A Second Chance

A voice from far away was calling her.  “Joanne?  Joanne?  Can you hear me?”

Do I really have to wake up?  Just when I was getting comfortable… “Hmm?”

“Wake up there, dear.  Time to wake up.”

“But I was having such a pleasant dream…”

The voice was male.  And old.  It didn’t crack or break in any way.  But it still sounded as coming from an old man.  And he was surprised. “Really?  What was it?”

She pondered for a moment. “I’m not sure.  I don’t know it really matters.  It was kind of fuzzy, but bright.  It was just… pleasant.  It’s been a long time since I was comfortable falling asleep.  You know, I’m sure, how difficult it is to remember a dream just after waking…” She stopped in shock.  Her eyes opened to a older man in a long, white robe bending over her.  “Wha?  Who are you?”

He nodded at her, as if she had not asked a question at all.  “Yes, I know.  There are many things that I am happy to forget.  You too, I am sure.”

She tried to back away from him, but found that the bed wouldn’t allow her to. “Excuse me, sir?  What are you doing in my bedroom?”

“Actually, Joanne, you are in my bedroom.”

Joanne opened her eyes.  He was right. The walls were bright, not covered with smoke residue and mold.  It was constructed as if from adobe, and the doorway was curved and thick—maybe a foot thick.  With no door at all.  Apart from the bed, where she was covered with only a thin, white sheet, there was only a desk, a closet and a full length mirror to mar the perfect emptiness of the square room.  It was small, but she’d lived in smaller spaces.  Heck, she’d lived in tents. Before.

“This isn’t my… why… it looks all strange.  As if I’m in a foreign land.”

“Actually, dear, you are home.  For the first time.”

She looked at him hard.  He seemed almost familiar.  Clearly an older gentleman, balding with a white beard.  But his olive colored skin had few wrinkles to blemish his open expression.  Still, there he was.  With her.  Alone in this strange room. “Again, sir, I ask.  Who are you?”

He spoke quietly, “I am Avraham.”

“Your name is Abraham? Not Abe?”

He chuckled, then repeated, “Avraham.  With a ‘v’.  At least, that’s how I’m used to having it pronounced.  And I think you might think of me as ‘the’ Avraham.”

“The” Avraham?  Lincoln?  No, wait…“Abraham in the Bible?”

“That’s the one.”

Realization came over her.  She wasn’t in a hospital, or her room or with a friend.  She was alone, talking to this nice but odd gentleman.  If he really was Abraham…

“So… I’m dead?”

“Do you feel dead?”

Joanne stretches her hands and arms out, feeling the strength in her body.  “Well, if this is dead, then I wish I would have died a long time ago.  I feel great.”

Avraham chuckles.  “I do too.  Unlike you, I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”

Joanne stares at him, confused.  “Where are we, then?  Heaven?”

“Better than that, my dear.”

“What could be better than heaven?”

“The Kingdom.”

“Isn’t that heaven?  I mean, it’s called the Kingdom of Heaven.”

“Yes, that was Matthew’s term.  But it’s not in the spiritual plain.  It’s here on earth.  And trust me, you wouldn’t have wanted to be without a body.”

“But I’ve been working so hard to be in God’s presence.”

“And you will be.  Truly.”

“I thought I would finally be free from my body—this cursed body.”

“This body you have now isn’t cursed.  It is glorious and perfect.”

“Now isn’t the time for fleshly compliments, sir.”

“I didn’t mean that in a sexual way.  I am much past that,” he chuckled.  “Look at yourself in the mirror.”

Joanne gets up off the bed and marvels at the strength of her legs.  She has never felt so light, so energetic.  

After standing for a moment, she spun in a little dance.  I’m so lightheaded, no, wait.  I am thinking so clearly.  This isn’t lightheadedness.  I don’t know what it is.  I wish it would just last for a moment more before the darkness descended.  Walking across the room was like walking on air.  The room seemed so light, so joyful.  Joy.  I’m happy.  Have I ever been happy before?

“Come here, child, look at yourself in the mirror.”

She almost skipped to the full length mirror then stood before it, almost unable to keep still.  Before her was a complete stranger.  “She’s beautiful”

Avraham smiled.  “She’s you.”

Joanne shook her head, but Avraham spoke before her, “Look at the face, dear.  The same nose, the same sky-blue eyes—you just don’t have your brow descended over them.  And you are smiling.  Have you ever seen yourself smiling before?”

She hadn’t.  It really is Joanne, standing before herself, amazed.  Her eyes were wide, and yes, they truly are sky blue.  Why have I never seen that before?  It is like she had never seen herself before.  She looked down and noticed something even more remarkable.

“I’m nude.  In front of a man.  And I don’t care.  I don’t feel ashamed at all.”

“You are past shame, dear.  We are family, and we can be nude before each other if we want, because there’s nothing shameful about it.  Like I said, I am past sexual feelings.  And so are you.”

“But I don’t look old.”

“And I do?”

She tore herself away from her new beauty and looked at him.  “You are… ageless.  I have no idea how old you are.  You are… almost… young and ancient.  So wise.  So kind.  Like the perfect grandfather.”

He brightened even more than before, “Thank you, my dear.  That’s how I feel.  And I love you like your grandfather was never able to.”

She started and looked out the door, “Is my grandfather…”

“Please, don’t fret about the past, my dear.  Everything that was old has passed away.”

“I’m not afraid.” She remembered clearly her grandfather’s face, twisted in anger, as she sat crumpled, blood streaming from her nose.  That image haunted her throughout her life, fearing that the next person she met would be him.  Why am I not afraid?  She thought of him with sorrow, certainly, but without the anxiety of the next punch.  Is it because Avraham is so unlike him?  Or because she is so different.

Avraham continued to smile, “I’m sure you are not.  It is so wonderful to see you like this, my dear.  You are so brave.  I admire you so much.”

She cast her eyes down, remembering who she really was.  “I’m not so brave.  I’ve been a coward all my life.” Although her face expressed guilt, she felt none.  What have I become? Some shameless slut?

“On the contrary, you are the bravest person I know.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know you better than you know yourself.  You are famous, you know.”

She laughed aloud. “That cannot be true.”

Avraham cocked his head at her, “What reason would I have to lie to you?  What’s the last thing you remember?”

