“The Wedding Feast”

     As a disciple of Jesus, I wrote a letter to our community of faith several years ago expressing concern over an event that transpired shortly before Christmas. It was at that time I thought about the idea of writing a column “Cynical Prophet.” As we are in that season again, I felt it was appropriate to post my experience again. It was written as a reminder that we walk in the integrity of our faith and in a way the honors the dignity of our fellow citizens and the message of our Master…  Remembering, “…we are His workmanship, created..for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.”  

      It’s called “The Wedding Feast”.

 

     One Sunday morning last month, I decided to visit a local Bible believing church in our city after I heard that a new Buddhist temple had been built right next door to it. The only thing that separates the Church and the Temple is the local Child Evangelism Fellowship Office.

 

     When I got out of my vehicle, I was approached by a young Hispanic man, we’ll call Roberto. In his left hand he held a plastic bag with two boxes of cereal. He asked me, “Do you go to this church?”

 

       I responded, “No. This is my first time. I’m just visiting.”

 

       He politely asked, “May I talk to you for a minute?”

 

  I nodded, “Sure.”

 

  Roberto explained, “My wife, three young children and my father, who has kidney problems live in a motel.  If I don’t come up with $45 by noon, they will lock me out. Usually I do day labor and on Sunday I do enough yard work to pay my rent.”  He seemed quite depressed and earnest.

 

   “Well, this morning I didn’t get any work and so I asked this Church if I could speak to the Pastor and they said, ‘No. Sundays are not a good day, he’s very busy.’  Now, I thought that the Lord’s Day was a good day, but they would not help me.”

 

    Then, I thought for a moment of the twenty-five dollars I had in my pocket, our own family’s immediate need for some groceries, and my rent which was also due. I too was discouraged, but I have known God’s gracious hand of provision now for many years.  I said, “Honestly, I would like to help you, but I have to pay my rent which is past due also and am short on finances, but let’s see what we can do.”

 

    He then asked if I could at least spare some money for milk for his kid’s cereal. “Of course.”  So I gave him $5. Then I said, “Let me take you into the Church and let’s see how they might be able to help.”

 

    As we entered the Church we were greeted and after seating Roberto, I went up to one of the ushers and shared a short version of the man’s family needs and asked if they had any provision to assist him.

 

     The abrupt response was, “No. We don’t help these types of people.”

 

     The first thing out of my mouth was, “Well, with this kind of spirit your church is sure not going to grow. After all these are your neighbors.”

 

     One of the elders I had previously met and who had introduced me to his church as “a former Buddhist monk” who had become a Christian and could help them deal with the temple next door, came up to me.  When I told him of the timely need of Roberto, he questioned the truth of his story. He said, “We’ll have to call an elder’s meeting after church to see if we can do anything.”

 

  Quite frankly, I was taken aback and told him,   “I’m afraid that will be too late for this man and his family as they plan locking his family out in less than an hour.”

 

  The elder simply said,  “Sorry.”

 

   So I informed him, “Well, I guess I’ll have to miss the service.”

 

     So, I took Roberto up to the motel where he was staying and on the way over he told me how he and his wife had just given their lives to Jesus last year, but because of their hardship had not been able to afford to get over to the Church. You see, his mother had passed away the year before and he and his wife were now caring for his Father who was blind because of his kidney failure. I discovered later that his wife was struggling with diabetes.

 

    When I arrived, I met his Asian Indian manager, wife and children who appeared to be Hindus, the wife having a red dot in the middle of her forehead.  I asked him about his tenants’ situation and he confirmed the story. I said, “Would $20 help until he can come up with the remainder this afternoon?”

 

     He said shaking his head in a customary Indian fashion, “That would be fine. He does pray to God and he gets his rent each day, although it’s late sometimes.”

 

      Roberto thanked me and I then left, thinking that was the end of the story. On my way home I felt compelled to return to the Church. The service had just ended and I spoke again to the elder. Although I confirmed the truth of Roberto’s story, he said, “I’m just going to have to say no. But would you like to meet the Pastor and come into the wedding reception and have lunch with us?”

 

     “I’d like to meet the Pastor,” I replied.  However, I didn’t feel comfortable staying on for the wedding feast as I thought of how the church had turned a deaf ear towards this poor man’s request even in spite of my biblical plea on his behalf.  The bride and groom were very charming and had no idea what had transpired. It was obviously not the time for me to share this burden.

 

     As I returned home, I felt even more disheartened about the state of the organized Church. Here was a church which the elder proudly stated was debt free and owned its’ property free and clear. But where was it’s’ heart? I am sure there are nice people in the church, but out of the four I asked, not one would give even a dime.

 

     After lunch at home, I noticed a large bag of bakery goods that our daughter Sheila had brought home from her job at Starbuck’s. I then thought of some of the stored goods our friend Stephen Johnson, had brought over to our home when he stayed with us for a while. Stephen, also known as “Wolf” understood what it was like living on the streets. He was a former Zen Buddhist and Hell’s Angel, and now is a Christian evangelist ministering to the youth on the streets of Hollywood.

 

     So, we put together a little care package for Roberto’s family and a few of Jack Chic’s tracts that “Wolf” had given me.  I was also moved to put together a package for the motel manager and his family.

 

    When I arrived later that afternoon, I spoke to the manager and said I had some groceries for Roberto’s family and also that I wanted to share some items with them. After the customary three refusals they humbly accepted the gift. He then walked me over to Roberto’s motel room.

 

The manager’s wife looked at us carrying the bags of groceries and asked, “The Church?”

 

     I said, “Yes.”

 

     She nodded with approval and said, “This is good, very good.”

 

     As I talked with Roberto he confessed that he had also given his manager the $5 I had originally given him for milk and still needed $5 to complete this day’s rent. “Okay, I said. Let me take care of that and also go get some milk for your kid’s cereal.”

 

     After I picked up the milk, I sensed the Lord’s compulsion to buy them some food they didn’t have to get out of a can and bought taco’s for the family. When I arrived I delivered the food and talked to them for a few minutes. The Father briefly shared that he used to be a “bad gang member,” but then became a Christian. He said he missed reading the Bible since he recently lost his sight.

 

     I was shocked as I looked at the dilapidated state of the motel room and calculated that they paid nearly $1395 a month for one room with a shower and only had a hotplate. (I have since discovered that thousands of immigrants live in motels in similar conditions, if not more crowded).

    Then their thirteen-year-old son in baggy khaki pants and a shaved head slowly came outside and quietly said to me, “Wow. I read that story. It was amazing.” While I was out picking up the milk he had found the Chic tract in the bag of groceries. It was a true story about a notorious gangster named Gomez who had become a Christian.

 

   As I encouraged him, I remembered the plight of families who have had no other recourse, but to live in extended stay motels as a result of the acute housing crisis in Los Angeles, while waiting for their painful circumstances to change. I then asked him if there was anything I could pray for.

 

     He said, “No…. Well…, there is one thing. How can I know Jesus Christ?”

 

     I then shared the Gospel with him and he unreservedly gave his life to the LORD. What a surprise and awesome privilege to see the light of Hope in this young man’s eyes.

 

     While we contemplate the eternal meaning of the Incarnation of our Savior Jesus Christ and His humble birth in a stable, let’s remember that He is most pleased by faithful acts of selfless devotion not just at Christmas, but all the year through. Let’s prayerfully minister to our neighbors, family and brethren and as the LORD enables, encourage them with a kind word and thoughtful deed to lighten their burden along the road. 

 

     Grasp the gravity of the Master’s Words,

“Inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.”