From riots to reconciliation

Sixth in a series on long ministry

Although Myrue Spivey grew up attending church with his devout mother, he became disillusioned with Chris­tianity after seeing pastors live hypocritically. As a teenager living in Melbourne, Fla., in the early 1960s, he embraced the cause of black nationalism, seeking freedoms and political power for African Americans. With two friends, he sought “to riot and create ethnic divisions” in Norfolk, Va., Fort Lauderdale, Fla., and Melbourne.

Little did he know that one day God would use him to do just the opposite: repair divisions across racial lines as the pastor of a multiethnic church.

As a young man, Spivey was interested in Islam until he read civil rights leader Malcolm X’s autobiography and concluded Muslims were just as hypocritical as he thought Christians were. At age 27, Spivey listened as a neighbor in Miami explained the gospel to him. This time, when he read in Romans that Christ died for the ungodly, “it was as if that was my name.” His life changed dramatically: His $150-per-day drug addiction disappeared, and he suddenly wanted to evangelize. After marrying his Bible study partner in 1975, he studied at Miami Christian College and returned to Melbourne as a Christian businessman to show how Christ changes people.

But Spivey found his hometown racially divided. “Blacks just didn’t go to white churches, and whites didn’t go to black churches,” he said. At first, he and his wife, Patricia, attended a mostly white Brethren church. Spivey started a home Bible study where several black families became Christians. They didn’t feel comfortable going to a white church, so Spivey started a small church for them, intending only to pastor temporarily. After a few years of meeting, the church officially organized in 1985.

Initially community members opposed the church: It emphasized Bible teaching and practiced church discipline. “We were called an unloving church,” Spivey said. On top of that, “if it wasn’t super enthusiastic, jumping, then that wasn’t really church in the black community.”

When they began meeting in the community center, locals complained to the city, saying the church services prevented others from using the space on Sundays. The city decided the church could only rent the center on a week-by-week basis—if anyone else wanted to use it, they had to meet elsewhere. But soon after, a local man who heard of their situation offered the church free use of a building he owned.

In the new building, the church gained its first white family. “That was just amazing,” said Spivey. “In this area, at that time, no one crossed those lines.” The church had to adjust in different ways. One example: Spivey remembers people complaining the wife of the new family only brought salad to church potlucks. In response, he said from the pulpit: “Just because this family of the lighter hue eats this way, and we of the darker hue eat this way, there’s nothing wrong. It’s just different.”

In this area, at that time, no one crossed those lines.

As the church became more established, Spivey struggled to stay focused on his expository preaching. He devoted himself to local causes, joining the boards of Christian organizations, and soon found himself stretched too thin for his pastoral duties. Things came to a head when a disagreement between Spivey, who headed the state branch of Promise Keepers, and the organization’s national board consumed him so much that he took time off pastoring to study Scripture about the issue. During the time away, he realized he was neglecting his ministry at the church. He resigned from all the boards he was serving on. “I came to the conviction that we best serve people when we serve God faithfully,” he said.

Through more than 35 years in ministry, Spivey said, God convicted him of his hidden sin of racism. Instead of only looking at the sins of other races, he realized areas where his own people fell short, especially in missions. Although, at the time, most of the countries open to missions were composed of dark-skinned people, the black church sent less than 1 percent of American missionaries. He felt this was an area where black Christians had failed.

Now Grace Bible Sanctuary has 67 members—about 60 percent black and 40 percent white or Hispanic. After more than four decades of pastoring, Spivey plans to retire soon. He hopes to start a foundation to help seminary grads prepare for ministry.

Spivey said his church did not intentionally pursue diversity. “We need to be faithful,” he said. “We need to be asking our own selves within our own hearts, ‘If someone comes to this church who is different … what’s my attitude towards this person? What do I do?’ Because that’s where the battle is.”