On Christmas Eve, a homeless man was found in our church. It seems that he has been staying there at night for quite awhile. Although the police were called, no charges were pressed and they let him go. An act of mercy on a cold Christmas eve.
He has since been back to the church, somehow finding a way to pry open a door to get in. Even I had a fearful moment of hearing him in the building and calling the police. We witnessed the police walk around our building with guns drawn only to find nothing. After a week of several trips by the police, our exterior door locks have been made unpriable. We are pretty sure he hasn't been back.
Breaking and entering is against the law, I understand. It's not safe for a stranger to be in our building, I get it. We are responsible for the safety of our congregation, I know. But somehow I still can't stop thinking about it. Who was he? What was his story? Who can blame him for finding a place with heat, a soft couch to sleep on and occasionally some food to eat in the kitchen?
Last Sunday I had the privilege of hearing my mom give the sermon at her church. She spoke about "the cost of Christmas." Not only what Christmas cost us monetarily, but what it cost us in terms of living differently because of the message of Christ's birth. She told stories about people all over the world who risk their lives to live out the Gospel. Many times as the church we build big building and provide expensive programming and yet neglect Jesus' call to help those who are hungry, thirsty, a stranger, without clothes, sick and in prison.
I'm not a big fan of Stephen Colbert, but recently I saw a quote by him that made me stop and think. He said: "If this is going to be a Christian nation that doesn't help the poor, either we have to pretend that Jesus was just as selfish as we are, or we've got to acknowledge that He commanded us to love the poor and serve the needy without condition and then admit that we just don't want to do it."
Without condition.
Four of our youth took a challenge to live homeless at the Salvation Army this past summer. They encountered many people who were good, faithful people, yet homeless. They built relationships with homeless individuals and families that changed their perceptions and misconceptions about who homeless people are.
And then there is the homeless man - Ted Williams - who has been all over the news this past week. The man with the golden voice. Such a remarkable story (and yet the media has to overkill and talk away the good). The man who says he has a God given voice and just wants to do right by it. The two things that struck me most about the story: He was offered a job by the Cavaliers - and after they found out about his rap sheet they were asked if it would change their offer. They said, "No. We believe in second chances." When I watched the original video uploaded by "ritchey" he had several updates on Ted just as the story was breaking. His final update said this: "Whenever you run across a story such as this, don't assume it'll take a life of its own, on its own. It won't. It can't. There are too many other stories that will drown out the one before it...If you care, you'll do it. Keep the faith, pay forward and always lend a hand..."
Which all leads me back to the homeless man at the church. Instead of doing something that would make a difference in his life, we let ourselves be gripped by fear. When I was in the building thinking he was there, I remember being so scared. And even though we have been told we did the right thing - somehow I feel as if we failed.
What does our Christian faith really cost us? It costs us an hour a week going to a worship service (and many times we think that the service is about us and what we get out of it, but is it?). It might cost us an hour in Sunday school or on a Wednesday night. But what does it cost us when it comes to living differently because of our relationship with Jesus? I know we haven't all been called to live radical lives - but when was the last time we stepped out of the safe comfort zone of our lives and really made a difference for the life of someone else? When was the last time we really lived our faith out in the world?
I'm still not sure I have the answer or if I've reconciled all of this. We walk a thin line of living safe, pretty lives and actually loving our neighbor. Sometimes it is really hard to practice what you preach.
