From Theirs is the Kingdom: Celebrating the Gospel in Urban America:
A truly worthy poor family: Is devout, close-knit. Has a responsible father working long hours at minimum wage wherever he can find work. Has a mother who makes the kids obey, washes clothes by hand, and will not buy any junk food. Lives in overcrowded housing; will not accept welfare or food stamps even when neither parent can find work. Always pays the bills on time; has no automobile. Has kids that do not whine or tell lies.
Hmph. Yeah, right. I love what I do with Freedom Fellowship, but sometimes it just seems we’re being manipulated - like when the family you meet while walking the streets says they need food, but the mom is chain smoking. On top of that, they’re headed to Subway for dinner. I love what Robert Lupton says next:
I want to serve truly worthy poor people. The problem is they are hard to find. Someone on our staff thought he remembered seeing one back in ‘76 but can’t remember for sure. Someone else reminded me that maybe to be truly poor means to be prideless, impatient, manipulative, desperate, grasping at every straw, and clutching the immediate with little energy left for future plans. But truly worthy? Are any of us truly worthy?
Oh, that. Well, I guess not.
The truth is, I compare this to how we act towards God when we get desperate. Grasping at the straws of his promises to take care of us, we try to weasel out a divine favor in every way we can - we make promises we can’t and won’t keep, we try to use our good behavior as a bargaining chip, and we definately aren’t above speaking to the Almighty with impatience. I imagine he could proabably view me the same way I might be tempted to view the family I mentioned above. He could, but he won’t, because he took the time to step into my shoes, our shoes. He knows what it means to be desperate.
Well, Dylan was back to his normal self on Wednesday, with an improvement so small that I think I may be imagining it. One thing that’s changed is that he listens to what I say… most of the time. Anyway, Wednesday night was survived by all.
Thursday, I brought him lunch again, and he was less surprised, which is good. As we sat and talked, he told some good news: On Monday, he’ll be moving up to fifth grade. Since he was held back twice, he’ll still be a little behind, but he’s made all A’s so far this semester. What is he looking forward to most? “Homework.” No, really. “Really! I couldn’t do it before, but now it’s too easy.”
On Friday, to celebrate, I picked him up from school. We went bowling and then kind of wandered around campus for awhile. I think that Jacob’s Dream (see below) must have been built with an eleven-year-old in mind. This kid, who no one can get to listen to or even look at a Bible, ran and climbed all around this magnificent place, breathlessly reading the scriptures inscribed on the stones: “‘Follow me.’ What’s that from?” And he actually wanted to know the answer! Que milagro!
Two hours passed quickly, and eventually it was time to take him home. As I pulled up to the hotel where he lives, something struck me as wrong with the place. It wasn’t the peeling paint or the beer bottles. Even knowing how out of place I was, in my Volvo and nice clothes, I still can’t explain the bad vibe I felt pulling up. Though the people standing around outside had been talking when I turned in, their conversation stopped as we got out of the car.
I wanted to tell the staring people, “See, the car really isn’t that great, it might break down at any moment. And this shirt, well, I think I got it at Goodwill! Really, I’m not just some rich kid looking for a feel-good moment. I care!” But I steeled myself to their gaze and walked Dylan to the door with the crooked numbers sloping downwards. I felt as though the decline of the numbers spoke accurately of the place. This was not a place for those who are able to pull themselves out.
Dylan knocked long and hard, and his twenty-something sister instantly appeared, her crying infant in her arms in nothing but a diaper. “Why are you knocking so loud? You woke him up! I’m gonna beat your ass so hard…” Then she saw me. “Oh, hiiii…”
A large man, who was drinking from a comparably large can in a brown paper bag, called out, “I’ll hold him down for you. He needs it.”
Trying to ignore pretty much everything that had just been said, I rather uncomfortably squeaked out a “hi” of my own. Turning red, Dylan pushed by his sister and into the room. After another awkward moment or two of me mentally grasping at straws for something to say, I came up with, “Did I keep him too long?”
“You didn’t keep him long enough,” she said, reaching back with one arm into the darkness of the room. After a little grabbing around, she produced Dylan, her nails digging into his arm. Throwing him outside, she slammed the door. He looked up at me with a tough expression but wet eyes, and then looked to the window, where his sister had just pulled back the curtain. With a chilling smile, she looked at him while she spoke to me through the glass: “You can keep him.” Then the curtain dropped back in front of her face, and there was silence and stillness for a moment.
“Hey, Dylan!” shouted the man. He slurped the last bit of his beer and threw the can on the ground, “Tell your sister not to slam the fucking door!”
Dylan looked at the ground and started to walk away. I timidly asked, “See you Wednesday?” He turned and nodded, then turned a corner and was out of sight.
Glancing at my ragtag audience, I saw no friendly faces. I walked back to my car and drove away.
Epilogue
Jacob left Beersheba and set out for Haran. When he reached a certain place, he stopped for the night because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones there, he put it under his head and lay down to sleep. He had a dream in which he saw a stairway resting on the earth, with its top reaching to heaven, and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. There above it stood the LORD, and he said: “I am the LORD, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac… I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”
When Jacob awoke from his sleep, he thought, “Surely the LORD is in this place, and I was not aware of it.”
- Genesis 28
In the midst of all the fear and pain and discomfort of life, he is reminded that heaven and earth are connected, that there is a God who is intimately involved with his life. A God who makes promises to stay with and watch over him.
Surely the LORD is in this place, and I was not aware of it. I hope so.