The Vicars Community Center sits, unassuming, in the morning sun. Hundreds of community members come each week for support. Image from Community Church’s website.
Faces of Resilience: How the Vicars Community Center Is Powering Hope in Southwest Atlanta
Tucked just off Cascade Avenue in southwest Atlanta, the Vicars Community Center doesn’t scream the future of climate resilience at first glance. There’s no sleek, high-tech facade or obvious signs of advanced engineering. But step inside, and you’ll find something revolutionary. This center, run by the Atlanta Community Church, is living out the call to be a light in dark times by offering power, food, and safety when the grid goes dark and the climate turns hostile. This faith-rooted community center is now home to one of the nation’s first community-owned resilience hubs—providing power, food, and safety when the grid goes dark and the climate turns hostile.
The Vicars Resilience Hub is what happens when faith, federal investment and community leadership come together. It’s a blueprint for climate resilience for communities fighting to keep their shape despite systemic inequality.
A Legacy of Service on Cascade Avenue
Long before it was a resilience hub, Vicars was a sanctuary of faith and community support. “We’ve had the Vicars Community Center since the 1980s,” said Senior Pastor Kevin Early, the third generation of leadership at Community Church Atlanta. “It was already a hub. We were giving away groceries even before I came on board.”
GCV Policy Manager Julian Harden (left) greets Pastor Kevin Early inside the Vicars Community Center on Cascade Avenue.
Pastor Early arrived in 2020—just as COVID-19 ravaged communities, strained family support systems, and exposed gaps in the social safety net. What began as a modest food pantry serving 30 people a week became a lifeline for over 400 households, many of whom have never stepped inside the church’s sanctuary.
“We don’t ask who you love, what you believe, where you worship. If you need help, you come,” said Pastor Early. “That’s the kind of neighbor we want to be.”
In addition to groceries, the Vicars Center became a site for blood drives, COVID testing and vaccination, low-cost health screenings, and more. It became deeply embedded in the neighborhood fabric: trusted, essential, and ready for more.
Why Resilience Hubs Matter—Especially Here
Atlanta ranks as the fourth most energy-burdened city in the United States, with communities like Cascade Heights often facing pressure on multiple fronts: older homes, fewer cooling options, more concrete, and limited MARTA access. “These are neighborhoods where folks can’t always just hop in a car and get to a cooling center or shelter,” Pastor Early explained.
“What happens if you rely on refrigerated medication—like insulin or Ozempic—and the power goes out?” Gentrification amplified those risks as the neighborhood experienced development that brought large, upscale homes next door to seniors on a fixed income who grew up in the same house.
Behind the Community Center, upscale or modern development abuts legacy homeowners.
That question drives the mission behind resilience hubs. Designed to provide backup power, shelter, communication, and resources during emergencies, they are becoming vital infrastructure in an era of cascading climate crises. Cascade’s need was apparent, and the opportunity finally came through unprecedented legislation.
A Hub Built by the Inflation Reduction Act
The Inflation Reduction Act (IRA), passed in 2022, was the largest climate investment in U.S. history. Crucially, it included a direct pay provision, allowing nonprofits and churches—entities that don’t pay taxes—to access clean energy tax credits.
Groundswell, a nonprofit that builds community power through equitable solar projects, identified Vicars as a prime candidate. They had the trust, the location, and the heart. With Groundswell’s guidance and support from the City of Atlanta, InterUrban Solar, and Georgia-based Stryten Energy, the center installed a 34.1-kW solar array and a 320-kWh battery storage system. It can now operate independently of the grid for up to three days—longer with sunlight.
“We are the first privately owned resilience hub in the city,” Pastor Early said while showing off the large metal housing for the battery storage. “And we’re proud of that.”
The total project cost of $445,000 was covered through clean energy tax credits and private grants from Wells Fargo and General Motors. The church incurred no debt—a remarkable feat and a powerful example of what’s possible when policy meets philanthropy.
A New Kind of Ministry
The addition of solar panels and battery storage didn’t just change how Vicars functions—it demonstrated what ministry looks like in a climate-challenged world.
Pastor Early described the shift with theological clarity: “We are unashamedly a faith organization… unapologetically here to serve everyone. Part of our calling is to be a good neighbor. It’s not enough for me to survive—we’re here to make sure others do, too.”
Even outside of crisis events, the center hums with activity. The food pantry continues to serve hundreds. The children’s ministry fills rooms with joy and noise on Sundays. Community groups hold meetings, and neighbors come to charge phones, refrigerate medication, or just connect.
Thanks to solar energy, the center saves up to $7,000 a year on electricity—money that goes right back into services. Other church organizations are taking notice. The African Methodist Episcopal 6th District Church in Georgia recently announced a new initiative to add microgrids to at least six churches by the end of 2026.
Why We Need More Hubs Like This
Vicars is more than an inspiring story. It’s a replicable model. Groundswell and the City of Atlanta are already planning a broader network of resilience hubs, including libraries, fire stations, and schools. But faith-based, community-rooted hubs like Vicars are uniquely powerful.
For one, they already have community trust. “When people know you and see you consistently showing up, they’re more likely to come when things get hard,” Pastor Early said.
They’re also often better positioned to serve vulnerable populations—like the elderly, disabled, or low-income residents—who can’t just “drive somewhere safer” during a disaster.
Vicars also proves that clean energy doesn’t have to be cold or corporate. It can live right next to a fellowship hall, coexist with scripture, and inspire solar adoption across communities of color—historically excluded from the clean energy transition.
Every week, the women of Community Church make a new mural for the children who call the space home.
But the Clock Is Ticking
As powerful as that potential is, though, it’s also a warning. Just as this model begins to take root, it’s under threat. The federal budget proposals moving through Congress right now would slash funding for the very programs that made Vicars possible.
The Inflation Reduction Act’s clean energy investments, grant opportunities, and direct pay provisions are all on the chopping block. If those funds dry up, so do future resilience hubs—and the lives they might save.
That’s not just a climate issue. That’s a public safety issue. A racial equity issue. A faith and values issue.
As the climate crisis worsens, we can’t afford to go backward. Communities like Cascade Heights don’t have time to wait for political winds to change. They need power, protection, and partners.
What Comes Next
For Pastor Early and the team at Vicars, the mission is just starting. They’re exploring workforce training programs in solar and battery technology. They’re dreaming of partnerships with urban farms and watershed alliances. And most of all, they’re building community; not just facilities.
“We don’t know when the next emergency will come,” he said. “But we know there will be one. And when it does, we want people to know they’re not alone.”
The back of the Community Center contains pallets of food and supplies for mobile kitchens and community events.
In the Vicars Community Center, resilience means more than solar panels and battery banks. It’s neighbors helping neighbors. It’s hope, powered by sunlight. And it’s a model every city should be racing to replicate—while we still have the chance.