She thought back to her grandfather again… no, not that far back.  “My friend was talking to me.  She’s from that church I go to sometimes.  Lindsay, that’s her name.  Huh,” she pondered, “I could never remember her name before.”

“And what were you doing when she spoke to you?”

“I was preaching.  About the Beast.”  She pauses, considering her message.   “It came, didn’t it?”

Avraham’s face fell.  “Yes.”  He was almost in tears.   Yes it did.”

“A government that was determined to destroy every last remnant of love of God.  And it did so by destroying those who loved God.”

“Yes.  And what else happened?”

“The police came.  Oh dear, did I call them the Beast?”

“Yes, dear.  But it’s alright.”

“No wonder they kicked me.”

“He didn’t kick you because of what you called him.  He kicked you because you were right.”

“He was the Beast?”

“A part of it.  The Beast is a whole system of people organized to destroy Yahweh’s glory.  To be so concerned about security that they would destroy anyone who threatened it.”

“Did he consider me a threat?”

“Yes.”

“I was so afraid… how could he think that I was threatening?”

“Because he read your features too well.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“The police work very hard at reading non-verbal communication, especially facial expression.  They focus on two features: an expression of guilt and an expression of enacting violence.”

“There are expressions for that?”

“Not exactly.  But there is an expression of fear, which is the same expression of being caught.  And there is a wildness in one’s eyes that some have when you have lost control.  You, my dear, had both expressions.  But the officer misread them.”

“I would never have hurt him.  I thought he was going to attack me!  I knew that he was!”

“And he did, because of the fear in your heart.”

“But fear is no reason to attack someone!”

“No, dear.  But among the gentiles it is common.  Now, let me tell you something about your story you didn’t know.  Your ‘friend’ Lindsay was seeking you out specifically.   She had seen your behavior and was fearful of you.  So she decided to get you into a mental hospital.  So she met up with you on the corner with a recording devise. She brought it so she would have proof of your insanity.  And there you were, on the corner, saying what she considered to be ‘crazy talk.’”

“But I really saw it.  And God told me to speak.”

“I know, dear.  But even if she had known it, she would have labeled you schizophrenic and been more determined than ever to lock you up.  After the police killed you, she gave a copy of your speech to the officials, and she also posted a copy of it on the internet to defend the officer who killed you.  Carefully doctored, of course, so the officer could be held in the best light.  But it contained the entire recording of your speech.  Well, not the last sentence or two.

 “A few years later, as the Beast truly arrived and started working within churches against the true lovers of Yahweh, the recording was rediscovered by these oppressed religionists.  They passed it around on the internet, and made transcripts of it and it became a message of hope and strength as the lovers of Yahweh dwindled.  Martyrs died quoting your words on their lips.”

“And this is how I became famous?”

“Yes.  Perhaps only among a certain group, but you became one of the most important Christian figures of the last days.”

For a few moments, she sat in stunned silence.  “But how could you possibly call me brave?  I had no control over what I said.  It was a compulsion.”

“I love your false humility!  Don’t you remember who you were?  You were the most frightened woman in your town.  You ended up on the street because you feared your family and anyone else who might offer you help.  You ended up in church only because the Spirit compelled you to, not because of any good reception you received there.

            “Before any resurrection is completed, there is a brain and personality scan done on every raised body. There is an ideal model which each brain is compared to.  There are infinite excellent variations to each model, but genetic modifications from generation to generation caused many terrible flaws.  Before a person’s resurrection is completed, we make minor adjustments to perfect such minor flaws as make it a trial to live in the Kingdom. I have read your file.  Your fear capacity was over the top.  This has been corrected, as well as your schizophrenia.  Yes, you really did have a mental illness.  It wasn’t all demons. Or God.  Your schizophrenia made it more likely for you to accept messages from the spirit world, both good and bad. But your brain was dysfunctional.  We’ve corrected that.

            “My point is this: Before you stood at that street corner, as the police spoke to you, you were crazy with fear.  You were overwhelmed with it.  But, despite that, you stood and did what God wanted you to do.  You said what needed to be said.  You did it despite your crippling weakness.  And because of that, you brought a message of strength to the one of the most oppressed groups that ever lived.

            “You, my dear, are a hero of the highest order.”

Despite the surprising lack of guilt she felt, Joanne’s relief was immeasurable.  She was so overwhelmed by her joy that tears spilled from her eyes, descending quickly down her face.  “I—   I’m not a bad girl?”

Avraham’s eyes became moist as well.  “No, my dear.  You were very, very good.  We are all so proud of you.”

If it were not for the new strength in her limbs, she would have collapsed.  As it was, she fell  upon Avraham’s shoulders and sobbed on his shoulders.  He knew, though, that she was not unhappy.  He knew that she had needed this for a long time.  He held her, patting her on the back, crying tears of joy for her.

            After many minutes of washing her guilt and weakness away from her, she stood and wiped her face.  “I feel… I feel so good!  I’ve never felt so good! I could just… sing!  Have I ever sung before?  Out loud?  Maybe in church, in a whisper.  But I just want to… shout!  Run!  I’m ready for anything!”

Avraham laughed, “So, then!  Are you ready to meet Yeshua?”

“Yeshua, who’s that?”

“You would know him as Jesus.”

“Jesus… Jesus!  He wouldn’t want to meet me…”

“Stop that!  Of course he wants to meet you.  He’s been waiting for you.  He wants to thank you personally for your bravery. And give you your first task.”

“Jesus himself…”

“The very one.”

“…Wants to thank me.”

“He’s in his public room.  There will only be a few hundred there before Him.  But I need to let you know that hundreds of thousands will be watching from afar.  You’re very popular, you know.  Oh, yes, I told you that.”

“I couldn’t possibly… wait.  Actually, you know what?  I CAN do that.  I’m looking forward to it, actually.”

“There’s my girl!  Let’s get you dressed properly.”

“What have I to wear?  I’ve never been at a formal public function before.”

Avraham laughed, “In Jesus’ court?  A white robe, of course.  It’s in the closet.”

Joanne dressed quickly, then requested some tools to fix up her hair.  Avraham nodded, “I’ll get you an attendant who will help you get fixed up.  I’ll leave to get the public room ready for you.  I’ll see you again soon.  But I just wanted to ask you one question before you left.  In your life, have you ever felt that you wanted to start life over again?  To clean up your past mistakes and to do things right?  Have you ever felt like you wanted a second chance?”

“So many times, you can’t imagine.”

