Temple of Deliverance COGIC's flagship congregation raises a new edifice in the heart of the inner city. by ALLISON BEASLEY rom the purple marble entrance hall to the purple carpeted steps, the purple metal handrails, and the 4,500 purple theatre seats, the decor in Temple of Deliverance (at 369 G.E. Patterson, formerly Calhoun Street) makes a statement. Chandler David Owens, the presiding bishop of COGIC, made the familiar trip from his Atlanta church to Memphis -- home to COGIC's world headquarters -- to address members of Temple of Deliverance on the first day in their new sanctuary. "The church must stand up and stand out," Owens preaches, as he stands in front of a purple curtain backdrop. And indeed it does. The church's distinctiveness is not restricted to its flamboyant interior. Its steeple rises above South Memphis, in the midst of decaying warehouses, abandoned shopping centers, tattoo parlors, pawn shops, overgrown lots, broken beer bottles, and some of the gravest strains of poverty in the city. According to Bishop Gilbert E. Patterson, founder and pastor of Temple of Deliverance and the man for whom Calhoun Street was recently renamed, the church moved into the neighborhood in 1975 just as four major African-American churches were moving out. "I believe it is divine appointment that we are here," Patterson remarks. "We are setting an example of restoration and benevolent progress for the city." Among the many local politicians present at the grand opening is Mayor Willie Herenton. In a short speech to the congregation Herenton tells them, "I'm so pleased you did not move. You expanded this temple of God right here in South Memphis." Even those not familiar with South Memphis might have noticed the congregation's attempts to stand up and stand out. Billboards all over the city depict a racially diverse group of people who demonstrate Patterson's vision for an integrated membership. "The Christian community must bend over backwards and cross racial boundaries," Patterson explains. "The door of the church is open to everybody." In his remarks, Bishop Owens does not stop at calling for the church to stand up and stand out. He cautions the congregation to avoid "spectatoritis." "Some sit on the sidelines and want God to do it all, but God's work on this earth must truly be our own," Owens warns. I was disappointed when Patterson explained to me that this great Christian presence in South Memphis has stopped feeding hot meals to the hungry. The program came to an end after repeated incidents of theft and crime occurred in and around the church building. Patterson hopes to resume the project but preferably not until he can secure a nearby building from which to operate, so as not to jeopardize the new facility and its members. And although members of Temple of Deliverance welcomed me with open arms, I was clearly in the minority in a congregation that hardly reflected the diversity displayed on its billboards. Is it enough for Patterson's church to remain in the center of Memphis poverty if it does not open the new facility to its ultra-poor neighbors? Is it enough to advertise racial diversity if the church is not in fact racially diverse? And is it enough for a church to stand up and stand out if it is merely standing on the sidelines? No, but perhaps the sidelines are a good place to start -- to recognize social problems and to gain the strength to make changes. The purple in the new worship center is bold. As bold as the new steeple over South Memphis, as bold as a citywide ad campaign for racial reconciliation, and in Owens' words, as bold as a congregation whose members recognize that while "God has always stood up for the church it's now time for the church to stand up for God."