"South Street Ministries: Reaching Out to the Community"

For a great new article about South Street, including lots of cool pictures, go here. Also, for some really interesting demographic information from the City of Akron about the Summit Lake Neighborhood, go here.

Schizophrenia and Stewardship

So Duane said a couple of things in his sermon on Sunday that I'm still thinking about today. He told a story about a guy he knew from the streets who knocked on his door early one morning. This guy is someone that Duane knew to be recovering from drug addiction, and when Duane answered the door the guy seemed really anxious. He said he had a job interview to go to and asked Duane for $2 to help with bus fare. It just so happened that Duane had $5 in his back packet, which was very unusual since he never carried cash. Duane knew that he could give him the $5, which would be just enough to buy some drugs; so he decided not to and would pray for him instead. In his prayer Duane asked God to provide for the guy the money he needed to get to his job interview (if he really had one). Duane then said that God "spoke" to him, but quickly added that it's not as if he heard God's audible voice or anything, because "when we talk to God it's called prayer; when God talks to us it's called schizophrenia" which I appreciated quite a bit. So Duane went on to say that it was as if God said to him, "Well, it's pretty interesting that you would ask me to do by supernatural means what you're unwilling to do naturally." Chastened, Duane realized he needed to give up his $5, even if the guy used it to buy drugs, because Duane knew that in this encounter God was really working on him and his willingness to be a steward of God's money rather than clinging to it like it was his own. Anyway, I really appreciated that story, and wanted to share it with you....

Xenos Looks to Assist with After-School Program

Xenos Christian Fellowship is a relatively new church community in Northeast Ohio. The post below comes from their blog:

On a sunny afternoon in September three members of NeoXenos toured the South Street neighborhood of Akron with Duane Crabbs, founder of South Street Ministries. He’s known by the locals—and all the locals know him—as “the Pastor.”

First, he greeted two kids who were walking home from school. “Do you want to come over and work on your homework?” he asked.

“No, Mr. Crabbs. I gotta help my mom. We’re moving.”

“Oh, man, you’re leaving South Street?” Crabbs followed the kids to the moving truck and listened to them chatter about how many homework assignments they completed. Then he hugged them good-bye.

“They’re probably moving because they can’t pay the rent,” he conjectured as he led the tour around the corner. “Gevonte!” he exclaimed, hugging the boy whom he greeted. “Are you coming over today?” Gevonte said he was.

Before the tour could get any further, an elderly man hailed Crabbs from across the street. “Hey, Pastor, I need a tire for my bike.”

“Okay, c’mon over to the shop and I’ll get you one,” he shouted back.

“How much is it?”

“You know you don’t have to worry about that. Just c’mon over.”

A few steps later, a man approached the group from across the street. “I have a hernia, Pastor. Will you pray for me?”

“Yeah, let’s pray right now.” The group joined hands right there and lifted up the working man’s health to the Lord. Before the group returned to Crabbs’s property, another boy joined them and they met the owner of the corner store.

Since that walking tour eight members of the Michalek home church have visited South Street Ministries’ after school program. The daily schedule includes time for snacks, homework assistance, crafts, Bible teachings and prayer. The kids always receive a bag lunch and sometimes other necessities, such as clothes, coats, hats and gloves.

Mark Michalek describes South Street as a “non-institutional, very relational ministry” that shares many values with Xenos, like discipleship, Bible teachings and indigenous leadership. Although the after school program is structured, the environment is relaxed and allows time to get to know the kids.

The program used to run Monday through Thursday but due to lack of volunteers, they’ve cut back to two days a week. That’s where we come in. If NeoXenos can provide at least three volunteers for Tuesdays and Wednesdays, the program could run four days again.

Sarah Ramsey has faithfully volunteered both days since September. She’s built relationships with the kids and become aware of the program’s needs.

“It would be good if more people could come to the program because the kids get more individual attention that way,” she explained. Many of the children need such attention as they come from extremely broken homes. For example, one boy prayed for his dad who is in jail. Two girls live with their grandma because their mother uses drugs.

Such problems often stem from a generational cycle of poverty. The Bible calls on us to help those in need: “He who oppresses the poor taunts his Maker, but he who is gracious to the needy honors Him” (Proverbs 14:31). While giving financially is a good way to serve, South Street’s after school program has the potential for greater impact. By giving kids the gospel, resources and stable relationships, they are working to break the poverty cycle in their area. They’ve already seen some success as the nearby school has much higher test scores than other Akron City Schools.

