Leadership Journal

Our church stands half a block from the law school of the University of Cincinnati. Our neighborhood has the lowest percentage (10-15%) of owner-occupied homes in all of Cincinnati. We have single parents and Ph.D.'s and students and the homeless. If there's a loud party going on at 1 a.m. and someone calls the police, the police say, "Why did you move in there?"

Our mission is to share the love of Jesus in Uptown Cincinnati and to develop lifelong kingdom leaders.

The Bible text that's moved me recently is Ezekiel 47, which re-imagines the temple. What is measured is not what happens in the building but the river flowing out of it—what is produced by the people and presence of God. Where there used to be death, there's now life; people are fishing in the Dead Sea. I saw that as a metaphor for our church and the impact we could have on the two or three blocks around our congregation.

My first year at University Christian Church, an artist in the church said, "I've never felt that artists were validated by the church. Let's start a coffeehouse, once a month in the church basement, and make it more committed to quality art than in trying to make art palatable to Christians." Our basement was dumpy, but once a month we would fill it with couches and candles and people.

In 2000, six years later, the founders had moved, and the monthly cafe was struggling. Then a grad student wrote what we call The Coffeehouse Manifesto, a vision for a seven-days-a-week space for the community. By then we needed to do major renovations of our facility, so we decided, "Let's make space on our first floor for a café—not for us but for the community—and if it bombs, it bombs." Rohs Street café (www.rohsstreetcafe.com) opened in 2003, the first all-fair-trade coffeehouse in Cincinnati.

We started at 15 hours a week, and now, most days, we're open from 7 a.m. to midnight, led by a manager and five or six baristas, all part-time. Two of our baristas were in a national competition this year; one finished in the top 20.

We wanted to be part of the community. Like most churches, our building was used maybe 10 hours a week; it was locked most of the time. We said, "Let's be a welcoming place, a place where people experience love and grace, whether they're wealthy or homeless, educated or street people." A look at the books in the café—mostly dealing with justice issues—shows it's a Christian place, but not one with a narrow agenda. We have singer-songwriters, comedians, and other events; the independent newspaper listed us as one of the best places to listen to jazz in the city.

In addition, our church is now a place where the community meets: council subcommittees, the Clifton Heights Improvement Association, the Citizens on Patrol, and an AA group.

Our café has led us to get involved with fair-trade issues. We have a relationship with a village in Guatemala called Santa Maria de Jesus. We visited and realized, "Some of the best coffee in the world is grown here, but the farmers are getting exploited." So we're three years into building a co-op.

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