I’m grateful he took a few minutes to compose a letter and drop it in a post office box. He didn’t have to do it. But he did. His small act of love changed my life.
Small things can have life altering consequences.
These were days before Instagram, Twitter and email. Some of us still remember. Peering into my college mailbox, seeing a crisp, stamped object. Rotating the combination lock. Pulling out the envelope. Slowly lifting the seal with my index finger. Extracting its contents with anticipation. Quite dramatic.
I still keep his letter in a special place.
He had come to my college campus to preach in the chapel. Being raised in the church, I had logged more than a few sermon hours. But nobody delivered like this guy. Captivating an audience of college kids—more interested in their Friday night plans or cramming for an afternoon quiz—he had us laughing, crying, and then enraged at the injustices in our world. Our indifference and complicity were called out. We didn’t seem to mind. We needed to hear it. We were convicted. Compelled to act. Good preaching does that.
His message? An unvarnished gospel about a gritty Jesus who walked the earth, fed the poor, healed the sick and liberated the oppressed. Most of us raised in the evangelical tradition believed our Christianity was simply an insurance policy for eternal life—not a radical call to “take up our cross” and challenge the most pressing social issues of our day. He believed we could change the world. Some of us embraced the challenge.
For many, there’s a moment when the faith of our childhood is turned upside down, deconstructed and needing to be reassembled. This was that moment for me. So I wrote him a letter, peppered with sophomoric questions about life, faith and calling. I didn’t expect a reply. This guy was a celebrity. Me? An introverted 21 year old English major at a small Southern California liberal arts college.
But a letter did arrive—thoughtfully answering my questions. He closed with an invitation: “Why don’t you come work this summer in Camden, New Jersey?” That’s the day UrbanPromise was born.
Dr. Tony Campolo died this past Tuesday at the age of 89. Many will remember him for his books, lectures, his controversial stances, his friendships with presidents, his oratorical brilliance… I’ll remember him as the guy who took time out of his busy schedule to write a letter, offering a college kid an opportunity to put his emerging faith into action.
If one really digs into the early history of UrbanPromise they’ll find Dr. Campolo’s handprints everywhere. Hundreds and hundreds of college students followed his call to serve, love and grow in Camden—many becoming long term staff or spinning off similar ministries in other cities.
Thousands of volunteers were introduced to short-term mission service because Campolo stirred pastors to mobilize their parishioners beyond their pews and into places where Jesus might actually spend his time and share his love.
And to the many who enjoy benefits of wealth and privilege in our region, Campolo unabashedly called them to share generously with the children and families of their neighbors in Camden. These practical expressions of faith propelled our mission forward. Without Tony and his unique gifts, this amazing work would never have happened.
So thank you Tony Campolo for living your life full of faith, hope and love. Your voice will be missed, but the hearts you awakened will continue to transform our world into something beautiful for God.
Bruce Main
Founder & President
P.S. If you’ve got a Tony Campolo story, please jot it down and send me an email. I’d love to collect and share them with his family and the UrbanPromise community.