Push Back Darkness

It’s always the loudest and ugliest that get the most attention. That’s true in politics, online arguments — and it’s especially true when people talk about churches. The online space is filled with commentators who call out celebrity pastors and their $6,000 sneakers and private jets.

“Tax the churches!” they say. Or “Religion is just a business.” or “Churches are always asking for money!” 

Believe me, I get the cynicism. A small number of celebrity pastors have abused their influence, and their scandals spread far and wide. But those headlines—shocking as they may be—don’t reflect what churches actually look like in places like Bradford.

What most people don’t see is that the average church in America is not a 5,000 seat media production powerhouse. The reality is much more humble: the median church is about sixty-five people in weekly attendance. A church that reaches 200 in attendance is in the top 10% of churches in America. That means the outlying massive megachurches with their television ministries that are asking you to send them “seed money” are a very small representation of what the church looks like.

A median salary for most pastors in the U.S. is around $45,000 to $55,000 a year—and many make far less, often working two jobs just to support their families. These aren’t CEOs of corporations. They’re community members who work long hours like everyone else, the same people who stand with you on your best days and in your hardest moments.

Most churches don’t have endowments or outside funding—quite the opposite. They survive almost entirely on the generosity of the people who attend and the community that believes their presence matters.

Lately I’ve welcomed a lot of young adults into the faith, and their questions remind me how much we take for granted. One asked me, “Where does the church get the money to do all this? Does the government help?” He couldn’t believe it when I told him the truth: most of what we do is funded entirely by the generosity of the people who sit in our chairs each week—people who give because they love God and love their neighbors, not because anyone twists their arm.

I’ve seen this firsthand at Open Arms Community Church here in Bradford. We’re not a megachurch, not a corporation — we’re a local congregation made up of ordinary people trying to make a difference in the place we all call home.

Living in McKean County is certainly a haven in comparison to other parts of the country where crime and crisis run rampant. We’re relatively safe if you compare the statistics to Philadelphia, for example. But we’ve seen some headlines this past year that have rocked us – so many stories of violence, child abuse, overdose deaths, and families falling apart under the weight of addiction and crisis. No child dreams of growing up to land in prison. No newlywed couple stands at the altar planning for alcoholism or domestic abuse. No teenager imagines their adult life beginning and ending with an overdose. People don’t choose these endings because they want them; they arrive there through layers of trauma, hopelessness, and despair that build slowly over time.

And that is precisely why the presence of a healthy church in a community matters. Churches aren’t just places for religious ritual; at their best, they are places where someone finds help before the crisis becomes the headline. They are spaces where people talk through their wounds instead of acting out of them. A church is where friendships provide accountability before someone makes the decision they can’t take back. It’s where a struggling parent learns skills that bring stability back into a chaotic home, and where an addict finds support through the long journey toward freedom — not judgment. It’s the quiet work of a volunteer talking a teenager out of a terrible decision at 10PM on a school night — work that never shows up on the front page but absolutely changes the outcome.

Much of what churches do is preventative work you’ll never see on the news. It’s not flashy. It doesn’t trend. It happens quietly, behind the scenes, in living rooms, over cups of coffee, in late-night phone calls, in hospital waiting rooms, and in the small, consistent moments where one life influences another. It is the kind of work that reduces despair long before despair becomes destructive. And it is the kind of work that no government program nor nonprofit model can fully replicate, because it depends on relationship, community, and the belief that every person — every single one — is worth fighting for.

People say the church only wants money. But what the church really wants is fewer funerals, fewer broken homes, fewer kids lost to despair, fewer headlines that break our hearts.

So yes, churches ask for support. But not because pastors are living the high life, and not because churches are sitting on piles of cash. Churches ask for support because the work of helping a community heal takes resources: buildings that stay open, staff who can give their time, meals that need to be purchased, programs that need materials, and a hundred other practical needs that make compassionate work possible. The church isn’t asking for money to prop up an institution. It’s asking for partnership to strengthen a community.

A better question to ask might be this: what would happen to a town like Bradford if the churches disappeared? What would happen to the families in crisis, the kids who need mentors, the elderly who are lonely, the people battling addiction, the ones on the edge of despair? 

It’s not just the organization doing the work. It’s the people, and the church is the vehicle that allows them to get connected to relationships where people can help each other. Let’s ask the question: If you were in trouble at 11PM, who would you call for help? Many people don’t have someone. But if you’re in a good church, you are in a network of people who have your back.

The church isn’t perfect. No human institution is. But despite its imperfections, it remains one of the last places still committed to stepping into the darkest parts of people’s lives with hope, compassion, and the stubborn belief that redemption is possible. Not for money. Not for prestige. But because we love the place we live, and we refuse to give up on the people who call it home.