“Well, my darling, this is it.”

The Necessity of Eschatology

Surely God is good to Israel, To those who are pure in heart!

But as for me, my feet came close to stumbling, My steps had almost slipped.

For I was envious of the arrogant As I saw the prosperity of the wicked.

For there are no pains in their death, And their body is fat.

They are not in trouble as other men, Nor are they plagued like mankind.

Therefore pride is their necklace; The garment of violence covers them.

Their eye bulges from fatness; The imaginations of their heart run riot.

They mock and wickedly speak of oppression; They speak from on high.

They have set their mouth against the heavens, And their tongue parades through the earth.

Therefore his people return to this place, And waters of abundance are drunk by them.

They say, "How does God know? And is there knowledge with the Most High?"

Behold, these are the wicked; And always at ease, they have increased in wealth.

When I pondered to understand this, It was troublesome in my sight

Until I came into the sanctuary of God; Then I perceived their end.

       An Ancient Song, otherwise known as Psalm 73:1-12, 16-17

Eschatology is often an ignored subject, and for good reason.  I mean, who could wrap their mouths around this word?  Ess-kat-ah-low-gee.  Cousin to eschatological, which professors of theology and Bible scholarship like to throw around.  Why do they do this?  It seems as if to prove how smart they are.  But the honest truth is, “eschatological” describes a complicated idea in a single word.  The idea of a future as imagined by God. A utopia established by God and the difficulties in establishing that future.                           

Christians have often focused upon the future, because Jesus himself focused upon the future.  But they have misshapen the future of the New Testament into incoherent forms.  It has become a timeline, a string of incomprehensible events.  It is a collection of mythology, of miraculous disasters and religious wet-dreams.  It is a silly pastime full of false conspiracies and invented characters, a misreading of the newspaper.

To truly understand eschatology we have to go to the movies.  Let’s take one movie in particular.  Woody Allen’s Crimes and Misdemeanors.  If you haven’t seen this movie and really want to, you might want to skip the next few paragraphs:

            Meet Dr. Judah Rosenthal.  He is a celebrated surgeon, who has saved the lives of many, and offered help to the poor and needy.  He also has been involved in a long term affair with his mistress, the one dark spot on his shiny, clean life.  In order to prevent her from using their affair as blackmail, he kills her.  Cold-blooded murder.

            Guilt overcomes him.  He tells no one, but all he can do is remember his father’s admonition that God will make sure that justice will prevail, the wicked will be punished.  Dr. Rosenthal knows that he is now the wicked.  He knows that he must be discovered and punished.

            However, he never is caught.  He never is punished.  From this, he recalls his aunt arguing with his father that the wicked are not always punished.  Justice does not always prevail.  In fact, it could be argued that justice almost never prevails.  Therefore, Dr. Rosenthal concludes with his aunt: there is no God.  Since there is no punishment for the wicked, there is no God.

            At first, this seems like a crazy conclusion to a die-hard religious fanatic.  Just because one does not see justice, can it be that God doesn’t exist?  But this is the problem of almost all religions.  Buddha determined that God was in the same situation we were in, trying to find the way to justice.  Judaism sometimes concluded that the people of God were too impure for God to intervene with true justice in the world—that there could be no justice without the just.  Some Christianities determined that justice is on hold until God’s mercy is satisfied.  Spiritism concludes that the spirit world is too complex for justice to be truly meted out.  But all of them fundamentally conclude the same: God is about justice.  And if God doesn’t grant justice, then He is too weak or too evil to truly be called God.

            Justice—whether seen as an equal voice for the vulnerable, or punishment for the wicked—is not seen in this world.  It is far from our experience.  There is no true law that communicates justice.  There is no government that can adequately create justice.  There is no people that will truly live out justice. 

            This is why eschatology exists.  It is the fulfillment of God’s promises of justice.  Not yet, but coming up.  Eschatology openly recognizes that injustice exists.  The innocent suffer, the wicked prosper, evil prevails and good is crushed. 

            The reason Jesus is so focused on eschatology is not just because God must fulfill His promises.  Rather, it is because justice must prevail for the anawim.

            Why will there be a resurrection?  Because those who have suffered terribly in this life for no good reason deserve a second chance at life.  If there are people who have sacrificed themselves for others, then they should get an opportunity to live a good life that they can be satisfied with.

            Why will there be a judgment?  Because the simple law of mercy is so muddled and confused, that there needs to be a clear delineation of what is good and what is evil—what everyone already knew all along.  And that those who followed that inner standard of good should be rewarded and those who denied that inner standard should be punished fairly.

            Why will there be a kingdom?  Because God created the world to be ruled by a just humanity.  It takes almost all of the history of the human race to make that happen, but it must happen.  And it must be given an opportunity to thrive.

            Why will the poor be granted leadership of the world?  Because only they truly understand the plight of the needy and will grant them the necessary justice that they’ve always deserved.

            All eschatology is about justice.  It is not just a random collection of myths.  If God exists, if justice is real, then eschatology must occur.

Putting It Together, Bit by Bit

When the Anawim ministry began at Peace Mennonite church, I created a couple of flyers to explain our purpose to other churches.  One was speaking of a resource that Anawim could be for the church community.  That if anyone needed to know what resources are available for the poor in the homeless area, I’d be glad to help.  Now in Portland we have an excellent published guide for free so people know what meals, food boxes, shelters, counseling and other resources there are for the needy.  At the same time, I created a flyer for what I called “Bet’ Anawim”, or “House of the Poor”.  It was to be a community house where the homeless could live together in a discipleship environment.  It was complete pie-in-the-sky dreaming, but, I figured, if someone saw the vision and wanted to give us a house for this, then I wouldn’t complain.

Instead of obtaining a house, we were looking at losing what little housing we had.

For some reason, after receiving notice of “your family is now on the street” it didn’t plunge me or my wife into despair.  No, we had no place to go.  We had no money to move into a new place.  With three children.  And a couple extra people who were dependent on us.  Not to mention a ministry in a run-down building.  But, honestly, we’ve been in this place before.  Twice before have my wife and I been in a situation where we didn’t know where we were going to live in a few days.  And God has never failed us.  He has never allowed my children to live on the street.  And this situation is less severe.  After all, God has thirty days to work!  Plenty of time to come up with a couple thousand dollars and an increase in our income to help us find a bigger apartment!  No problem!

