You Are Not Mad, Are You?
The call came to Covenant Church that a truck driver passing through Charlottesville was in the hospital with chest pains. A staff minister visited and came back to report: "Pastor, I think this one is yours. The man says he is right out of the heart of witchcraft, running for his life in fear."
Part of my academic studies had included deviant sociology and studying the growth of witchcraft in the United States. Out of that history, I had done several lectures about the evils of witchcraft and how the Bible is clear that witchcraft is a work of hell.
The patient in UVA hospital knew all the names of current leaders in witchcraft. He had a story to tell that was impressive -- shocking. As an orphan with no known living relative, he said he had been rejected in life and was swept along into the heart of witchcraft.
Another phone call came: "Pastor, I am one of the doctors working with the truck driver. We do not understand what is going on and need to do a catheterization of his heart. He is refusing to have further treatment and wants to leave the hospital. We think if you could come and talk with him, you might convince him."
So, I rushed off to UVA and persuaded the truck driver to have the catheterization. Results? He was perfectly healthy!
Uh, hmmm. Well, we took the man in anyway -- gave him free housing for a little work...fair enough -- even gave him a few dollars.
Meanwhile, I began my Sherlock Holmes investigation. I called the post office in South Carolina where he said he was from and allegedly had a mailbox. They had no such name. The social security number was false. I discovered he had never had a truck-driver's license. I called the orphanage in Louisiana, and they checked their archives; no such person had ever been one of their children.
Still, we helped him. He was coming to church. He even went to the altar. He was nice -- even talked about the Lord.
Then one day he said, "I am going to be leaving for a few days to see my sister in Northern Virginia."
A number of others were standing around as I put my arm around his shoulder and said, "Do you mind taking a little walk with me before you leave?"
We walked. As we walked, I shared with him that we were aware that his entire story was twisted and bent just to get help. He was a hobo drifting through life. He had developed a good story that suckered people in. Carefully, the research was shared with him about the web of lies he had spun, e.g. never been in witchcraft, no truck license, never been in the orphanage home, no heart pains --only went to UVA hospital to get free bed and free meals, (Oh, he could hardly walk after that catheterization he was so sore!! -- don't know why I do not feel guilty about encouraging him to have it).
We were still walking along, my arm around his shoulder, when he suddenly stopped, turned and looked at me and said, "You ain't mad are you?"
All of our acts of charity, compassion, and generosity did not take. We did not regret anything we had done for him, but I wondered how many churches he had taken advantage of, and they never knew the truth.
The moral of this story is very simple. There are hobos in life who simply wait to catch the next train -- no roots. They seek what is gain for them without giving anything to God, the church, or others. Pathological liars -- they have developed a lifestyle that is addictive. Only God will break through their calloused hearts.
I share the above story in hopes that every person who reads this article will: (1)Love and tell the truth, (2) see the church as a place of healing and hope, not for personal whims and love of self to be exploited, (3) practice a life of godliness, holiness, and caring for others, (4) put down roots -not be a drifter or floater, (5) remember truth is eventually revealed, and (6) live honestly, openly, sacrificially, and with a servant's heart as a child of God.
It was a comical story; however, my heart is yet heavy for the deception that is likely to cost the hobo his eternal soul. Be wise. Be in the church with a Christ-heart, not riding as a hobo. A servant is not a hobo.
Much love,
Pastor Bare