By Msgr. Noel C. Burtenshaw

Night had just fallen when I arrived at Clifton Presbyterian Church. I could just see that it was a small complex. Small in geographic space, that is. In service, it is just gigantic.

The church-hall, the dining room areas and the little corridors are full of men. These men are not your executive types-you see that right away. But a note of contentment comes from them as they relax, read or chat animatedly among themselves and with interested church members.

These are men from the streets of Atlanta. They are homeless men, jobless men, the last of this country’s wandering vagabonds. They want to stay in this city, but they are ready to move on when the mysterious call comes – whenever it happens or whatever it is.

They have just had their evening meal. It was prepared by Anne and Gilbert Nicholson who live in Sandy Springs but come here to this tiny Decatur church where they feel the Christian community at work. “It is a wonderful apostolate,” says Anne. “It is a real sharing of yourself with brothers in need.”

Anne and Gilbert have brought their three tiny children. Grace—she is about five—is challenging one of the men to a game of checkers. Desperately she wants to beat him. The ragged, unshaven opponent is having the time of his life just being involved with this little girl in the beautiful fray of a shared, companionable game of checkers.

The two boys will talk to anyone about sports and find plenty of takers. “Sure, man, we’ve caught a few fly-balls in our time.”

Over in the corner, a bright-eyed black brother picks a song, blue and mellow, on the preacher’s guitar. A couple of the guys harmonize. It’s nice in the night.

It’s like home. It is home. And in the winter, it was paradise for 35 men each night.

Rev. Ed Loring is the pastor. Six years ago, he and his wife, Murphy, came to Clifton when the great old church was dying. “It was passing into a new phase,” says Ed, “and we were looking for a new apostolate. Well, we found it. And for our 25 members (that’s all the official membership they have) it was a program we wanted.”

Hundreds of men and women live on the streets of Atlanta every night. They have no home and nowhere to go. “You need money to sleep each night,” says Ed, “and many of them don’t have it.”

To stay at the Union Mission and other night shelters cost $3 per night and more. There are a few places women can go. “You know what they do?” asks Ed Loring. “They ride the bus till the buses stop. And you know what the greatest danger is? Cold and rain, yes. But worse than that – violence. They are brutalized and out there on Atlanta’s streets they are unprotected.”

About 18 months ago Clifton began the program. Each evening Ed Loring or his associate, Rob Johnson, drives a creaky old bus downtown to a point known to the men. Tickets have been distributed and the 35 with a ticket may board the bus. “It’s heart-breaking,” says Ed, “leaving so many behind on cold nights. But we can only take 35. The rest must make it on the streets.”

They arrive back in Clifton at 5:30 and a hot meal is served. Volunteers cook the meal, always good, nourishing hot fare. “The food is donated,” says Rob Johnson, “or we pay for it at St. Luke’s food bank. It’s excellent quality and we get it for a low cost. And we’ve always been able to pay for it.”

After the meal, the men clean up, help with the dishes and sit back to relax. They chat with church members, visit the “clothes closet” where used, clean clothing is available to them at no cost or sit and talk about everything – family – yesterdays and good times.

As bed time approaches, it is time to prepare the great dormitory. Carefully the men place mattresses on the carpeted floor of what seems to be the church-hall. It is a great oblong space and comfortably accommodates the 35 sleeping spaces. But a closer examination brings a startling revelation. You note the organ pushed back in the corner and the small altar moved against the wall and the banner depicting the Saviour hanging on the wall. This is not any church-hall. This is the Church. Clifton Presbyterian Church has become the resting place – the sanctuary for the homeless.

Most mornings will see these men back on the streets before 7:00 a.m. “They need to get downtown,” says Ed Loring, “to get to the job banks and maybe pick up a day’s work. Others will head for the library and lunch at St. Luke’s or anywhere else they can get food and shelter.”

As they prepare to load onto the bus the chatter among them continues. “That guy killing those kids, he’s a nut.” “Yeah or some Vietnam vet suffering from agent orange.” “Yeah man and he’s sure getting’ this town a bad name…”

They are the homeless men of Atlanta. But now, thanks to the vision of Ed Loring and his little congregation, they have somewhere to go.

Ed and Rob and their families are moving from Clifton this summer to begin another house for the homeless in downtown Atlanta. “The Presbyterian Center is interested,” says Ed. “It looks like we are getting a big house and the work will go on somewhere else. You know, we got our inspiration for all this from your Dorothy Day and her work in New York. Now we want it to continue.”

The homeless men want it to continue also. They are grateful to Clifton Presbyterian Church and they show it in the way they carefully clean each room before departing on the bus. They are also grateful to the “preacher,” Ed Loring. Their commentary on this man is expressed often casually, but with total sincerity. “That man’s a saint.”

When it comes to the apostolate over at Clifton Presbyterian Church, you know there’s an unusual happening taking place there.