            At this point, most of the people we knew would pursue a direct option to solve their problem.  It’s the American way, after all, to raise a ruckus until the problem is solved.  We could have sent out emails and letters to everyone we knew, to the whole Mennonite church, and asked for financial assistance.  We could have, as it was suggested, taken the new owner of the apartment building for discrimination based on religious grounds. Although I think that it wouldn’t have held up, actually.  The owner didn’t have problem with me being Mennonite, but with the friends I had coming over to my house.  And most other Mennonites didn’t have this problem we had of welcoming “undesirables” to their houses.  Shame, really. 

            But Diane wouldn’t allow such desperate options.  Honestly, I am not altogether certain that my wife is fully American.  She was born American and grew up on military bases, but there is some foundational American gene that she seems to be lacking.  She is insistent that if we pray to God, without telling anyone about our troubles that God would work it out.  For most American Christians, this is insanity.  I’ve had people tell me, “It says in Scripture ‘Ask and you will receive.’”  I have been forced to point out, careful Bible reader that I am, that it the principle is not speaking about asking other people, but God alone.  Others have pointed out the passage that says, “Be as innocent as doves, but as wise as serpents.”  I point out that Jesus was making no excuse for people not to trust in God.  Others have.

            So, in this case, as in so many other cases, we did not sound out a cry of alarm, but we prayed.  I did send an email out to two people: Duncan, the Conference Minister who licensed me as a pastor and my mother.  I asked them to pray for us, because we didn’t know what to do and God had to help us out of this situation.

            It was only two days later that we received deliverance.  That’s pretty quick for God, because He usually likes to leave his answers right at the last minute.  Or just after the last minute.

            It was simple enough.  My father called me from his home in Southern California and said, “We’d like to buy you a house.”

            “Sorry, dad, couldn’t hear you very well.  I think the line broke up.  Dang satellites.  What did you say?”

            “You’ve been really consistent in your ministry to folks on the street and we want to support you in that.”

            After I picked my jaw (and the rest of my body) up off the floor, then I thanked him and he explained to me that we would have to find a real estate agent and begin looking at houses.  It would probably take a few months, he explained.  “But,” I said, “we don’t have a few months, so we’ll find a place faster than that.”  I could hear my father smiling on the other side of the line, but all the said was, “We’ll see.”

            We got a wonderful real estate agent (whose name is Diana Jones—I remember that because one of my family’s favorite novelists had the same name) and whatever house on the market we wanted to look at, she helped us do so.  Since I first came up with the idea of Bet’ Anawim, I secretly—covetously?—passed by houses, looking at their size or their location or their general structure, and thought “that would be great”.  “Think of the people we could put in that house.”  “We could really offer a lot of people showers there.”  Now, my secret longing could be openly discussed.  But we had limitations.  In prayer, I was led to find a house as close to downtown Portland as possible.  And Diane and I discussed a general guideline of two hundred thousand dollars for getting a house.  Honestly, if any of you are shocked at that figure, $200,000 didn’t get a lot of house in Portland in 2003.  It was a reasonable figure, but it wouldn’t purchase you the kind of house we were thinking of—something huge that could house a lot of people and store clothes and have a place where people could come in to take showers. 

There are a lot of houses in Portland.  Even with our limited guidelines, there were a number of places to look at and none of them were quite… right.  Honestly, most of what we viewed were great one-family dwellings, even for an extended family, but they weren’t so great for a family who welcomed strangers into their home and invited them to take a shower and have a meal.  They just weren’t… arranged properly.  The bathroom wasn’t convenient.  There was a lot of space, but not separate living quarters.  The houses just seemed so suburban, so tame, so… not what we were looking for.

Because I felt that we needed to find a house near downtown, Diane and I took a few drives, just wandering around the outskirts of downtown, seeing if any house met our qualifications.  On a main thoroughfare, travelling from one neighborhood to another, I noted a few houses, hidden behind huge trees, and one of them had a “For Sale” sign in front of it.  I pulled over and we looked at it quickly.  “It’s too big,” Diane said immediately.  “No way we could afford it.”  I agreed that was probably true, but I said, “It can’t hurt to look at it, right?”  It was big.  And pretty old.  But it had a lot of character to it.  Of course, I see character and Diane sees hard work, but that’s all good. 

So we arrange a look at the house with our kids, and, conveniently, the owners were there.  They introduced themselves as John and Jean Keller, a friendly African-American couple.  John took us through the house, explaining thing as we went along.  “This house was built in 1897 and my family bought it in 1933 when I was three years old.  I’ve lived here ever since.”  The house was being used both for their aging family and as a foster-care home.  “We take in the folks that other homes wouldn’t take.  If there was someone that was a little bit more trouble we would say, ‘Sure, send them over.’”

We walked to the backyard, which was a combination of wild growth and dead plants.  There was a small group of men sitting halfway in a tuff-shed watching a small television.  As he gave us the tour, every room had a story.  He led us to one bedroom which was full of shelves filled with canned food.  “We hand out food to folks in the neighborhood as they need help.” 

We waked down to the finished basement which had two rooms and a large area that was almost like a living room, a tiny bathroom and a shower, separated from the rest.  There was also a door that opened to the ground level.  “We leave this door open at night and homeless men come in and use the ground level here.  We put in a shower over there, so people could get clean when they needed to.  People would come in and sleep on these couches here.”  He sat on the couch and explained that they were Seventh-day Adventists and that they had always felt that they should help the community in every way they could.  “We once owned houses all throughout this neighborhood, but this is our last one.  We’ve sold them all.  Now we’ve bought a house in Eastern Oregon and we’re going to retire.”

            John’s eyes were bright as he told us the story of the house and how he had attempted to help the neighborhood, which was now considered simply ‘hood.  I was so excited at his story and the spirit in the house, that I told him of our plans and how the house was perfect for what we wanted to do as well.  Have church services, house the homeless, offer showers.  He smiled and we looked at each other.  Yes, the real estate agents would have to work out the price, and the timing would all have to be worked out, but the deal was set.  This was going to be the Anawim house.

* * *

Of course, that’s when the work started.  The house, structurally, was sound and perfect for our needs, but there was seventy years of accumulated stuff and changes that needed… adjustments before the house could be up to its full potential.  More than once did we need to fill dumpsters to be rid of the old food, papers and vinyl records from the seventies.  Some of the items we kept, if it was useful for the upkeep of the house but so much of it had to be tossed.   But there was much that was useful, as well.  Three refrigerators in fair condition, living room furniture, huge beds and a television.