Sarah shared a vision for our Body working together at South Street. “When different people volunteer, they bring different strengths and gifts to the program. For example, Sara Dabbagh is better at being silly with the kids than I am,” she said. Sarah has brought her patience and creativity to South Street by rewarding kids who practice and learn math facts.

Others who’ve visited include Mark and Diana Michalek, Leah Zimmerman Craig Smith, Jackie Stuart, and Kalie Brooks. All have shown enthusiasm about the opportunities at South Street. And “the kids are so cute!” Jackie and Diana both gushed.

The kids like the program too. One girl said she likes coming “to get away from home. I like the crafts, homework time, and the Bible stories.” She said she’s learned about God’s character from the teachings. From the kindergarteners to the fifth graders, the children are fun to talk with, quick to open up and very affectionate.

“I really wish more guys would volunteer,” Sarah said. “I think the boys there would like that.” In many of the kids’ homes there is no male influence present, yet the program only sees one man volunteer regularly. It’s clear that the boys feel drawn to him; one boy often whispers something to him that he doesn’t want others to hear.

Mark has been investigating opportunities to serve the poor for over a year and agrees that South Street is the best fit for our fellowship. While the after school program is the only place for us to serve now, Crabbs is open to us getting more involved as we build relationships in the community. “It would be great to start a cell group with some of the older girls there,” Sarah said, sharing one of the many ways we could deepen our involvement in the future.

Another Newspaper Article about South Street...

Pastor sacrifices for ministry. Former firefighter gives up job for inner-city church- from The Record Courier

September 21, 2007

By Mike Hixenbaugh
Record-Courier staff writer

Sometimes the sirens shake him from his sleep. The sound, which most people associate with fire, triggers something entirely different in The Rev. Duane Crabbs.
He can still hear the cries for help, the warm blaze against his skin. When those sirens blare at night, his pulse quickens. After all, the sirens are a part of who he is -- it's in his blood.
While working as a firefighter-paramedic for 13 years, Crabbs climbed the ranks and had become one of Akron's finest by 1999.
But after 13 years, he walked away.
"Yeah, sometimes I miss it," Crabbs says, staring into the distance. "When I hear those sirens, sometimes I wish I could get back on that truck -- wheels rolling, dressed in a hero suit. Yeah, I miss that."
Crabbs pauses. He brings his hand to his mouth, his face beginning to flush. Tears form in his eyes as his voice begins to crack.
"But I do not regret that I gave that up. I gave all that up ... for a more important thing."
Not many people thought it was logical when Crabbs moved his family of six from a comfortable area in West Akron to one of the city's most impoverished neighborhoods 10 years ago. Even fewer supported him when he quit his job two years later.
"It was definitely the right thing, though" Crabbs said.
The decision to move into the Summit Lake neighborhood of south Akron was inspired by an interaction Crabbs had with a young occupant of the city more than 14 years ago. After a short conversation with the boy, Crabbs discovered the child didn't know what the word "wife" meant.
"At that moment, I knew what we had to do," Crabbs said. "I began to see that church, the way we do it, is more about us and our comfort than it is about helping those outside the walls of the church. In that church pew, I began to realize that the only way to have a real impact is to go out and live among them."
After a few years of deliberation, Crabbs, along with his wife Lisa and four children, moved into a house at the heart of the crime-ridden neighborhood.
It took years for the family to fully adjust. Despite the heartache, a ministry formed in the Crabbs home. Bible studies of more than 50 community members became a weekly occurrence. Within two years, the number had doubled to 100.
"And that's when I began to feel burned out," Duane said. "I would come home from long shifts at the fire department and then either work with the ministry or as a father. Soon I realized I wasn't a good dad. I wasn't a good husband. I also wasn't a good paramedic or a very good minister.

"Something had to give, and it wasn't going to be the ministry or my family."
It was a process of elimination. After 13 years, Crabbs quit his dream job and gave up his $50,000 salary, replacing it with nothing.
With a wife and four children, Crabbs did what most would deem completely irresponsible.
"It was irresponsible," Crabbs said. "But my wife supported me, and my community supported me and I knew it was what I had to do. I guess sometimes being irresponsible is exactly what we need to do."
With that relentless faith, Duane and Lisa Crabbs have built South Street Ministries -- an outreach that touches its community through various initiatives, including bar room ministries, an after school program and prison Bible studies.
Crabbs invites anyone interested in seeing church in a new light to visit South Street's Sunday service at noon. The service is held in the Summit Lake Community Center at 380 West Crosier St. in Akron.
"We're a church without walls," Crabbs explained. "Walls confine people. They segregate us. And that's why everything at South Street is so informal. Everyone -- no matter what issues you have -- everyone is welcome."

