Leroy Barber

Bio

Leroy Barber has dedicated more than 20 years to eradicating poverty, confronting homelessness, restoring local neighborhoods, healing racism, and living what Dr. King called “the beloved community.”

Leroy starts projects that shape society; In 1990, burdened by the plight of the Philadelphia’s homeless, he founded Restoration Ministries, to serve homeless families and children living on the streets. In 1997, he joined FCS Urban Ministries, to serve as the founding Director of Atlanta Youth Academies, a private elementary school, to provide quality Christian education for low-income families in the inner city.

He is currently the President of Mission Year, a national urban initiative introducing 18-29 year olds to missional and communal living in city centers for one year of their lives. Rev. Barber is the Pastor of a church plant, Community Fellowships Church; and on the boards of Atlanta Youth Academy and DOOR. Leroy was also chosen as a contributor to the ground-breaking book, UnChristian: What a New Generation Thinks About Christianity and Why It Matters.

Leroy is married to Donna and together they have three children, Jessica, Joshua and Joel.

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Leroy Barber's Blog

A Different Kind of Doctor / Jun 15, 01:20 PM

John was a team member in Mission Year five years ago. He came to Atlanta just after finishing at the Philadelphia School of Pharmacy. John felt a call to serve and live out his faith in the midst of discerning where his life and career path would lead him.

John has a strong family tradition that values education and faith. He was excited to serve in Atlanta but also felt pushed to further his education. John’s family had always believed that he would be a doctor; John felt this pressure but wanted to be sure that this was what he should do before pursuing a medical degree. After arriving at Mission Year, he began volunteering at Habitat for Humanity and helped prepare homes for low income families in Atlanta. While serving with his team, John coached sports, worked in after-school programs and served the homeless near his downtown Mission Year home. John had a great team and a wonderful year, and his passions for Jesus and people grew while serving. As the end of the year approached, John decided that his year was going so well that he would stay in Atlanta and continue loving and serving his neighbors.

I was the city director when John did Mission Year, and part of the role of city directors is to meet once a month with each team member individually. As John’s year progressed, he wrestled more and more with his call. Habitat for Humanity was a great organization, but it didn’t strike a chord with his passions and gifts. Perhaps God could use John’s gift for academics and his passion for people. We began to talk about medical school and his call to be a doctor. Perhaps his parents’ dream had been the beginning of God’s process of calling John, and Mission Year was the place to help confirm it.

John applied to Morehouse School of Medicine because he was interested in going to a school where healthcare for the poor is a priority. Their mission statement reads: Morehouse School of Medicine is dedicated to improving the health and well-being of individuals and communities; increasing the diversity of the health professional and scientific workforce; and addressing primary health-care needs through programs in education, research, and service, with emphasis on people of color and the underserved urban and rural populations in Georgia and the nation. It was the perfect match. After Mission Year, John spent the following years attending Morehouse and staying active in his community in Atlanta. He graduated this May and will soon begin a residency in Tulsa.

John is a doctor that has a heart for the poor, a follower of Jesus that uses his call to serve the world. He is a different kind of doctor. When Mission Year was started twelve years ago, the philosophy was for team members to give a year that would change the way they looked at life. “If you’re going to be a doctor, you can still be one – but you will be a different kind,” were the words of Tony Campolo, one of the founders of Mission Year. It is good to see team members live out this vision. Please keep supporting these young people as they begin to discern and connect to God’s call on their lives.

With Love, Appreciation and Thanks,

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Privilege Denied / Apr 28, 10:24 AM

Spring in Atlanta is simply beautiful. The trees and flowers begin to blossom, and the sunshine and temperature are perfect for taking a walk. The mood is light as people spend more time outdoors. Spring is also a time when we experience many thunderstorms as cold and warm fronts collide; quite frequently our electricity goes out because of tree limbs falling on power lines throughout the neighborhood.

This past week we lost power one morning after a heavy storm. I called my wife to check on the status of the power as I headed home from an evening meeting only to find out that the power was still out. My immediate thought was that we should go somewhere for dinner, so I picked up my wife and son to head out of the neighborhood. While at the restaurant, I made sure to charge my computer so I could use it at home. We also stopped for candles on the drive back to our house. With candles in hand, a fully charged computer available, and full stomachs, we were set for the evening. The darkness descended on our neighborhood, and as it did, so did God’s spirit in the form of a question: “Are your neighbors okay?” I was convicted by the question as I reflected back on my evening. I had a car and the resources to go out to dinner, buy candles, and charge my computer. My knee jerk reaction to the crisis of not having power for 14 hours was to create comfort for myself and my family. I had not thought of my neighbors who may have needed food but had no car to go buy some. I had not thought to buy extra candles to take to my neighbors if they needed them. I used my power and privilege for myself.

I immediately went to the store, purchased candles, and went around the neighborhood asking people if they needed them. It was no surprise at that point to find people sitting on their steps in front of dark houses. I asked the first woman I saw if she needed candles. Not only did she need candles, she had asthma and her breathing machine was down because of the power. She needed my phone to call an ambulance. At the next house there was a dad sitting on the steps with his sons; they were so grateful for the candles that his sons cheered. I wish I could say that this concern for my neighbors was my first response, but it was not.

The message of the cross became even more powerful for me that evening. How much more incredible is it that Jesus denied himself of privilege to die for us. I am reminded of the scene between Jesus and Pilate when Pilate says, “I have the power to save you,” and Jesus responds, “You have no power but the power I have given you.” Jesus was well aware of his power and privilege yet made decisions to suffer with and for us. I cannot help but think that Jesus would have stayed in his neighborhood, ate what was there, let his computer run out of battery, and sat with his neighbors in the darkness. In fact, I think that is what he did.