            But the garage—that was amazing.  The large door was nailed shut and the garage was filled almost to the ceiling with stuff—wood, dirt, various kinds of metal, old papers, and more and more.  A couple of our homeless friends took one look and said, “Can I go in?  I’d really like to criddle!”  (“Criddle” means to rummage through junk to find useful items.)  We did.  A machete was found, as well as a lot of firewood.  It took a lot of work to empty that out.

            But empty it we did.  A youth group came over and painted the interior.  We took out the garage door to eventually replace it with a wall and a nice French door. And I spent a weekend laying tile over the cement floor.  Although the outside was overlaid with tin painted blue.  Then we had an open house and my ordination as a pastor.  Fifty people showed up, along with my parents in their first look at the house they purchased.  It was exciting.  The folks from the State Hospital was there, and were behaving… normally for them.  One gal accused Duncan, who was ordaining me, of being Satan and another guest kept Diane busy asking why she couldn’t take whatever she wanted.  Duncan discovered that he had forgotten his notes, and so we had to make up the ceremony on the spot.  Diane was very ill and it was windy and cold without a door on the back of the garage, but it was all gloriously Anawim.

            Our house was already full.  Diane, myself and our two girls lived in the two bedrooms on the upper level.  Our son Ian and our friend Bryan who had lived with us for years stayed in the two bedrooms in the center of the house.  We also, almost immediately after getting the house invited two others to stay with us.  Pam, who was struggling with recovery with Peace Mennonite and needed another place to live.  And Byron, who was a strong believer on the street, who deserved more than most a regular place inside to live.  Over time, we also invited Ron, a gentle older man who was sleeping underneath picnic tables in Gresham and Vickie, whose mental illness made her vulnerable wherever she lived.  

            It was about the time of my ordination that we discovered that the place where the ministry was meeting in was being taken away from us.  The man who was leasing it, David, was given notice to leave.  He was looking for another place, he said, but he didn’t know when he’d find one.  At this point, I was tired of having to move the ministry every few years, scrambling to see if we could find another place to be.  I had made a few contacts over the years and decided that instead of finding another place to be, I would move the ministry to four other places.  This way, if one shut down, then there would be three others that would continue.  We would have one meeting in Gresham, one meeting in our new house, one Bible study in downtown Portland and one Bible study at a meal in SE Portland.  Four opportunities to connect with Jesus, four meals, four neighborhoods and four, smaller, more intimate groups.  Because altogether we had about fifty or sixty people, I figured that we would have about 15 people in each meeting, which would be manageable.  It was only a few years before a couple of the groups grew to fifty, and a couple years after that that I was running all the meals myself.

            Finances were also tricky.  Some might look at our situation and say, “The reason you always had trouble paying bills is because you never asked for help.”  The fact of the matter is, Americans, whether Christian or whatever other stripe, are always more ready to give to art or the latest newspaper headlines rather than ongoing work for the homeless.  (Look at the money given in grants over the last year, if you doubt me!)  And when people do give, they much prefer to give to the “established” ministries, rather than to a small, family-run operation.  We have always been barely hanging on financially, and I think that it wouldn’t matter if we posted ads in the New York Times, we would still be struggling.  So we did what we always have, and our main newsletters were sent to God, and He brought in the money as He saw fit.

            At one point, I noticed that our shelves were empty.  That we really had little food for those in the house, including my children, and there was no money to buy any.  I wanted to call my friends, send out an email, but I spoke with Diane and she said, “Let’s just pray over the weekend.  If we still don’t have it, then you can send out an email.”  So we prayed. 

           One of our housemates is a man, famously known on the streets as Diver.  He is called that because if you have a need, you can tell him and he’ll find it in a dumpster in due time.  I didn’t tell him that we were short on food and he didn’t notice it, but went out early in the morning, as was his wont, to ride around the neighborhood.  He was heading East, but he felt a stirring to go North.  After travelling the backroads a few miles, he reached a local grocery store.  He glanced in the dumpster and his eyes got wide.  They had taken a lot of their frozen food and thrown it away, being on the edge of the expiration date.  He piled up as much as he could, and headed back

            That same morning, I got a call from a middle-class friend named Richard.  He ran a meal once a week for the poor out of his church, and is a lover of God’s word, but I hadn’t seen him in about a year.  He called me and said, “I need to see you today.”  Okay, I said.  I’m running a meal and service in Gresham today, why not meet me there, as it’s in your neighborhood.  “Perfect,” he said.  When he met me, he handed me two hundred dollars in cash.  “God told me to give this to you.”  I thanked him for listening to God and that afternoon I was able to get groceries for my household that our freezers full of frozen food didn’t supply.

            I wouldn’t necessarily call our community house idyllic, however.  One person was always blaming another for being insulting.  Another person would go out on a regular basis to drink, and come back repenting.  Another person would accuse a house member of unacceptable behavior.  The most difficult one for me, however, was the mentally ill person we had in the house for years that would preach in the center of the house, so no one could escape it.

            We knew this was all part of the task.  We would pray, cajole, confront, do spiritual warfare, mediate, ignore, and do whatever else was necessary to keep the house intact.  It was difficult work, and it was constant, but it was good, solid work.

            However, to the seeing eye, it was beginning to wear on Diane and I.  Chronic stress disorder, some call it.  Popularly known as burnout.  I noticed it especially when I started having trouble driving within a single lane of the freeway.  If I concentrated on one thing, then my memory of others would fade.  I got clearly angry when asked simple questions.  I used to be this amazing writer—no one could stop me—but now I had trouble writing anything.  Eventually, I had trouble reading books, any books. It was getting more and more difficult for me to lift the tubs I used to carry with ease.  My wife, on the other hand, was simply fading.  She was finding it difficult to accomplish any task.  She would have days of energy, in which she would go through the house like a whirlwind, leaving clean counters in her wake, but these days were getting fewer.  Yes, these are signs of age, but we were only 40.

            The stress was effecting our health as well.  It was discovered that I had a blood sugar problem, pre-diabetes, which I would almost faint from.  Diane’s breathing problems became worse.  Eventually, after blood tests and whatever else, it was discovered that my body had pretty much stopped producing testosterone, which was the cause of the diabetic condition and the anger and the muscle loss.  The ministry was thriving—we had a full house, full meetings, full meals.  But our bodies had faded.  In my most unworthy moments, I said to myself that Jesus had a much worse day, but it was only one day, not thirteen years.