Transcript of NPR Interview

Below is a transcript of a story on NPR featuring our own Pastor Duane Crabbs:

In every city, there are some neighborhoods that are better off than others. It's usually a matter of politics that determines the future of those areas that struggle, a careful combination of public assistance, taking care of one's own needs, and a community working together toward a common goal. Allio: Poverty is just not on the agenda of our public officials... Tom Allio has been tracking poverty throughout northeast Ohio for years. He's the Executive Director of the Catholic Commission of Summit County and the Social Action Director of the Diocese of Cleveland: Allio: It's not on the agenda of our national government. It's not on the agenda significantly of the candidates running for governor, and it is not a priority as it should be for local public officials at the city or the county level. Roughly 17 percent of Ohioans qualify as impoverished as defined by federal guidelines. In Cleveland, which leads the nation's big cities in poverty, that number is approximately 32 percent. And in Akron, roughly 30 percent of its residents are at or below the poverty level. That's why, says Allio, the role of catholic charities is so crucial to the region: We're the incubator, and what we do in community development is basically we try to bring broad sectors of people together of the best of our community. And we look at what the unmet needs are, particularly as it affects low income families and the individuals, because our work in social justice is particularly to identify ourselves with the poorest and the most vulnerable. Many of the poorest and most vulnerable live here, on the Southside of Akron. It's the third Friday of the month and what you're hearing are the food pantry trucks pulling up to the doors of Open M, a non-profit neighborhood based ministry serving Akron's poorest of the poor. Today, the line of those waiting for groceries from Open M's Mountain of Food program stretches through the parking lot and out to the sidewalk of Princeton Street. Inside the doors of Open M's gymnasium style set-up, tables line the walls, each stacked with everything from apples to potato chips to mouthwash to laundry detergent. Volunteers load the brown and white shopping bags to hand out to the line that now snakes in a very orderly fashion throughout the building. One of those waiting in line is Margaret Riddle, standing 5 foot 3, in black shorts, a red oversized shirt, no teeth but wearing a very gentile smile: Riddle: A lot of times, I can't get food and stuff and this helps me and I go wherever else I can....I got all kind of problems. I got MS. I've had it for 30 years. I got high blood pressure. You name it I got it. Margaret not only takes advantage of the food being distributed today, she is also a patient of the Free Clinic that Open M offers in the same building and is taking classes at Open M's library. Dottie Achmoody is Open M's Chief Executive Officer: Achmoody: The mountain of food we've been doing, I think, for a couple of years. But in terms of Open M and us being here, it's been since 1968 we've been serving the community in one way or another. And we have other things within our food pantry. We give emergency food assistance and then we also do hot meals. We also serve hot meals the last two weeks of each month.... Anyone can show up for the meals, and very little is asked to prove eligibility. However, Bobbie Boyer, Open M's food service manager, says everyone does need to sign in when arrive: Boyer: Before last month, we had over 800 names in the computer, I put all of this in the computer, and of that 800, only 130...140 had come before and signed up...were repeats. We had over 120 new people. So, I have over 900 names in the computer right now... While Open M and its team of volunteers feed, provide medical services and day care for the neighborhood's poor, another faith-based organization around the corner in Akron's Summit Lake neighborhood works to keep kids off the streets. Mike Starks is the Community Organizer for the Summit Lake Neighborhood Association. He's a former heroin addict and is now a lay minister for at-risk youths: Starks: I was born here, but I wasn't raised here. But I come back here because I feel the call in my heart to try and do something to help the people in the community. It's a good community, but over a period of time, as a result of being overlooked by the city planners and developers, and no form of economic development coming into this area, I believe, and I could be wrong, but my perspective is that there's developed somewhat a sense off apathy in the community. Open M and the Summit Lake Neighborhood Association work together to provide for the area's needs. Each also works with Pastor Duane Crabbs, of South Street Ministries. Saving lives is nothing new for Reverend Crabbs. He spent 13 years as a firefighter with the cities of Cuyahoga Falls and Akron. He was ordained in 1997 and refers to his ministry as a "church without walls.": Crabbs: Not too long ago when I was at this one bar, I go into a bar, and when I come in they know right away to serve me coffee and it's a biker bar and there's a few iron workers there and when I got ready to leave, the barmaid she had one of those remote controls to turn off the juke box and there were a few people talking so she told everyone 'alright everyone, shut the hell up, the preacher's getting ready to leave, I want him to pray for this place.' It's the kind of work that Reverend Crabbs has been doing since he moved into this neighborhood 10 years ago. He and his family bought a home that was about to be condemned and demolished and turned it into a place where worship takes place and kids have a meaningful place to hang out. On his property, there's a building that houses a weight room for the older kids, and a bike shop for the younger ones. Old, beaten up bikes are donated to Reverend Crabbs. In turn, the kids who would otherwise find themselves hanging out on the streets, come here to repair and customize the bikes and then keep them. Reverend Crabbs compares his program to Habitat for Humanity, but on a smaller scale for children. A few years ago, President Bush allowed federal funds to be allocated to faith-based organizations, testing the notion of the separation of church and state. However, Catholic Charities had already been receiving some federal grants, and Open M, South Street Ministries and the Summit Lake Neighborhood Association are operating mostly on community donations and volunteerism. Without it, neighborhoods like those found on Akron's south side would be lost, perhaps both literally and spiritually. Crabbs: Ronald Reagan once quipped, we fought the war on poverty and poverty won. But I kind of prefer what G.K. Chesterton once said Christianity has not been tried and found wanting, it's been found difficult and left untried. And I really think an honest war on poverty has not happened and for it to happen, it requires first of all the involvement of the poor in partnership with the community of resource. I'm Dave Pignanelli, 89.7 WKSU.

