God In Chicago

The streets are quiet as I turn onto a one-way residential stretch of Washington Blvd. My destination sits at the corner, facing a mix of old and new three-story brick townhomes and greystones along Washington Boulevard and a vacant lot along Albany Avenue. I get out of my car and walk to the curb. A single, empty glass bottle lays on the grass.Cars are parked in the grass-and-rock lot next to my destination. A group of senior citizens enter the building through a side door next to the large stone stairs at the front entrance. As I stood at the base of the stairs, I glanced to my right to see a pole tied to the trunk of a tree, holding a small fiberglass basketball backboard and rim.I enter through the glass double doors into the inviting and well-appointed auditorium. Oak benches with blue padded cushions give the main floor the feel of a library. Light colored brick walls frame tall frosted windows, which filter the incoming sunlight. An eight-person, all-male band led the audience in song as the event beg