            It took a while, but eventually I broached the subject to Diane.  “So, do you think that it’s time for us to shut down the ministry?”

            She looked doubtful for a moment.  “What else could we do?”

            “Well, I am a pastor.  I could apply for a position in a middle class church in another town and we could have a regular salary and not have anyone living with us.  For a pastor, I’m still young.”

            “Young in age, not in body.”  Diane reminded me that a doctor told me that hormonally I was in my eighties.

            “Whatever.  We could just start over and do something that didn’t require as much of us.”

            “Couldn’t we just get some help.”

            “I’ve been praying for an assistant for years, but every time someone comes along, it just doesn’t work out.”

            “So you think we should just shut down?”

            “We can’t keep going like this.”

            Diane and I sat in silence for a while.  We both hated to stop the work we were doing.  In so many ways, it seemed as if we had just got started.  Disciples were living for Jesus on their own without needing to be hand-held all the way.  As a church, Anawim was small but thriving, and it really was made up of the homeless and the mentally ill.  We didn’t pad the membership with the middle class.  Heck, the middle class didn’t want to come.  The house had really offered an opportunity for people’s lives to be changed.  And the people in the church were taking up some of the physical work, especially when it was clear that I wasn’t physically able to help as much as I used to.  Everyone was working together.  Community was forming.  But if we couldn’t deal with it, what could we do?  It is true, there is no other leadership that has stepped up to take over the church.  But if we can’t do it any more, what can we do?

            Diane spoke: “Let’s just suppose that we did move to another town.  And you got another job, whether it be a pastorate or something else.  We got connected to another community and you were providing leadership.  We could have a house or a parsonage for our family.  How long would that last?  How long would it be before we met someone who was homeless and needed a place to stay for a short time?  And then what would we do?  Of course we would take them in.  That’s what we do.  And when we took one person in, how long would it be before we took in another.  And another.  How long would it be before we had a meal for the poor?  How long would it be before you began another meeting for the homeless, beside the middle class service?  This work we do, it isn’t just what we do.  It’s who we are.  And no matter where we went, the work would follow us.

            “Since we are going to do the work anyway, we might as well do it here.  Continue what we started.  We’ll make it through.”

            I nodded.  I couldn’t argue with that logic.  We never seriously thought about shutting down again.

            Time fails me to speak of how we were able to tone down what we did.  Of how we were able to find assistants.  Of the various medical problems and solutions God gave us.  Of how, right now, I am in the midst of a three-month sabbatical in order to write this book.  Of Daniel Markoya, Hammer, Linda, Jeff and Yvan Strong, Styxx, Ankles, and so many others that gave us help in our time of need.  But they are there.  All of them.  

            The most important thing is that Anawim is now no longer just our ministry.  God transformed it into community, where we are all helping each other.  Of which I am only one part, and not a strictly necessary one at that.  Well, necessary, but no more necessary than any other part.  To borrow a phrase, we are all together now.  

A Radical Deathstyle

When Jesus died, his suffering was not so much about pain as about rejection.  He became sin, the outcast, the reject, in order to open a new way of acceptance before God.  The ultimate price in rejection is death.  But every rejection for Jesus’ sake is a small death, a small cross one carries for the place one holds before God.⁴⁸

It is a death to be whispered about, to have hateful gossip spread about ourselves, but never to defend.

It is a death to be kicked out of one’s living situation for the love one gives to others, but not give in to a hateful action back.

It is a death to be stolen from, but to never sue for the return of one’s goods.

It is a death to be threatened, but to accept it with joy.

It is a death to love those who hate you.

It is a death to be punished by the government for doing good, but never suing back.

It is a death to be declared guilty when you are innocent.

It is a death to repent for one’s small sin, when the large sin of the other remains unrepented of.

It is a death to go to jail for doing good.

It is death to be kicked out of a church because one’s good works has caused “harm” to the church.

It is a death to be misunderstood and so punished for what one did not say.

It is a death to be yelled at by a cop or security guard for caring for the needy.

It is a death to be hated from a distance because of those you love.

This doesn’t happen everyday. It usually isn’t something you can plan.  The key is this: when it happens, accept it.  Don’t lash back.  Don’t express your hated. 

Just stand for love.  Accept the rejection.  And thus allow God to accomplish justice.

Notes
48. The fourth law of justice, and the meaning of Jesus’ death is based on Jesus’ own words in Mark 12:1-12.  Ultimately, Jesus died to take over the rule of the kingdom of God.  He was cast outside of the kingdom, and so when the Father raised Jesus from the dead, Jesus was freed to establish a new kingdom of God, free of the corrupt priests, governors and kings.  A kingdom of justice, ruled by the poor may be established.

Why Remember?

"Did you never read in the Scriptures, 'The stone which the builders rejected, this became the chief cornerstone…? Therefore I say to you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people, producing the fruit of it. And he who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces; but on whomever it falls, it will scatter him like dust."

An ancient teaching by Yeshua, the rabbi from Nazareth, aka Matthew 22:42-44

Yakov: This board of elders of the town of Zorah is now convened.  We will now consider the statements made against Adoniyah, son of Azaliah.  Who saw the crime?  (Silence in the courtyard.)  Well?  Rehebiah, did you not see the crime?

Rehebiah: (Head bowed, voice soft.) Yes, elder.

Yakov: Why do you not speak?  The security and survival of Zorah is at stake!  By the Most High, speak of what you saw!

Rehebiah: What do you wish me to speak of, elder?

Yakov: (Exasperated) Of the crime you saw Adoniyah do!⁴⁴

Rehebiah: Yes.  Well.  I saw Adoniyah walk onto your property, elder Yakov.

Yakov:  (Angry) I do not know why you force me to pull every word out of your mouth!  What did you see him do while on my property?

Rehebiah: I saw him harvest some of your grain, place it in his cart and drive it away.  But, honestly, elder, it was not much.  Perhaps it was a cartful, but it was only a small amount compared to your great fields.  And it was only at the edges of your fields…

Yakov: What does it matter the amount?  Or where the grain was originally placed?  Was the grain not in my property?

Rehebiah: Yes, elder.

