MCKEES ROCKS, Pa. (BRN) – I recognized the woman at the bus stop near the grocery store in the next town. It’s the closest full-service supermarket, so lots of folks from McKees Rocks use it. I knew she lived up the street from Faithbridge’s Worship Center, so I offered her a ride. After some hesitation, she took it.

We got her bags in my little car and got rolling, exchanging some pleasantries before falling into a few moments of silence. Eventually she cleared her throat and said, “Pastor, I know you know I visited your church and haven’t been back.”

I smiled. “Yes, I remember you coming with Ms. Bobbi.”

“I did, and I really enjoyed the music and your message,” she said. “But I won’t be back.”

I glanced at her and said “Oh. Why not?”

“It might sound silly, but their are too many McKees Rocks people there,” she said, which, frankly did sound a bit silly – we’re located just about dead center in the town of McKees Rocks.

“I’m sorry,” she continued, “but I just can’t deal with all these people. I don’t want to have to worry about leaving my purse on my seat if I go talk to someone a couple of rows up at church. These people are messed up.”

“Yes, I see the problem,” I said. “You should find another church if McKees Rocks people bother you that much, because we’re always gonna be full of ‘em. Heck, I’m a ‘McKees Rocks’ person.”

As I pulled up outside her house, she said, “You’re not really a ‘McKees Rocks’ person, Pastor, not the way I mean it anyway.”

“Oh, but I am,” I said, pulling her bags from the back. “I was raised here, I learned every bad behavior you don’t like, and did ‘em. I’m no different than anyone else but for God rescuing me… that’s why we’ll always be filled with McKees Rocks people. Because I know what God can do. Some folks need rescued from drugs, some from anger issues, some from thinkin’ of themselves too highly… but whatever it is, it’s really just sin, and Jesus is the cure.”

I could tell from the look on her face that my not-so-subtle statement wasn’t lost on her, but she thanked me for the ride and went into her house.

I sat in the car for a few moments thinking about the conversation, knowing that some folks have left Faithbridge for exactly that reason before. Heck, the last church in our building left because no one but the pastor and his wife wanted to reach the people in this town, and the few folks they did reach felt that all the time.

I’ve had to come to my own peace with this being a tough place, and with some folks not wanting to come alongside our ministry because of a somewhat unformed thought under the surface of their thinking that “those types” are somehow less worthy of the effort, of having a church, maybe even of having Jesus.

Some will balk at that, but I know of major Christian leaders who’ve verbalized such thoughts, one telling a young church planter – a young man on fire to serve in his call to follow a homeless Savior who bounced around the Holy Land 2000 years ago – to quit wasting his time trying to minister to the homeless because “you can’t build a church out of those folks.”

After a short while, I said a quick prayer that my neighbor would find a church where she’ll be comfortable, started the car and pulled away.