Amateur missionaries

Chip Pamplin, 47, stepped out of his red GMC Envoy parked near a gas station in suburban Baltimore. The two men and a woman who rested under a tree stubbed out their cigarettes, gathered up their bags, and headed over to the SUV.

“I thought you guys were moving?” Pamplin said.

“Yeah, I’m moving to Florida,” said Jeremiah, as he slid into the back of the vehicle.

On the other side of the station, Reina dozed on a blanket in the hot July sun. She roused herself when she heard Chip’s voice. After gathering her blanket and belongings, she walked to the SUV, stuck her stuff in the back, and headed into the convenience store for coffee.

Meanwhile, Chip spotted a man drinking a beer and leaning against the grocery store across the street. “I think that’s another one,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” Leaving his vehicle running and unattended, he jogged across the street to introduce himself.

Back at Central Christian Assembly, Chip’s wife, Cindy, 48, was putting together a hot dog and chili dinner. In a message after the meal she pleaded with the crowd: “Stop ignoring God . … He has already forgiven you. Just ask Him.”

Three years ago, Chip, a warehouse manager, and Cindy, a nurse, were living together and ignoring God. Now they spend their off-work hours telling vagrants about Jesus.

Before he was a Christian, Chip got his thrills from selling drugs and illegally racing cars. He used his unassuming manner and persuasive speech to keep out of trouble. Cindy attended church sporadically. One Sunday morning they wandered into Central Christian Assembly, liked what they heard, and kept coming back.

The pastors remember them as ”just raw,” “rough around the edges,” and “not all polished and proper.” But they also saw they were hungry for the gospel and eager to participate in the life of the church. They joined small groups and attended worship services and free MercyMe concerts. One pastor counseled them to marry, which they did in May 2014.

Over time, Central’s pastoral staff saw the Pamplins growing in their concern for the poor. Central’s worship pastor Scot Maisel says, “Even though they were still trying to figure things out … they pointed out a need in the community.”

Every day as Cindy commuted to work, she noticed a large number of homeless people. Since the church had no outreach to them, she told Central that she and Chip would start one.

The self-funded ministry began in January with three homeless persons from their neighborhood. Those three introduced the Pamplins to others and the outreach grew. Chip said offering food and clothing helped break the initial barrier, but he wants more: “To me it still ain’t about feeding them; our purpose is to bring them to Christ.”

In the beginning, the Pamplins’ pastors worried about their lack of training. But the couple went forward anyway. The number of persons they bring to church on Sunday mornings continues to grow, but not without growing pains.

Several months ago, Chip and Cindy brought an intoxicated man to a morning service. While sipping from a brown-bagged bottle, the man stumbled across the front altar, alarming some church members.

When Central’s staff addressed the Pamplins, Chip retorted, “He was giving communion with a higher proof.” He admitted afterward that the staff “didn’t find it funny.”

Jeff Linton, Central’s missions pastor, said the incident didn’t bother him and the Pamplins responded properly. “Whether all these guys are getting saved or not, I don’t know. But one thing I do know is that Chip and Cindy are creating an opportunity for people to at least explore Christ.”

Chip and Cindy continue to learn as they hand out free food and rides. Chip acknowledges that the homeless need much more: “I can’t change your drug addiction, I can’t change your homeless situation, but He can.”

After dropping off his four passengers at Central, Chip headed back out to an apartment complex where two men with ponytails waited. They staggered into the back of the Envoy, filling the vehicle with the smell of liquor and cigarettes. Pamplin pointed to one guy’s round sunglasses: “Man, you look like a rock star!”

“Yeah a rock star with no guitar,” he replied.

“Air guitar man!” Chip said. “Let’s go to church.”