences of living in such a city – without water, jobs, or much truth being told – wears down the people who were at first intrigued but are now looking for other, more exciting disasters to argue about. I like to share stories of my old neighborhood. I like to talk about how people are coming together and working hard to get water to the folks whose needs are not being met by the agencies that created this mess. I like to talk about working with the neighborhood kids and interacting with Christians who worship a lot differently than the Brethren and Quakers that I am so fond of.

I don't like to talk about how it is really all about more money and more volunteers when people interpret that as nothing more than a call for more money and more volunteers. So, this week's stories are meant to share a little bit of the conversation that occurs with folks who come by the church to get water, diapers, food, and other information. I'll start with a story I'll call “Section 8 problem solving.”

The story begins with a car driving up to the church and notifying a neighbor that a robbery may or may not have occurred at their home on the north end of Flint.

“Your neighbor called me a minute ago – she said your daughter is stealing your fridge.”

“Why would she take my ice box?”

“You had better call the neighbor. She wants to call the police.”

So, phone calls were placed, questions were asked, and legitimate answers were immediately forthcoming. It seems a Section 8 housing inspection was occurring that day, and a new home will not pass inspection for funding if there is no working refrigerator in the home. So, the neighbor's daughter went to his house to use his “ice box” for a few hours to pass the inspection. When I dropped the man at home at 8:30 that evening, the fridge was back in its place, no worse for wear.

But, the best conversation in the history of ever happened as us volunteers were waiting around the church waiting for water to be delivered for distribution. During some light bantering, it was mentioned that someone tried to set a whole parking lot full of bottled water on fire. That's right, somebody tried to commit arson by setting water on fire. And they succeeded. At least a few pallets burst into flames. Last Friday, while representatives of the Obama administration were at a Flint church discussing water distribution, and with distribution of water happening at the same time, church volunteers went to the back parking lot of the church where the water was being stored and found a few pallets of bottled water were burning. Cleveland, eat your heart out.

No real damage was done, certainly nobody was injured, and when the police and fire personnel investigated, they indeed stated that the fire was unquestionably the result of an attempted arson, and not spontaneously combustible water products. Of course, even though the burning bottles were filled with water, volunteers attempted to put out the flames with, you guessed it, bottled water – 20 ounces at a time.

Also, I need to fess us about some problem solving of my own. Somebody tried to break into the church last week, and I was tasked with boarding up the window, naturally, with “very” limited financial resources. After a thorough search of the church I ended up finding a piece of board, of all places, in the baptistery. Why is there perfectly good board being stored near the Brethren baptistery? I was immediately concerned for the heretics that might wander into the church, and removed the baptismal water-board.

Of course, there was a lot of arts and crafts stuff back there, and I figured the big piece of board was probably for a new felt-board for the Sunday School. Someday, Mary Hammond is going to find that formerly perfect piece of board with a large corner cut out of it, and her plans for the world's best felt-board will be foiled by the handyman who had zero carpentry experience and a misguided passion for heretics.