Last night, I received a phone call from the city of Hempstead Police Department. These are not the kind of phone calls they prepare you for in seminary.
The gentleman on the other end of the phone told me about a neighbor who had been arrested in Hempstead. He had posted bail and was in need of a ride to Bellville. The officer gave me the low down and the story of my neighbor. The officer told me my neighbor said that I might be able to come and pick him up. I could feel the tearing within me at this point. What sort of tearing?
This gentleman, my congregation and I have a history. I first met him one Sunday morning as he worshiped with us. He actually had worshiped the week before when I was on vacation. One of my congregation members informed me he and his common-law wife had lost everything they owned in a fire. They had moved into a rental house at the end of the street, and they needed a couple of things. My congregation is very generous and within a week the stuff they needed was provided.
But then things got interesting as I started to get to know this guy a little better. I discovered very quickly this gentleman could act like a parasite. Now, that might sound harsh, but it is a true statement. Soon, I was receiving daily phone calls from this guy asking to borrow stuff. He was working on some stuff in the rent house, and he was constantly inviting me to come down and check out the work he was doing and the stuff he was uncovering.
I was very lucky that he never damaged any of my stuff, and he has returned everything, but he did start to become a time suck, especially when he would knock on my door all throughout the day. I contemplated blocking my cell phone number from his calls, but didn't. He was a neighbor in need, and he didn't know anyone around. I hoped this was just a passing phase.
But then things started to get interesting. I began to notice erratic changes in behavior. Never did I smell alcohol on him, so I knew he wasn't getting drunk. However, I started seeing the glassy eyes, the dilated eyes. Several times, I had seen him very unsteady on his feet. He was involved in a couple of minor traffic accidents including rolling his truck. "The guy is on something," I thought to myself.
And he continued to call me about all sorts of stuff. He would see me outside and walk down to talk about all the stuff in his life. One day, he even did so when my Dad was outside with me playing with my kids. The guy was in a depressive state and made mention of going home and taking a bunch of pills and ending it all.
Now, I am a student enough of human nature to know a couple of things about such claims--usually if someone tells you such a thing, they are not really interested in offing themselves. Usually, they are trying to get your attention and your help. People who are serious about committing suicide don't broadcast it that blatantly.
Of course, my dad took it more seriously than I, and he prodded me to make a couple of phone calls. Which I did. And I found out there's not much a person can do unless one physically sees pills out and someone taking them, or the person has to have attempted suicide for the state to intervene. But this is all a sidebar to the ongoing saga.
Things came to a head the day this gentleman rolled his truck early one morning. He refused any sort of medical treatment and managed to get back home. I'm almost 100% sure he decided to self medicate and treat his own pain, but I don't have solid evidence. Only what I saw happening later. He drove his little pick up to the mail boxes and stopped right in front of them. He sat there slumping over in the seat, parked in the middle of the road. I saw this from the window of my office. I asked myself, "What in the hell are you going to do now?"
Life can be a little complicated as a pastor. You are bound by your calling as a servant of God and shepherd of the sheep. You are called to imitate Christ. You are held by your congregation and others to a higher set of moral and ethical standards. It may not be right, but it just is. So what do I do? Do I call the cops on him? Do I see what's going on? Does he need assistance? Do I just ignore it? Decisions. Decisions. WWJD?
I get up and walk down the street and stick my head in the guys window. He's over medicated, and he's yelling in pain. Apparently, when his car rolled earlier, he bruised his kidney or something. I ascertained he needed medical attention, but I wasn't about to tell him what to do. So I ask him if he's O.K.
He responds that his back is killing him from the roll over. He's hurting very, very badly. I'm starting to worry about internal injuries, so I ask him if he was checked out by a doctor. He responds no. Long and short of the matter, he asks if I can take him to the emergency room. I load him in my truck, and we head out.
He put on quite a show as we were loading up and heading to the hospital. He moaned and groaned. He limped and moved like a 100 year old man. He struggled to get into my truck. We drove the 20 minutes to the hospital, and it seemed like 20 hours as he moaned the entire time. I dropped him off and told him I had commitments that afternoon, but I'd like to hear how he's doing.
I drove back to my office.
In the next three hours, I think I received 10 calls from this guy. He complained about the lack of care he was receiving and the lack of medication he was receiving. He yelled that he was in still immense amounts of pain. He wanted me to come get him. I refused. I told him I had commitments and he was going to have to handle it on his own.
Several hours later, after my commitments were done, I saw the rural trasit authority pull up the road. Guess who got off? Guess who wasn't having any problems walking? Guess who managed to get a gas can and carry it to his truck and fill it up because it had ran out of gas?
I won't tell you what I said to myself at that moment, but I was glad I didn't go pick him up.
Strangely enough, the phone calls and visits to my house lessened immensely after that day. Can't say I'm sorry about that.
Several times since then, the guy has shown up at church doped out. One of my members is a constable, and he had to escort this guy home once.
We've talked as a council about what to do, and it's given us fits. We know we need to be hospitable. We know we need to welcome everyone and be neighborly. But how much do we have to take?
I asked myself the same question last night as I turned the key in the ignition to pick up this guy from the Hempstead police department. Am I doing the right thing? Is my helping of this gentleman this time a continued enabling--even though he hasn't asked for anything in a long time? Even though he has repaid every dime he has borrowed from me?
I posted on my Facebook status, "I keep reminding myself, 'He is a child of God too. He is a child of God too.'" And he is. I know this.
But he keeps making bad choices. He keeps making bad decisions. He keeps getting into things and doing stuff that aren't socially acceptable and make life difficult for himself.
Sometimes, I feel like literally slapping him up beside the head and saying, "WAKE UP!!"
But I am also reminded of God's grace, love and mercy. I'm not afraid of showing tough love. I did it when I refused to pick him up from the hospital. I've done it on several other occasions. But where do you finally draw the line and cut it off? God never does it to us. Should we do it to others?
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