Yakov: And did Adoniyah go into my property to take this grain?

Rehebiah: Yes, elder.

Yakov: And didn’t Adoniyah steal this grain and take it away?

Rehebiah: I do not know, elder.

Yakov: What do you mean, you do not know?  Didn’t you see him steal it?

Rehebiah: I saw him walk on your property and take grain.  But I do not know what he did with that grain, whether he had permission from you, or what circumstances there were for him to take the grain.  Perhaps he did not steal it.

Yakov: But you suspected that he stole it, didn’t you?

Rehebiah: (Blushing) Yes, elder.

Yakov: I can tell you now, with my own mouth, that Adoniyah did not do this with my permission.  He stole my possession from me.

Rehebiah: (Silent)

Yakov: Next witness!  Habazziniah, come forward!

Habazziniah: Yes, elder.

Yakov: Can you speak of the crime of Adoniyah which you witnessed?

Habazziniah: Yes, elder.  I saw Adoniyah blithely stroll onto my fields and steal my grain. 

Yakov: When did this happen?

Habazziniah: Two weeks ago.

Yakov: And does it matter to you where or how much grain it was?

Habazziniah: Well, it is true that it is a minor part of my whole harvest.  I might have ignored it if he had done it at night, as a common criminal would have.  But he did it in open daylight, before my eyes.  He had no shame in his eyes, but stole in front of me.

Yakov: Did you confront him about his crime?

Habazziniah: Of course I did.

Yakov: And what did he say?

Habazziniah: He told me that the Lord had need of the grain. 

Yakov: Did you try to stop him?

Habazziniah: Well, no.  I am not a young man and I feared.

Yakov: Why did you not call your workers to stop him?

Habazziniah: They were a distance away, at the house.  By the time I could collect them, Adoniyah would have been gone.

Yakov: Very well.  Thank you, friend Habazziniah.  Now, Adoniyah, come forward!

Adoniyah: Yes, lord Yakov?

Yakov: The proper title is elder, not lord.

Adoniyah: Are you sure, Yakov?  Then why do not any other of your elders, sitting beside you, ask questions or make comments.  They are barely able to show their faces, here.

Yakov: I am the lead elder, here.  Who are you to question our proceedings?  Are you Adoniyah, son of Azaliah?

Adoniyah: Yes, I am.

Yakov: You were seen, in two separate occasions, stealing grain.  What do you say to these charges?

Adoniyah: I did not steal.

Yakov: Oh yes?  Did you enter my field and take my gain?

Adoniyah: I did enter your field, but I did not take your grain.

Yakov: But we have a witness who says you did!

Adoniyah: Your witness spoke the truth.

Yakov: And that witness said that he saw you steal my grain!

Adoniyah: No.  He said he saw me walk onto your property and harvest grain that was on your field.

Yakov: What game of semantics are you playing, Adoniyah?  That is stealing.

Adoniyah: Not if the grain was not yours.

Yakov: But my men planted it.  It was growing on my property.  It was mine.

Adoniyah: Not according to God’s law.  For it is written: “When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap to the corners of your field, nor shall you gather the gleanings of your harvest, nor shall you glean your vineyard, nor shall you pick the fallen fruit of your vineyard, you shall leave them for the needy and the stranger.”⁴⁵  That grain was in the corner of your field, even as the grain I picked up at Habazziniah’s was at the corner of his field.  That grain did not belong to you, but to the poor, according to the law of God.

Yakov: What law is this?

Adoniyah: It is the law of God, as given to Moses, the servant of God.

Yakov: We recognize no such law here.

Adoniyah: That is obvious.  But the governor, Zerubbabel does. 

Yakov: This is not Zerubbabel’s town!  Nor is it Moses’!  It is mine!  I built this town, and I determine the law!

Adoniyah: Is that right?  That should be as much a surprise to Zerubbabel as it is to the ears of your elders who sit beside you.

Yakov: They all owe me!  I paid for them to come to this place!  I paid for the building of all the homes in this town!

Adoniyah: Even were that true, the money that you did use to pay for these travelers and their buildings you took from those weaker than you.  You have stolen from the anawim, while I have only taken that which belonged to the poor! 

Yakov: Shut up, shut up!  I gave to these lackeys!

Adoniyah: Yes, so you might have them in your pocket when you came to the restored land of God!

Machir: Excuse me, elder.  Perhaps I can question the accused for a bit?

Yakov: (Waves his hand, too angry to speak properly.)

Machir: Thank you, elder.  Adoniyah, we are not here to accuse elders.  You would have to gather at least two more witnesses to support your claim.

Adoniyah: And so I would, if elder Yakov would allow Yohann to return to Zorah. 

Machir: He who threatened elder Yakov years ago when we first settled the land?  I think not.  Just answer my questions, Adoniyah.  Were you not already condemned for theft?

Adoniyah: Yes, in this very court.

Machir: And what was your punishment?

Adoniyah: This. (He holds up his right arm, which is missing its hand). 

Machir: Yes.  So we can all see that you have already been branded a thief. 

Adoniyah: So I was, wrongly.

Machir: Is that right?  How is this?

Adoniyah: Because I was only taking that which belongs rightfully to the poor, according to the law.

Machir: So you say.  What poor do you speak of?  Yourself?

Adoniyah: No, the stranger to our land. 

Machir: Are these the lazy immigrants you allow to inhabit your land?

Adoniyah:  They are not lazy, for they have built my land up to be the richest in the town.  They have built their own houses and have planted and harvested my fields.

Machir: Yet, this is not enough for you. 

Adoniyah: No.  Every family has children, and on my land are twenty families—perhaps a hundred souls all together.  That is just shy of being half of the population of the rest of the town.  My fields are not large enough to feed all of these.  So I take what belongs to these poor, to feed their children.

Machir: Why do you have these foreigners on your land, in any case?  It is none of your business.

Adoniyah: I take them on my land because the town would persecute them if they would settle anywhere else.  They are forbidden to settle within two miles of the town.

Machir: And why should they?  They are not even Judeans.

Adoniyah: Because our Lord God says, “You shall not oppress a stranger in your land, for you were once strangers in the land of Egypt.”⁴⁶  We are to remember the fact that we were immigrants, and that not long before.  As God provided for us, and delivered us from the oppression we experienced in the land of our sojourn, so we should deliver the immigrant from oppression.  Even as we were once homeless and poor, we should help the homeless and poor in our midst. 

