Meeting Suburbia’s Hidden Needs

As a 16-year-old new Christian, Chris Ellerman was suddenly struck by the messy appearance of his church’s yard. Without saying a word, the teenager volunteered to put the place in order; and it would never be messy again.

“If I see a problem,” says social worker Chris Ellerman, “I ask myself, ‘What can I do?’ ”

The yard that Ellerman looks after now is a bit larger, but his motivation remains the same: “If I see a problem, I ask myself, ‘What can I do?’ ”

On a typical day, the gentle-spirited father of four can be seen canvassing the grounds of the Outreach Community Center of Carol Stream, a bright, white structure in a low-income neighborhood, an island surrounded by pricey subdivisions, upscale malls, and business offices.

“This is what it’s all about,” declares a pleased, but far from satisfied, Ellerman as he looks at the glistening building, the fruition of years of fund-raising and of educating suburbanites on the hidden needs in their own backyard.

Ellerman’s passion for helping others is custom fit for championing these suburban Chicago needy. He seems comfortable amid the paradox of sparkling executive office buildings and nearby federally supported housing.

He speaks both suburbanese and the language of the downtrodden fluently. This is why he has the admiration of his peers and the 1992 Illinois Social Worker of the Year award.

But Ellerman’s message to his suburban constituents is deeper than just doing social work. Unlike some of his secular counterparts, he asserts that “every person deserves the opportunity to be all that God intended them to be. We work with the conviction that God wants to change people’s lives.”

The hidden mission field

If you were to ride around town with Ellerman, the executive director of Outreach Community Ministries, Inc., which is the parent organization for the community center, you would drive past shopping malls and new homes filled with upwardly mobile inhabitants. It would be easy to miss the human problems lying between the office buildings and the fast-food restaurants.

But turn east onto Gundersen Drive, just past the Denny’s, and you suddenly enter a world more akin to Chicago’s housing projects than the $150,000 condos with a golf course that exist just a mile up the road.

Ironically, some of the leading ministries of the evangelical world, whose reach extends across the country and the world, are just down the street, including Tyndale House Publishers, Greater Europe Mission, Christianity Today, Inc., and others.

The neighborhood sits like a chunk of inner-city concrete hurled onto the manicured greens of suburbia. Poverty surrounded by affluence. The ethnic variety of this small neighborhood is a study in contrasts with Blacks and Hispanics present in addition to Asians, Indians, and Muslims, some of whose women adhere to their religion’s strict codes by wearing the traditional chador garment.

“The suburbs are becoming full of families who have migrated from the city to find jobs,” Ellerman says. “But many of them still have the same needs as inner-city families.” The sound of gunfire is not unusual. The police are familiar visitors to the area. Many have said that South Carol Stream was a slum in the making.

However, with Ellerman at the helm, a small band of visionaries, determined not to let another slum take root, have stepped in. A native of Vancouver, British Columbia, Ellerman has learned that “you don’t need to have blatant poverty to do social work. Sometimes the needs are hidden, but they’re still there.”

Daring to dream

The evenly spread stubble of his beard and his adventurous approach to his job make Ellerman look and act more like Hollywood’s Indiana Jones than a social worker-administrator. In a matter of years, Ellerman has rallied Christian business leaders and churches to wage a counteroffensive on hidden poverty.

Today, in the midst of one- and two-bedroom apartment dwellings that house hundreds of low-income families, single mothers, immigrants, and elderly tenants, sits this structure that could easily be a law office or brokerage firm if it were anyplace else.

Upon entering the building’s shiny, double glass doors, one is greeted with the buzz and clamor of children’s voices, bouncing balls, running feet, and busy youth counselors. Ellerman looks around and comments, “It’s long-term holistic ministry, rooted in the community and supported by local churches.”

Over in the daycare center, Lydia, a single mother of three, has come to pick up her children. She is thankful that they now have a safe place to go after school while she is still working. The harshness of the struggle is apparent in her soft eyes. She says, ‘They’re helping my kids do better in school. I think they really care about the people around here.”

At the heart of the center’s activities lie its youth programs, which include weekly tutoring, summer day camps, and a Saturday morning rendition of Sunday school for kids who might never enter a church building.

A simple look at the kids who frequent the programs underscores the center’s effectiveness. Armed with his book bag and a spirit of anticipation, Jason Madlock dashes through the open doors of the community center. For many ten-year-olds, 3:30 P.M. means watching “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” or “Brady Bunch” reruns. But for Jason and his friends, it means an afternoon of fun and learning in the after-school program.

“I like doing math,” Jason says, “but gym time is my favorite.” Gym time happens in a half-completed gymnasium that stands as the focal point of the building. While the center’s programs are in full force, the building itself is not fully completed. About one-fourth of the project’s $2 million price tag remains to be raised.

Raising the funds to complete the structure occupies a major part of Ellerman’s energy. His office is cluttered with stacks of papers, books, and binders. Over the years, he has passed many of his counseling and primary care duties on to others. Yet management and fundraising responsibilities continue to stretch him.

Ellerman has nurtured relationships with local churches and business leaders. Volunteer Scott West got involved in a center program that matches struggling families with a supportive family from local congregations. “I work for an investment office, so I don’t run into a lot of poor individuals,” West admits. “It’s been a privilege for my family and me to step out of our insulated world and touch their lives.”

David Helm is an assistant pastor at a local church. He says the center is doing more than just touching physical needs. “I’ve seen kids trust Christ through this ministry. And I’m seeing people from my church growing in their faith because of it.”

Ellerman’s convictions began in his own home. He and his wife, Carlene, maintain a basement apartment for struggling families or individuals.

In addition, the Ellermans have próvided a foster home to some 60 children. He remembers one foster son, who is now 29, who was eventually sent to a state reform school.

Three years ago, fresh out of prison and with a new-found faith in Jesus Christ, the young man returned to the Ellermans’ home.

“It was Mother’s Day, and he came back to thank Carlene for being the only mother he ever knew. Our one year with him seemed like a failure, but God was working. Those are the things that inspire us to keep going.”

And that’s good, because there is a big yard in South Carol Stream that needs constant tending.

By Edward Gilbreath.

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