I was also reminded of our team members who decide to live on little, catch public transportation, serve their neighborhoods, and scrub toilets – as one Chicago team member who volunteers at a shelter tells me – not because they have to but because they are called to. Thank you for supporting our work with your prayers and financial support. Please continue to send your resources to connect with those who are suffering.

With Love, Appreciation and Thanks,

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March Newsletter - Just a Number / Mar 23, 11:16 AM

Dear Friends,

The next two months I will focus on our team members and try to give you a glimpse of life from their perspective. Becky is one of our team members in New Orleans who experienced injustice from her neighbor’s perspective. Below is her story.

When we first arrived in New Orleans, part of our orientation to the city involved finding the police station, fire station, and medical facility that was closest to our house. At the time, we discovered that there was not a medical facility even remotely close to where we live. Where was the justice in that? How were the people in our neighborhood supposed to get the medical care that they needed? I hadn’t given the situation more thought until this week. On Sunday night, I became aware of a pain on the back of my right heel. By Monday morning, it was clear that I had an infection on the back of my foot that was getting bigger and bigger.

After searching the internet for doctors in the city, I came across one that was on a familiar busline. As far as I could tell, the rest of the doctors could only be reached by car. I called first thing in the morning on Tuesday and was told that they don’t do appointments. You just show up and wait to be helped. Perfect. I needed antibiotics before this infection got any bigger.

I took the bus to the medical clinic that I had found. My foot was really painful at this point so I was anxious to see a doctor. I opened the door to the clinic and saw a room full of people who were waiting to be seen. All eyes were on me as I signed in at the desk. Everything about the place felt sterile. The chairs were all full, so I sat on the floor against the wall. There was no guarantee that I’d even get to see the doctor. The clinic closed in 2 hours, and there were about 20 people ahead of me. All I could do was wait. I sat there for a few minutes feeling really uncomfortable because everyone was still staring at me wondering why I, a white girl, would be going to a medical clinic in that part of the city. Then, I saw a sign on the wall that read “Cash Only- No Exceptions.” My heart sank. I only had $20 in my pocket, and $20 wasn’t enough to see the doctor. I had planned to pay with credit card. There was no budging on their policy. The receptionist refused to even hear what I had to say. I was totally at the mercy of “the system.” That’s a frustrating place to be, and it was unfamiliar to me. Disheartened, I took the bus back home and decided to try again somewhere else on Wednesday.

I’ve seen a lot of injustices since I’ve been here in New Orleans, but I had never personally experienced anything like what happened at the clinic. The woman patients were given no respect. It was dehumanizing. Their level of pain didn’t matter. Their own schedule didn’t matter. At the end of the day, the payment was what mattered. It’s crazy to me that, for some, this is the only kind of healthcare that is available. I was only able to see a different doctor because I had a friend who was able to drive me there. [Praise the Lord that my foot is doing MUCH better!] Many people in my neighborhood don’t have cars or don’t know how to drive. Aside from the transportation problem, you have to have cash to pay for the medical services. The sheer cost of medical care keeps many people from seeking it. A place like the clinic that I went to on Tuesday is all that is available to them. Something needs to change.

What changes the life of the poor is when we experience just a little of what people go through. Becky and many of our team members do that daily. Neighbors are not heroes, just people who take up the causes of those they know and love. Please continue to support our work with your prayers and financial support.

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Winter / Feb 26, 10:38 AM

Dear Friends,

This is the time of year that challenges our team members tremendously. They are midway through the year, it has been cold for a while and they, like everyone else, are tired of the cold, especially when heading out every day to catch public transportation or walk. At this point, the challenges of living and serving far outweigh the glamour when you live in an under-resourced community, work in an under-supported school or ministry and read about the injustice of it daily. The days get long and the inspiration becomes hard to grasp. Questions like, “Why am I here?” and, “Am I really going to make a difference?” begin to ring loudly in the heart and mind.

It is right at this point where we begin to see God emerge in our work. In the middle of the mundane, in the midst of struggle, here is where our faith is found. Here is where we are broken, and God takes over in our weakness. God, in the middle of our questions and scuffle to keep things together, shows himself strong. When we can’t see but keep walking towards what we believe, it is indeed faith. Faith pleases God.

We will keep walking even though it is cold, even though it seems fruitless in the winter of our work. We have faith that this spring and summer God will make our efforts to love people and represent him bloom. The seeds of relationships planted over the fall and faithfully cared for over the winter will flower.

People are watching us as we alertly, unswervingly stay at our post… in hard times, tough times, bad times; when we’re beaten up, jailed, and mobbed; working hard, working late, working without eating; with pure heart, clear head, steady hand; in gentleness, holiness, and honest love; when we’re telling the truth and when God is showing his power; when we’re doing our best to set things right; when we’re praised and when we’re blamed; slandered or honored; true to our word though distrusted; ignored by the world but recognized by God; terrifically alive though rumored to be dead; beaten within an inch of our lives but refusing to die; immersed in tears yet always filled with deep joy; living on handouts yet enriching many; having nothing yet having it all.

It is in the everyday struggle of life where we begin to make an impact. It is in the dreary days of winter where we gain strength. The humdrum days of February lead to the fulfillment of spring. Please continue to pray and support us financially through this winter as we anticipate a wonderful season ahead.

With Love, Appreciation and Thanks,

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