If this sounds harsh, it is because we are in a dire moment. People are being exiled from their homes and communities while Christians attend conferences on church planting. We are centering the wrong people in these conversations, and we have misapplied scripture egregiously. As Cole Brown says, Jeremiah 29:4-7 was written originally to people in exile, to the displaced, not people with power who are moving into a space of their own volition. This seems more suited to be God’s message of love and care for those brutalized and uprooted by gentrification, not a theological command to go out and conquer a new space.

Last year, standing at a microphone in front of our city council at a town-hall meeting, I came to a stark realization: I needed a theology of gentrification.

There I was, shakily demanding that the city not tear down our neighborhood’s one and only park to build a “revitalization” project complete with brew pubs and shared workspaces. I looked at the row of people seated at the city council table, frowning slightly at me, and worked up my courage, pretending I was channeling the tiniest bit of the pope.

“We have a moral responsibility to consider those who don’t have resources and how we can best serve them,” I said, my cheeks flushed. The architect talked about the need for income-generating elements, the secretary entered my remarks in the meeting record, and the developers changed none of their plans. As helplessness crept up into my heart, it became clear that I had no idea what I was doing and needed some instruction.

The irony was not lost on me. I had spent years studying how to do good and how to spread the good news. I got my degree in Bible and theology with a minor in intercultural studies; I volunteered with refugee resettlement agencies for more than a decade and joined a mission order among the urban poor for three years. I can quote the Bible and recite a theology of cultural engagement frontward and backward; I can wax poetic about God’s preferential option for the poor. And yet, in my 13th year of residing in a neighborhood mostly inhabited by people on the lower end of the socio-economic spectrum, I feel lost in the face of the most pressing realities confronting my neighbors.

Gentrification is at our doorstep, and I do not know what to do. I can love my neighbors with my entire heart and soul, but what does that mean when every month more are driven away by increasing rents? How is our gospel good news for anyone but the gentrifiers themselves?

White do-gooders and inadequate theology

I’ve come to realize that people like myself—white do-gooders, to be more precise—have not been taught adequate theology for our times. My neighbors do not care if you have a robust urban missiology. They would like secure, affordable housing and good schools for their children. They have practical, tangible needs that are altogether forgotten in a capitalistic, consumeristic society where those with plenty ignore the realities of others who would never buy a latte at the new corner coffee shop.

In the few spaces where the ideas of theology and urban renewal are brought together, something is missing. The overarching themes of American exceptionalism and triumphalism, tinged with colonialism, have made it nearly impossible to adequately engage with an economic and social reality as complex as gentrification.

I was taught to “go out and preach the good news.” People today who listen to prominent pastors such as John Piper and Tim Keller are being urged to move back into the city and become part of its transformation, with Jeremiah 29:4-7 as their guide, especially verse 7: “But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.” There is a flood of interest in urban churches in major metropolitan cities such as New York and San Francisco and my own town of Portland, Ore.

These theologies talk a lot about moving in and contributing to the flourishing of a city, but say little on the negative disruption that these moves can make in the existing community. For instance, in his large book on urban church planting, Center Church: Doing Balanced, Gospel-Centered Ministry in Your City , Keller has nearly 400 pages describing right doctrine and theology but only a few paragraphs about gentrification. Even more troubling is the lack of emphasis on the importance of learning from those Christians already at work in churches in the neighborhood (including people of color who’ve been there for decades). The unspoken assumption in the books, sermons, and conferences targeting missional-minded evangelicals is that the city—prior to white, hip church planters—is a foreign mission field, pristine and untouched by the work of the Lord.

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