REDEMPTIVE INK - News

As you may know, Righteous Ink is a ministry/business that South Street is proud to support. Click on the link below to go to an article in the University of Akron's "Buchtelite" about the great work Jody is doing, or you can just read it here, as I've copied the article below the link.

REDEMPTIVE INK - News

Media Credit: Kevin Curwin Akron native, Jody Boring puts the finishing touches on a tattoo. Boring, 33, opened his shop, Righteous Ink in December after several years spent in and out of prison. Boring hopes to use his story of recovery to help local teens overcome poverty and addiction. [Click to enlarge]

Jody Boring stands in the middle of a gymnasium as a group of inner-city boys laugh and chatter among themselves. Boring - a wide-framed man of average height - stands alone at the front of the crowd - his arms blanketed with tattoos. With the gym lights glowing on him, Boring feels his nerves begin to jitter.

He's not used to talking in front of crowds.

The noise emanating from the large group is only making it worse.

"Hey, what's up with that tattoo under your eye?" one of the boys shouts.

Boring pauses and looks down, contemplating how to answer. His head rises after a few a seconds.

"It means that I killed a man."

The room grows silent. The loud joking and teasing ends. Boring speaks the truth.

Boring connects with the kids in a way most mentors cannot. He was raised in the same environment and went through the same hardships.

When he was growing up, the 33-year-old Akron native walked the same streets as most of the boys he wants so desperately to help.

Today, Boring is the owner of Righteous Ink, a tattoo parlor he opened on Waterloo Road in South Akron in December. Business has been steady for him. It's not like most tattoo shops, though.

Deep ink

Boring learned the art of tattooing during a stint in prison. He had always been fascinated by the art as a young boy, but fell in love with it in the joint, he said.

Years of struggling with addiction and violence stood between Boring and the day he opened his shop. Struggling through his past is what inspired him to pursue the dream.

"It's called Righteous Ink - where the experience is deeper than the ink," Boring explained with a smile. "This place isn't just about tattoos. There's more to it."

Boring opens his shop freely to neighborhood kids who hang around. A lot of them are known for causing trouble. His landlord and neighbors don't seem to like it much, Boring said.

Yet, he still reaches out, shows them respect and tries to have a positive impact on their lives.

"I can relate to these kids," Boring said. "If I don't show them a better path than the one they're on, then who's going to?"

As a result of his kindness, the teenagers in the neighborhood have been nothing but respectful to Boring and his establishment. Opening his shop to inner-city teens allows Boring to connect with them and be a role model.

"They've grown up in an environment where they see that it is cool to do wrong," Boring explained. "But in my shop, they see it's cool to do good."