If our community is ever going to turn the tide on the despair captured in our headlines, we’re going to need strong families, safe kids, supportive friendships, open doors, listening ears, and the kind of hope that grows in relationship, not isolation. The church is one of the few institutions still fighting for all of that. And for that reason alone, it’s worth supporting.

December 2 is Giving Tuesday. I’m asking that even if you aren’t a part of a local church, that you consider giving to support one. You can give to any of the churches in our community and I know it will make a difference.

If you aren’t sure which church to choose, let me humbly recommend that you give to our Local Impact Fund at Open Arms Community Church. The vision at Open Arms is “Restored Lives in Christ” and “Transformed Community for God’s Glory”. We’re in the fight to make people’s lives better, to make our community better.

For more information about how to give this Giving Tuesday, visit https://openarmscommunitychurch.org/push-back-the-darkness/

You know the great thing about rock bottom? Bedrock is the ideal place to build a strong foundation.

Life throws painful moments at us, like arrows, and they always seem to land right at the core of old wounds. But in those moments, life also holds up a mirror. Lies are laid bare. Reality shocks us. 

Lying on my living room floor just a few short months ago, I found God again – at age 36. Then I promptly found Open Arms Community Church in Bradford. For pushing back the darkness in my life – and for so many other reasons soon to be discussed – I urge area residents to support the church’s Local Impact Fund this Giving Tuesday (Dec. 2) at https://openarmscommunitychurch.org/push-back-the-darkness/.

Truth be told, I had been to Open Arms before, several years back before the church moved to its current location on Congress Street. The pastor’s husband has long been one of my best friends. A true man of God, he had always held the doorways to faith open to me, with a friendly nod saying, “Come in out of the cold, man.”

I did. For a while.

But like so many others, faith can be short-lived. We begin to feel better about our adult problems and human foibles. We may mask or rationalize away our addictions. If we’re feeling stronger, why do we need God? “Thanks for the pick-me-up, God. I’ll take it from here,” many of us have in some way said. That mindset, of course, never works. As Jesus’s parable of the farmer sowing seeds (Matthew 13) notes, the seeds spread on footpaths, shallow soil and among thorns get picked off, blown away, dried up or choked out.

We need deep, fertile soil. Open Arms is that deep, fertile soil. 

I immediately joined the men’s group – aptly called the Tribe of Lions – and gained the strongest and most honest support system I’ve ever met. Men from different walks of life and perspectives, with personal issues all their own, coming together to help shoulder their brothers’ burdens.

I felt the call to serve. I had also for years neglected my creative passions like art and music, so I dusted off my guitar and joined the praise band. Joining the band has allowed me to fill my creative cup, flow it forth to others and praise God with beautiful music.

I’m also an alcoholic, a decades-long battle that ends now with support from the church’s Homecoming Recovery support group. This one is undoubtedly the most intimate of all, with members at various stages of recovery from any number of addictions. Here we’ve encountered something not often found at home or out in the community: genuine love and understanding. We aren’t judged. Our life struggles and triggers aren’t looked upon with suspicion or condemnation. Through discussion, support, prayer and Scripture reflection, we’re given the opportunity to finally heal deep wounds that guide our actions beyond reach of the conscious mind.    

Open Arms Community Church features so many programs like these – called microchurches – to help men, women, teens and children. Just as importantly, the church is outwardly focused into the Bradford community and surrounding areas, which so desperately need help. The move downtown was strategic, placing the church at the heart of neighborhoods crushed by addiction, violence, broken families and despair.  

Thoughts and prayers alone make for a pretty poor ministry. The good folks at Open Arms dive deep into the muck of life to rescue and redeem. 

Miracles aren’t instant gifts, divine interventions and deliverances. More often, they’re good works – groups of average people brought together to use their skills and compassion for God’s purpose.

I’ve seen this in action. 

Regardless if you’re religious, the truth is the good work Open Arms Community Church is doing within your friends, families and neighbors deserves support.

(Kelsey Boudin lives in Olean, NY and can be reached at kelsey@grandriveragency.org.)

When I think of the word neighborhood, my mind drifts back to the worlds of Sesame Street and Mister Rogers—places where people knew each other’s names, differences were celebrated, and kindness was the default posture. Nostalgia has a way of softening reality. For many of us, that was never the world we lived in. And for most of us here today, it still isn’t.

I’m a pastor and a church planter. I’ve spent years studying community, watching how it thrives in some cultures and struggles in others. In many parts of Asia and Africa, the church grows rapidly within collectivist societies where interdependence is not optional—it’s essential for survival. People rely on one another daily, and that reliance builds strong communal bonds.

