The other night, my friend Ron Melansson and I were hanging at Montréal's Café Ludovic. We had cut our monthly “prayer walking” in the gay village a little short because the thermometer of our wind-chapped faces was registering about -20 Celsius.  The Ludovic is a smoke-filled, quirky little second-story coffee shop that overlooks the Université du Québec à Montréal (UQAM).  I don't know why we put up with the smoke in the Ludovic.  It's definitely not because of the coffee.  I suppose it's the lively bohemian-type crowd of Montréalais, just the kind of people Ron and I think Jesus would have enjoyed hanging out with.  I should probably tell you that Ron does street ministry in this unique city through Youth for Christ. I'm not exactly sure what he does every day; but every time I'm with him on the streets, he introduces me to some dope head, prostitute or homeless guy every couple of blocks. Evidently Ron spends a lot of his time developing relationships with these guys. Occasionally they have a coffee together, talk and sometimes connect on the spiritual plane.  As for me, my family and I are having fun as we help a new church emerge among the urban/arts community of Montréal.

Well, back to the Café Ludovic... we were lucky on such a bitterly cold night to get the table right next to the cast-iron wood stove. With a cup of mediocre coffee in my hand and my boots next to the stove, I listened as Ron went on about his latest "insight" into this Christianity-thing that we are both still trying to figure out. (Yes, like many of you we are in the process of dismantling the faith that we've inherited to see what it is really made of --- a lot like I used to do to my '63 Volvo 122S.) Once my feet started to thaw, I realized that Ron had mentioned the phrase "peace and justice" about 10 times and that I really wasn't listening. After a few more sips of my expresso allongé, my mind began to tune into the importance of Ron's thoughts. "What if", Ron said, "it all boils down to peace and justice?" I managed to get out a "hummm!"  Ron went on with "...if you were to take peace and justice out of the Bible you would have this huge gaping hole.... And so what if it was a whole lot more important to God than we have previously thought?" At this point my mind started to feel a tug toward this peace and justice vortex. My eyes started going into that routine like I was staring at a hidden 3D image trying to bring it into focus. Ron continued the theme and went on to mention how this would require "vulnerability" - the word that haunted his Christmas season this year.

So there I sat, zoned out and daydreaming about peace and justice, half-way listening to Ron, half-way overhearing the conversation in French from the neighboring table which was just a bit too close to our own. I was beginning to wonder what they were thinking about our strange conversation. That's when I fell down the rabbit hole! Whoa! What if the evangelical community was known for an obsession with peace and justice issues from the individual person to the global arena? What if the people that live around us heard and saw mainly peace and justice from us instead of all the other things we dump on them?  What if our involvement in peace and justice attracted people to God because it so reflects his personality? (Sorry for all the "what if" phrases, but that's what dreams are made of.)

Then, thanks to Ron's ability to carry on an amazing conversation encouraged only by my occasional "hmmm!", my mind experienced a complete free fall into the "peace and justice wonderland". It's a place where a totally radical evangelical sub-culture, much different than the one that has so often irritated my spirit.

Things are a bit fuzzy at first, but I begin to imagine a world where Jimmy Carter no longer gets any publicity for his nail-banging involvement with Habitat for Humanity nor for his global adventures insuring the fairness of democratic elections because, "...well quite frankly, most famous Christians are doing this sort of thing now and much more", as a journalist friend explains to me its lack of newsworthiness. "I don't know what planet you've been on," he continues, "but the whole human rights movement is fueled by the Christian community. Yeah, it's pretty much a global thing too, not just North American, which is a really good sign."

I drop in the office of the nearby church and see the youth pastor in his office scrambling to find the right peace and justice trip for their youth group next summer. He mentions rather excitedly while quickly leaving the office that he has just found a rundown refugee center with some needs the youth can help with. I turn to the right and there is a large sign on the bulletin board announcing the next Peace and Justice Training Clinic with a special practical workshop on how to be a "block peacemaker" in your own neighborhood.  Back out in the hallway, I can't help but notice the rather tacky display where lights proudly proclaim 85% completion of funds for the church's new low-income housing project including enough money for the support staff that will provide an array of programs for the residents.

