The Drug War Next Door

The church can use its spiritual arsenal to reclaim people and neighborhoods.

President Bush declared war against South American drug cartels and North American dealers last month, and he asked all of us to join the battle. And though it makes us nervous when our commander in chief rattles the saber when asked about military intervention in drug-producing nations, we believe his multibillion-dollar antidrug strategy rightly focuses on programs within our own borders. We are the ones, as Colombian President Barcos points out, who provide his country with such a lucrative market. Prevention, treatment, and a strong-willed criminal-justice system—not “surgical” raids in South America—are the best answers to our drug problem.

Does the church have a role in this battle? We believe it does; but the war Christians are best at is an assault of goodness—a full-fledged wave of love, compassion, and rehabilitation that helps make drug use unattractive. The first strike must target our nation’s seemingly insatiable appetite for Colombia’s leading export. Without succumbing to the temptation to reduce all aspects of this complex problem to the simple need for evangelism, let us remember how good gospel proclamation can be for a culture that seems bent on self-destruction. People who are spiritually nourished and have reason to hope generally do not use drugs. Starting with our own families, we must more actively and winsomely make disciples.

Hand-To-Hand Combat?

The second strike calls for a rolled-up-sleeves approach—individuals and churches taking to the streets in action that sends a clear signal to drug dealers: not in this neighborhood. One flank will apply public pressure, as did Chicago priest George Clements who led a successful campaign against the sale of drug paraphernalia in his neighborhood. Or Maria Hernandez, the Brooklyn housewife who literally chased drug dealers from her neighborhood. These individuals, and many like them, have bravely confronted “the drug problem” with more than words.

Another flank of this attack on drugs relies heavily on investments of time, money, and energy to combat directly the allure—and subsequent ruin—of drugs. For example, in April, members of the Third Shiloh Missionary Baptist Church in New Orleans bought several abandoned buildings in the neighborhood that had been taken over by crack dealers. The church is renovating the properties into low-income housing and plans to build a home for the elderly nearby. Third Shiloh is paying for its antidrug efforts with money that had been raised over a period of two decades for a new church building. Church members said it was more important to help heal their community than to have a new building.

Or consider the 80 local churches in Washington, D.C., who have banded together to launch a citywide network of drug-counseling services. To them, being salt and light requires something beyond a sermon and strong talk. It involves a risky commitment to people who need to be picked up, handed back their dignity, and given a reason to live without drugs.

As in any war, there will be casualties. Mrs. Hernandez was eventually killed by drug dealers, Father Clements has received death threats, and members of Third Shiloh are still crammed into an older worship facility.

But then, if our faith means anything, it means being willing to lay down our lives for another. We believe this is the kind of war Christians should fight.

By Lyn Cryderman.

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