At Righteous Ink, there is no swearing. It's the first of several rules posted at the shop. Boring also doesn't allow alcohol or drugs to be brought onto his property. When a close friend tried using drugs in his parking lot, Boring stuck to the rules. His buddy is no longer permitted to enter the shop.

Every morning before they open up, Boring and employees Jeff Connor and David Bard (both recovering drug addicts) pray together and read from the book of Proverbs. The staff members at Righteous Ink treat each other more like family than like coworkers.

"We're all recovering addicts here," Boring said. "But this shop is built on the principle of a redemptive love."

Less than a decade ago, Boring wasn't sure if he knew what love was.

Street life

Boring grew up with a truck driver father and violent mother.

"My dad was gone all the time … and my mom, as a result of her upbringing, was abusive," Boring said. "My mom would whip us with doubled-over cable cord when she was upset. It would split you wide open.

"I learned to hold the pain inside. I didn't cry for about 10 years after that."

By the time Boring finished grade school, he had become rebellious and hostile, growing violent by the time he finished sixth grade. At the same time, he began experimenting with cigarettes, marijuana and beer. Not long after, huffing gasoline became his first steady addiction.

"Violence, sex and drugs became who I was," Boring explained.

Boring was consistently running away from the violence he called home by the time he was 13. At 14, he stopped going home - staying with friends and moving from place to place, sometimes committing robberies to gain leverage for a place to stay.

He liked "living free." As he grew older, he continued to enjoy and explore his freedom.

At 17, exploring that freedom earned Boring a juvenile life sentence. However, he was released shortly after he turned 18.

Less than a year later, he was looking at 25 to 50 years for rape and felonious assault. The woman next door had invited him over, but after he walked in, she changed her mind.

"Who I was at the time," Boring said, then paused. "I wasn't going to take no for an answer. I had already made up mind.

"It's who I was."

But that was all about to change.

Road to rebirth

During Boring's first day in Summit County Jail, while waiting for trial, Boring said he was approached by seven different men and each delivered the same bizarre message: "God loves you and is concerned about you."

"After the first guy, my appointed attorney, said it, I was mad," Boring said. "Then another guy I didn't know came up and said the same thing: 'I think God wants you to know he is concerned about you.'

"I told him I wasn't trying to hear that."

But Boring continued to hear it for the rest of the day. A third man approached him with the same message - then a fourth and a fifth.

"After the fifth guy, I started to get creeped out. My hair was standing up on my back."

Then two more came. Eventually, Boring accepted the message.

That day, Boring said he became a Christian. He had no idea exactly what it meant, but he couldn't deny what he had experienced. The decision didn't instantly make Boring a better person, though. He was in and out of prison for several years afterward.

But the decision ignited the start of a transformation, Boring said.

Making sense of it

Throughout his prison years, Boring studied scripture continuously. The scripture got under his skin - it changed him, he said. Boring fell in love with the principles of compassion and forgiveness, which he said are important to his beliefs.

When he got out, he had two main concerns - to provide for his family and to support himself without returning to a life of crime.

Boring's pathway to living a life of legitimacy has been a long one, but he has had help along the way. When he returned to his old neighborhood, Boring found help in a new church - South Street Ministries.

Duane Crabbs, Boring's pastor, met him five years ago in CFCF, a correctional center where Crabbs conducts a weekly bible study.

Boring connected with Crabbs very quickly.

"People don't need to hear sermons, they need to see them," Crabbs said.

Boring provides this sermon, and he is an example to people caught in the criminal underworld, Crabbs said.

"Traditionally, people caught in the underworld don't see a pathway to legitimacy. Jody is a model of that path."

Boring turned from his former lifestyle, but chose to return to his same friends and neighborhood. He wasn't about to abandon them.

"He lives in that world, but he's not of it," Crabbs explained.

And that's the principle behind Righteous Ink. A lot of people might be turned off by the markings that cover Boring's body. They might turn away when they learn of his violent and abusive past. But the people who need to hear his message the most - recovering addicts, abused kids from the street, violent angry teenagers - are attracted to Boring's shop.

"That's who I'm able to reach."

As Boring delivered his message to the gymnasium full of rowdy teens, they sat quietly and listened respectfully. They saw a man who had struggled through poverty and yet was an encouraging influence.

When someone shows up to get a tattoo at Righteous Ink, Boring tries to be that influence.

After all is said and done, the experience is deeper than the ink.