America, however, has a different dream—one shaped around rugged independence. Success here is often defined by not needing help from anyone. In a culture that prizes isolation as achievement, true community becomes almost impossible. If you believe you don’t need others, why would you value them? Why invest in connection?

That fiercely independent mindset may be a cultural ideal, but it is not a blueprint for human flourishing. It is certainly not a biblical one. We are wired for connection. We are called to love, support, and learn from each other. To do that, we need humility—and the willingness to learn both from Scripture and from the cultures that are doing community well.

A Different Vision for Bradford

Enter Open Arms Community Church. And other ministries like Communities of Transformation (CoT), Destinations Bradford, Bright Alternatives, and the Bradford Ministerium Churches. These organizations are filled with groups of individuals from varied backgrounds who commit not just to improving their own lives but to growing together. Not as isolated problem-solvers but as a community.

I believe God has a dream for our city—yes, our own Bradford, Pennsylvania. A dream of people who are willing to share their lives, help one another, and rebuild the social fabric we’ve allowed to fray. 

This isn’t an idealistic pipe dream, but a dream that I believe God gave me in the summer of 2020. I was standing in the field at the old Central Christian school. I had a vision of a community worshipping together in unity. At that moment, I saw children climbing the old oak tree on the property, filling the playground, which had been restored. I saw a bounce house filled with children happily jumping and playing. Parents talking and laughing together at their children. Then I looked up towards the hill and saw someone preaching to a crowd of gathered people, listening intently to God’s Word. It overwhelmed me; I said to God, “I don’t know how to see this come to fruition”. He said in response in my heart, “What will happen to them if you don’t?”

Since then, I have devoted myself to seeing a unified community of worshippers in Bradford. We have seen so many breakthroughs. People working together that previously have never considered helping one another. People put aside their differences to seek the unity of our city in order to help others. People coming to faith that previously had none and were broken beyond repair. People recovering from addiction and turning their lives around. 

But transformation requires participation. Bradford has roughly 7,000 residents. Our congregations and other organizations have a fraction of that number of active participants. The work ahead of us is enormous.

And it starts with asking ourselves a deceptively simple question:

How many of us actually know our neighbors?

National research is startling:
– Only 10% of people can name all eight of their immediate neighbors.
– Only 3% know meaningful personal details about every household.
– Less than 1% know their neighbors’ deeper hopes, challenges, or fears.

We walk past each other daily—strangers living yards apart.

Bradford’s Challenges Are Real, but So Is Its Value

Our city faces undeniable struggles:
– Among the highest drug overdose death rates in the country
– Higher-than-average excessive drinking rates
– Nearly half of adults diagnosed with a mental illness
– A poverty rate 13% higher than the national average

We can read those numbers and decide Bradford is broken beyond repair. Or we can choose to view our city—and the people who make it—through a different lens: one that recognizes their value, potential, and humanity.

Loving Our Neighbors Isn’t a Metaphor

When Jesus named the two greatest commandments—loving God and loving people—He wasn’t offering a poetic suggestion. He was laying out the foundation for a thriving, compassionate society.

That’s why that is our Purpose at Open Arms Community Church. 

For many Americans, the idea of loving neighbors the way we love ourselves or our families is revolutionary. But that revolution starts with proximity.

Several months ago, I realized I’d lived in my home for 18 years without truly knowing the people living around me. I knew faces. I knew greetings exchanged at the mailbox. But I didn’t know what kept my neighbors up at night, what they celebrated, or how I could pray for them.

If we want to change a community, we must first choose to enter it.

As Eugene Peterson paraphrases John 1:14 in The Message:
“The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood.”

Jesus didn’t love from afar. He showed up.

Our church chose to take that call seriously—we physically moved downtown last spring to be closer to the people we serve.

How a Neighboring Movement Begins

If Bradford is going to change, it won’t happen through programs alone. It will begin with neighbors deciding to be neighbors again.

Here’s where we start:

SEE — Ask to see people the way Jesus sees them.
ACCEPT — Embrace their differences, even when they challenge us.
PRAY — Bring their needs before God and ask how you can help meet them.

This isn’t a theory. It’s a movement waiting to happen.

A Different Kind of Community Is Possible

Bradford doesn’t need more isolation. It needs people willing to invest in one another, share life, and build trust. It needs neighborhoods full of people who are visible, available, and compassionate.

It needs people willing to ask for a heart that sees, accepts, and acts.

If you’re searching for a place to start, Open Arms Community Church is one such place. But whether you come to one of our services or simply knock on a neighbor’s door, the true transformation of Bradford begins with one simple step:

Show up.
See someone.
Be a neighbor.

That’s how communities are reborn.

Join us in the movement here at: https://openarmscommunitychurch.org/push-back-the-darkness