"How deep is your ministry?" Seven years ago, I found myself asking this question. As senior pastor of an inner-city church in Indianapolis, I was responsible for developing a long-range plan for our congregation. Our church offered a wide range of ministries to the poor, including a soup kitchen, tutoring program, and a sports ministry that reached 2,000 children. At Thanksgiving we served hundreds of turkey dinners. In the fall, we distributed shoes, book bags, and winter coats as part of a back-to-school program.

We appeared to be doing an effective job of serving the poor. We were proud of our reputation as "the church that stayed" instead of fleeing to the suburbs. Nevertheless, I sensed something was wrong. None of our outreach programs was leading people to faith in Jesus Christ. Neighborhood residents who received our charity were not being invited into the life of the church. Despite our outreach efforts, the church remained an enclave for affluent, educated whites.

What was wrong? While wrestling with this question I happened to read Luke 5:1-11. It's the story of Simon Peter, who spent all night fishing on the Sea of Galilee without catching any fish. In frustration, Peter called it quits. When Christ encountered him, Peter was picking seaweed from his empty nets. Stepping into the boat, Jesus gave one command: "Put out into deeper water and let down your nets for a catch."

I was struck by this biblical event's similarity to our church's situation. We had a tremendous breadth of outreach, but we lacked depth. Like Peter, we needed to venture out into deeper waters.

In September 1996 I preached a series of sermons entitled "Deeper Waters," in which I suggested four ways we needed to deepen our outreach.

It is impossible to make disciples unless we are committed to knowing people. Many of our church's outreach ministries were impersonal. We were treating people like clients rather than friends. Some of our ministries were structured in such a way that it was impossible to know the people we were serving.

One example of this was our soup kitchen. For 12 years it was operated as a take-out window; neighborhood people lined up for bowls of soup but were not allowed to enter the building. In fact, the doors leading into the church were chained and padlocked, conveying a clear message of Keep Out!

Soon after I preached my "Deeper Waters" sermons, we unlocked the doors and invited people to eat inside the church. Some of our church members began coming each day to sit and eat lunch with the guests. Before long, some of the neighborhood residents were volunteering to work in the soup kitchen.

One of the key volunteers in the soup kitchen is a retired professor of social work. He told me: "All my life I taught classes about the poor. Now, they are my friends!" What a difference it made, unlocking the door to the church!

Jesus calls us to be fishers of people, not ichthyologists. We need to ask ourselves, "Are we catching any fish?"

Our church is known for its recreation program. For nearly three generations, it has been a place where children learn to play football, basketball, and baseball. But in all those years, we didn't try to share the gospel with them in a deliberate way. One of the leaders of the black community once told me: "My son grew up playing sports at your church. He wanted to join the church, but no one ever invited him." If the goal of ministry is leading people to Christ, we had missed it by several miles.

Consequently, we began making changes in the recreation program. For the first time in 70 years, the leaders of the recreation program committed themselves to the goal of evangelism and discipleship. We took a small group of neighborhood kids to a summer camp run by the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, where some of them made commitments to Christ. We prepared new devotional materials for teams and coaches to use before practice. We began offering a midweek "huddle" time for the purpose of Disciplining youngsters who had become Christians. Slowly but surely, our recreation program became Christ-centered rather than sports-centered.

Our church had a reputation for helping the poor. But for the most part, we were dispensing band-aid solutions. It is not a bad thing to hand out Christmas baskets, but lifting people out of poverty requires a much deeper investment.

As I studied the problems of our neighborhood, I realized that the greatest need was for education: many of the children living near our church were illiterate. Unable to read or write, they soon dropped out of school and were lost to the street culture. It wasn't enough to give them book bags; they needed a Christ-centered school that would equip, educate, and protect them.

After a year of planning, we purchased an abandoned school building. In the fall of 1998, the Oaks Academy opened its doors with 53 students. Enrollment has since grown to more than 150, with a student body that is racially and economically mixed. Isaiah 61:3 inspired the school's name: "They shall be called Oaks of Righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor."

Where did the money come from? God provided it. After worship one Sunday, a wealthy businessman approached me and offered $100,000 of his own money to help launch a school. That was the first of many miracles.

In recent years, the church has also started a medical clinic and a Christian legal clinic, both requiring a large investment of money and talent. Both of these ventures are now operating independently as non-profit Christian corporations.

Our greatest need in ministry is for deeper faith—to believe that with God all things are possible. After the miraculous catch of fish, Simon Peter fell down before Jesus and exclaimed, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!" Peter was overwhelmed by the power and presence of Jesus Christ. Jesus was no longer a rabbi in Peter's eyes but his Lord and God.

As our church ventured into deeper waters, we witnessed that same power and presence of Christ. For the first time in our 150-year history, we began attracting a significant number of African Americans to our worship services. Our program and support staff—previously all white—became multiracial. Some of our church members opened a Christian coffee shop in the neighborhood, and soon the Unleavened Bread Café became a gathering place for all sorts of people, from the district attorney to drug dealers. God pushed back the boundaries of what we dreamed was possible.

Before sailing into deeper waters, you need to count the cost. Is your church ready to reach far beyond its comfort zone? Deepening our ministry meant exposing deep undercurrents of fear, pride, and prejudice. Would we become a "black" church? Could we afford new ministries?

The opposition came from a small minority in the church, but they were powerful and persistent. In February 2001, after five years as senior pastor, I reluctantly resigned my position. As I search for a new pastorate, I'm using this time to complete my doctorate. But I doubt a degree could equal the education I received from my church.