Machir: We give all praise to God, but you must realize, Adoniyah, that it is Cyprus who delivered us from our oppression, and he gave us the responsibility to provide for our own security, our own provision, our own help.  Yes, the Most High delivers us, only in the amount that we deliver ourselves.  Right now, the oppression we face is not that of being homeless or made slaves, but rather impoverished and made hungry because of theft.

Adoniyah: Not a single person went hungry because of the grain I took!  Rather, many would be left hungry if that food was not delivered to the poor!

Machir: Guards, please silence Adoniyah.  (Machir waits while five young men, waiting for the command of the elders, hold Adoniyah and hit him in the face repeatedly.)  There, now I can speak without interruption.  Dear Yakov, and the rest of the elders, the true threat against Zorah is Adoniyah himself.  Not only has he stolen from some of the most important and respected members of this community, but he has done it even after punishment.  And he has done it in order to feed these foreigners who threaten to overrun our land.  As you have heard him speak himself, these foreigners are now a third of our population, and they have all been brought in to our town because of Adoniyah.  As it is clear that Adoniyah has no shame for his crimes, yet continues to threaten our way of life and our freedom, because he provides an example of rebellion to our young, I suggest that another simple punishment would not suffice.

Yakov: What is your suggestion, elder Machir?

Machir: Elder, I fear that if we simply banished Adoniyah, then he would return with his foreigners, and perhaps more from another land, and take over our town.  He would destroy all that we have built, and enslave us all to these foreigners.  To truly deal with the threat of Adoniyah, we must kill him. 

Rehebiah: Adoniyah would harm no one!  He has never hurt anyone in this town!

Machir: Rehebiah, are you an elder?  I must insist upon your silence, or else you will receive the same as Adoniyah.  If Adoniyah is set aside, then his land would be forfeit, as his sons are too young to run them properly.  Until they come of age, the eldership would take possession of the land, and the land could be used for the benefit of the town, instead of it’s detriment.  We would not harm the foreigners, just tell them to leave.  And all the grain found on the land would be returned to Yakov and Habazziniah.  What say you, elders?

Yakov: (Looking around at the elders.)  I think I can speak for all the elders that your plan is excellent, Machir.  Is there any objection?  (The elders remain silent, some looking askance).  Excellent.  Then I command, on the authority of the elders, for Adoniyah to be killed by stoning, immediately.  Guards, take him outside of the town.  Every elder and member of the town of Zorah, please follow. 

Adoniyah is dragged outside the town, with the elders following.  All but a few citizens remain behind, not wanting to throw a stone, nor even to see the evil proceedings.  The accusers and condemners surround the servant of God, picking up stones.  He cries out, “God, grant justice!  Judge between me and my accusers!”  Yakov throws the first stone, and bloodlust falls upon all of them, picking up as heavy stones as they can, casting at the head and body of the servant.  Bones crush and blood flows.  Overlooking the execution stands Isaiah, proclaiming God’s word:

Isaiah: “My servant will prosper.  He will be exalted above you.  You may be astonished at his appearance, how he is marred and malformed. But he will cleanse those from other nations.  Kings and governors will be silent before him.  He had no majesty that we should look to him for leadership, nor charisma that we should follow him.  He was despised and forsaken by men,  and we did not speak out for him, for we did not honor him.  Yet he bore our sorrows, he carried our grief.  We called him cursed by God and forsaken by our Lord.  He is being pierced for our transgressions, and crushed for our iniquities.  But we are made well by his wounds.  We have all gone astray like sheep, but the Lord has laid on him all of our sins.  He is oppressed and made one with the anawim.  Like a sheep before the shearers, he is now silent, not saying a word.  But the Lord is pleased to have him crushed, to make of him a guilt offering.  Because of this oppression, the Lord will grant him children to rise up in his place.  Because of the anguish of his soul, the Lord will give him prosperity.  The Lord will set aside the evil in this land, due to this oppression.  And He will restore it to the oppressed.  Therefore I allot him a portion with the great.  He will be of the mighty because he allowed himself to be poured out to death.  He was numbered with the transgressors, and bore the sin of many.”⁴⁷

Isaiah took word of this tragedy to Zerubbabel, the governor of Judea.    Zerubbabel tore his cloak and mourned for this good man, Adoniyah, who died for obeying the word of the Lord.  Then he took five hundred men and had them travel to Zorah, eight miles away.  All the elders were put on trial and killed for their injustice.  And the widow of Adoniyah was granted rule, in the stead of her children, and all the foreigners, once restricted to the land of Adoniyah was all granted the land of the elders, as well as land surrounding the town.  Thus, the town remained peaceful for a hundred years.

Notes

42. To recall the history of Yakov and Adoniyah, you might want to glance over their first story in chapter 2.

43. Leviticus 19:9-10

44. 22:21.

45. Isaiah 52:13-53:12.

Law #4- The Oppressed Who are Raised

“Everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”

An ancient axiom of Jesus, aka Luke 14:11

When an authority is an oppressor, God looks for those who will replace the evil authority.  Ideally, God looks for a person who is oppressed to take over the authority position.  God looks among the vulnerable for those who support justice.  The vulnerable are those who will stand with the weak and poor, for they are weak and poor.  God looks also for the oppressed who are innocent, or at least seeking repentance.  Those who both support true authority and have been hurt by authority.  These are God’s leaders.⁴¹

            Jesus uses the term “humbled” for those who are oppressed.  These could be oppressed by their own decision and be intentionally poor, such as his disciples.  Or they could be poor because of others’ oppression.⁴²  Jesus uses the term “raised” to speak of being placed into a position of authority.  The ultimate humiliation is being murdered.  The ultimate raising is the resurrection from the dead.  God looks not only among the living, but among the martyred for those who would do justice.⁴³

            The final utopia is when the dead are raised in order to accomplish justice on earth.

Notes

41. I Samuel 2:1-9; Luke 1:46-55; Luke 6:20-26; James 1:9-11; 2:5.

42. Mark 10: 28-30; Luke 14:7-11; Luke 12:21-34; Matthew 5:11-12; 10:24-39; John 15:18-16:

43. Matthew 19:27-29; Romans 8:17; I Thessalonians 4:13-17; Daniel 12:1-3, 13; Mark 12:25-27; Philippians 2:5-11.