Mission much more than soup and hymns

What comes to mind when you think of Cherry Street Mission? If a soup kitchen and hymn-singing dominate your mental picture, think again.

Cherry Street's ministries provide the same four S's -- soup, soap, shelter, and salvation -- that they did when Jessie and Bertha Fleck founded the Toledo mission in 1947 to rescue men who had hit bottom. The mission remains the biggest, strongest lifeline for thousands of our homeless and desperately poor neighbors in northwest Ohio and southeast Michigan.

Cherry Street still never turns away anyone who arrives in need and out of hope, and never charges for its services. It still takes not a cent of government money, relying on the community for private donations and the work of thousands of volunteers. And it still makes faith in Jesus the cornerstone of changing lives for the better.

But in recent years, the missions' ministries have emphasized preventing homelessness, poverty, and addiction, as well as responding to these crises after they occur. And in so doing, Cherry Street has made itself one of the most effective, comprehensive human service agencies in the region.

I visited the ministries' operations on a sweltering afternoon. My hosts were Charles Allen, Cherry Street's director of spiritual emphasis, and anti-homelessness crusader Ken Leslie, who says his 1Matters group has a "symbiotic relationship" with the mission.

"We rescue people, and we restore them with the tools to live successfully when they leave Cherry Street," Mr. Allen told me. "You need to do both -- to challenge them and empower them to take ownership of their lives."

Dan Rogers, president and chief executive officer of Cherry Street Mission Ministries, leads a prayer during Easter dinner. THE BLADE Enlarge | Photo Reprints

Adds Mr. Leslie: "By the time the federal government figures out what's going on, it's five to 10 years too late. [Cherry Street Mission] is at curb level."

If the recession is abating locally, you won't find much evidence of that at the mission. Last month, Cherry Street's ministries provided emergency housing to 227 men and women on an average night, 6.6 percent more than in July, 2010. They served 668 meals on a typical day last month, a 7.4 percent increase.

There are people behind these numbers, and maybe not who you'd think. Many of the people the mission calls its guests got there because a sudden layoff or an extended illness, not covered by health insurance, left them destitute.

One recent mission guest was a former corporate chief executive. Others couldn't cope with the death of a spouse or a child, or sought refuge from domestic violence or another of life's disasters.

These folks aren't "them." They're us.

"People here are no different from anybody else," says Renee Monday, the mission's food services director. "We're all just one tragedy away from being homeless."

I met Dave at the mission's Life-Bridge Center on Monroe Street. The center, on the site of the former Banner Mattress warehouse, provides donated clothes and shoes, furniture, and household appliances to poor families and individuals.

Dave -- the last names of present and former guests generally aren't used, to respect their privacy -- has availed himself of Cherry Street's services. He's paying that back by volunteering at the center.

"I consider this to be my ministry," he says. "That's why I'm here 40 hours a week."

In addition to its emergency shelters -- its main location at 17th and Monroe Streets for men, places called Sparrow's Nest and The Oaks for women -- Cherry Street provides transitional housing to hundreds of people who are preparing to live on their own. They cook and clean and tend backyard gardens at their residences, for themselves and others.

Each month the mission also distributes dozens of food boxes that include a dozen meals on average, to prevent hunger. But it goes beyond responding to survival needs, applying its hard-earned knowledge of personal crises to prevention strategies.

Cherry Street prepares individual care plans for its guests. It offers them mental-health and alcohol and drug abuse counseling. Its education center helps them earn high school equivalency diplomas, work with computers, and hold jobs.

Mission ministries operate a four-unit apartment building and other permanent housing, along with urban farms, a medical clinic, a food service center, several community centers, and a "baby university" that imparts parenting skills.

The scope of Cherry Street's activities is as impressive as it is transformational. Mr. Allen says guests participate in mission programs for 18 months on average. Some stay as long as four years.

"Every other program puts time stamps on people," he says. "We'll treat you like an individual and work with you long enough to really help you."

Unlike secular social-service agencies, sharing the gospel remains a mission priority. But while Mr. Allen says the mission is "unapologetic" about its Christian orientation, it no longer requires its guests to attend chapel services in return for the aid it offers.

"But 90 percent of them participate in Bible study," he says. "If we can help them stay connected with a mosque or a synagogue, that's important, too. Knowing that God loves them and cares for them gives them a sense of purpose and hope."

Like other area institutions, Cherry Street faces the challenge of maintaining its donor base during the economic downtown, even as demands on the ministries have risen. But Mr. Allen says the mission has no plans to revisit its policy against accepting government funding.

"We value our message over money, and we don't want it to be hindered," he says. "We don't want the attachments of, 'You must do it this way.' "

Avoiding the prospect of such bureaucratic dictates is easier in this community, Mr. Allen adds.

"Toledo is one of the greatest places in the country to respond to people in need," he says. "Every time we've been in a tough spot, we've gone to the community and they've come through.

"God's hand is on this community in a way that blows everybody's mind."

David Kushma is editor of The Blade.
Contact him at: dkushma@theblade.com