As Sunday approaches in this wonderland, I choose to worship at a neighboring church and it all seems as if it is rather typical. The newly composed song based on Deuteronomy 10:17-19 gives this service a fresh feel. There are your basic testimonies of multiple volunteers returning from an African country devastated by the AIDS epidemic and prayers are offered on the behalf of the volunteers who contracted malaria. Following this, the pastor extends an exhortation for everyone to participate in the citywide peace march the following Saturday. He mentions at least 3 times that it is part a global event coordinated by several denominations. We all get the picture.

Today's program seems to be a bit of a departure from the ordinary since there's a special presentation by the children's Jubilee Club. In typical fashion, they all recite together their theme verse (Luke 4:18) and put on those huge wacky glasses like one would buy at the fair, then parade around in order to announce their new drive to collect used eyeglasses to send to Central America in the fall.  

The pastor promises his sermon will be short but maybe not so sweet.  He warms up by focusing on Micah 6:6-8 and the uniqueness of the Hebrew poetry. He takes a tangent that I appreciate and explains the rich meaning behind the word "shalom;" that it is more equivalent in English to "completeness" or "balance" rather than just "peace." Then he asks the congregation, as if expecting individual responses, if they are ready to make the sacrifices necessary, to make the needed adjustments in lifestyle and, most importantly, to open up to the inevitable personal vulnerability that it will take to will bring about this "shalom" in the world. I sense from many around me that they have already decided these questions and that they are proving it with their lives. Just like a scrumptious dessert that completes a full meal, I find it quite pleasing to see how many new members are invited into this congregation at the end of the service evidently due to a new ministry aimed at healing and helping broken families.

The following day in wonderland I find myself in the reception area of my doctor's office where I spot a back issue of Christianity Today amid the neatly stacked magazines. The first thing that catches my eye is a seminary advertisement bragging of its new degree plans in justice ministries surrounded by the smiling faces of enthusiastic students. On the opposite page is a stark and simple ad for the radical community called Assisi. I am amazed to see how many locations they have worldwide.   

Turning the page reveals an interesting article about a mega church somewhere that adopts small countries in which to develop their justice strategy, the so called Psalm 146 Plan. It seems to involve a comprehensive plan of developing grass roots participation in the areas of justice of the oppressed, food for the hungry, fair advocacy for prisoners, sight to the blind, support for the widows, construction of new orphanages and refugee centers all this presented in an attractive publicity campaign. 

Just as the doctor's receptionist calls my name, I catch a final glimpse of an ad for a new women's devotional guide that suggests a prayer each day for various groups that have been known to suffer undue discrimination and oppression.

My doctor friend greets me with a big smile and can't wait to tell me about the recent month he spent in the favelas of Rio de Janiero. "I can't seem to get over the presence of God I felt when humbly treating those simple but beautiful people. Even though it was unbearably hot and the medical equipment was practically non existent, it was as if God was using my hands...that's something I've rarely felt in my years of practice."  He pauses.  "But unfortunately for you, he says with a snicker, I don't feel quite so spiritual today." My doctor "friend" lets out a wild laugh while showing me the enormous syringe in his hand.

The next thing I remember is someone calling my name several times... oh, it's Ron asking me if I'm up for another coffee. I manage to get out a "huh? ...uh, yeah" and slap a two dollar coin on the table. "Man, you seem out of it tonight. Are you ok?" Ron inquires. "You know the large, gaping peace and justice hole you told me about earlier?" I ask. "I think I fell right into the middle of it!"

Ron gets up saying, "Hang on, I’ve got to hear more about this---but in round two." He slips through the crowded tables of the Ludovic, and makes his way to the coffee counter, "Deux cafés, s'il vous plaît."