Agonizing Decisions: Aftermath

I wanted to return to the story I had shared in two parts about Sarah’s friend who was on the verge of eviction from his apartment, and our wrestling with what to do. Our God is good, and always working, and even added to our Easter morning joy. I was in Easter services when my phone started buzzing with messages from him. He wrote:

“[…] In the midst of getting my phone fixed, finding a place to go, getting a job and all the other day to day things of life I just wasn’t able to find the words, heart or time to give you all the response you deserve. First I’d like to say, THANK YOU. Thank you so much for even considering things as seriously as you all did. I appreciate the efforts made and everything you all did to help me. Even though your answer was no, you all still made sure to give me other resources and information doing literally all you could do from your end and that means a lot because there’s very few people that have known me my whole life that will do the same. So, thank you.”

He went on to say that he’s found a place, sharing a room with a friend, and he’s found a job, working in a retail store, so he now has money coming in and is beginning to turn his life around.

God is at work in even the situations we think are hopeless. God is at work if we would just get out of his way and let him–if we would listen for where he is leading us. I am beyond grateful to hear Sarah’s friend is not on the streets, he’s safe, and he’s beginning to put things in order.  I give God all the credit for everything he’s done, and will do, to bring this young man through. And I have to give him the fist-bump for nudging him to reach out to us on Easter morning–the day love broke through ALL of the darkness and gave us the source of all our hope. Ours is an incredible God!

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Agonizing Decisions, Part II

So what did we do about Sarah’s friend who was on the verge of eviction and possible homelessness, did we take him in or not?

The short answer is, no, we didn’t. My biggest concern was that I didn’t want to solve the problem right in front of him, only to create a larger problem next. We live in a part of northern Virginia that is very suburban, even rural to the southwest of us; a car is pretty essential to getting just about anywhere, and if he doesn’t have a license and a car, then it’s not possible to get to jobs. So yeah, we could give him a place to stay, but then he’d be essentially trapped in our basement, unable to get to jobs and save up and restart his life.

We communicated that to him and to Sarah. She took it hard; wouldn’t speak to us for a few days. We never heard back from him. I’ve asked Sarah if she’s heard, and all she knows is he’s alive, but he isn’t communicating much.

I feel terrible for him, but I also know we weren’t really a solution for him. But it made me wonder, as I head towards the pastorate: how many other lives like his will I come across? How can I help them, if I can’t even help this one?

Well, maybe we did. You see, one of the things he told us when we spoke was that he hadn’t looked into any programs in his city that could help him. So we reached out to friends and did some research, and so rather than just say No, we added a list of three programs that we found that could help him, and details on two upcoming job fairs in his area. We might not have given him a fish, but I hope we were able to teach him to fish, or at least how to find someone in his own area code who can help.

From everything I can gather, that was the right response. But I can’t say it was easy to do. Mary commented later that this is the one thing she worries most about in our next life: I’ll want to help absolutely everyone, and when I can’t, or when it goes badly, how I’ll internalise it. She may have a point. All I can do is to say I look forward to some of the training I’ll get, including a class on pastoral crisis interventions in seminary.

In the meantime, spare a prayer for a young man struggling to find his way. We’ll keep reaching out, trying to see how he’s doing. I truly pray there’s a good end to this chapter in his story.

Agonizing Decisions, Part I

Nobody ever promised life would be easy. We’ve had a heckuva decision to make recently. Sarah came to us with news that an 18-year-old male friend from another Virginia city (i.e., a significant distance off) was being evicted from his apartment within days and on the verge of becoming homeless. She asked, Could he come stay with us and start to make a new life here in Northern Virginia?

Oy.

Very long story short, this is someone whom she knows far better than we do: we had met him once, last summer, and I think I spent all of four hours with him that weekend. We spent about 40 minutes on the phone with the young man to hear him out directly about his present situation. 

On the one hand, he has no car and no license. He wants to work in an industry that isn’t local to our neighborhood, so he would need a way to get to work. He’s very desirous of working, but for various reasons (not important to get into here) hasn’t kept a job more than a few months. For various reasons he hasn’t been able to go to his parents for assistance. He seems like a decent person who’s struggling to get his life started. But I really don’t know him, and how do I bring someone into my home (in the presence of my wife and 18-year-old daughter) whom I don’t really know all that well?

On the other hand: Christ has no hands and feet but ours. What good does it do to talk about Christ’s love in action, if I can’t see it through?

“I was hungry, and you didn’t feed me. I was thirsty, and you didn’t give me a drink.  I was a stranger, and you didn’t invite me into your home. I was naked, and you didn’t give me clothing. I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.’ “Then they will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and not help you?’ “And he will answer, ‘I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.’” Matthew 25:42-45

So what do we do? What is the proper Christian response to this?

We took counsel from many, many friends, and I cannot say any of them said, “Absolutely, you have to take him in.” Which is itself an interesting observation. I got a lot more responses along the lines of sharp, whistled intakes of breath, and caution to not do it. And to be sure, the last thing I would want is someone who takes up residence in my basement and then can never leave–not only for the impact on my family, but all the more, because it won’t have really solved the problem, only changed it and put it on my family’s back.

This becomes all the more a real question as I transition into the pastorate. I’m not aware that I’m under any obligation to take into the parsonage every homeless person who shows up at the door. But I am expected to help, and to help in ways that don’t create further harm to the person seeking help. Plus…it’s my daughter. And it’s a friend of hers.

I have agonized over this for weeks. An awful lot of my prayer life went into this topic for awhile.

So what should I have done? Let me know your thoughts…then next time I’ll share what we actually did.