Back about 23 years ago we were living near a tiny rural community about dead center in the state of Oregon. We ended up there because of almost a fluke of "fate" in life. I had bought several properties we lived on at first about 65 miles west close to where there was work and development for me as a carpenter but I also felt led to buy this older house on five acres out in the middle of no where. There was about 400 people living there in the town and surrounding ranches. The fluke was that I had hurt my back on a jobsite and it stuck with me for quite a while so when winter came and having serious financial difficulties, we were forced to move out to the Mitchell house. It was the only one of three properties that was in a finished state enough to live in the brutal cold winters there.
So there we were, me with a back injury, no work and the 7 of us as a family in a place we knew nothing about. We were in a valley surrounded by majestic hills and mountains all around us. It was absolutely beautiful and serenely peaceful out there away from the busyness of the towns further west. I eventually overcame the back injury and found out that I was the only carpenter in the entire area. All the ranch managers used to meet in the coffee shop in town in the morning and playfully argue over who was going to get me next. It was a carpenter's dream.
It was a great life. We added on 7 acres, got a bunch of animals, the kids all had their chores and their special animals. People in the country are so much more friendly and we had great friends. We used to gather with some of them on Saturdays and have fellowship. Deep honest fellowship.
I was working for quite a while on a custom Swedish log cabin up in the hills. One day after work I started down the 30 mile trip back home on a very hot summer day. The trip back home was through an incredibly beautiful, curvy, forested highway. As I made my way through the curves I passed by a rather dark man (unusual in that area) walking with his belongings on a pole over his shoulder motioning for a ride and I thought, "One of the ranchers will pick him up" and continued on. It was in the high 90's and I was in a hurry to get home.
For a whole quarter to a half mile after I passed him by I might as well have had a giant rubber band attached to my very being and that man. I literally backed up finally the whole way on the shoulder of the highway to pick him up. I was so convinced that God was not going to let go of my heart until I picked him up. I motioned for him to get in the cab of my truck but he motioned that he was very sweaty and wanted to ride in the back of the truck. Ok. Whatever. I kept checking him out in my rear view mirror and doubt began to fill my mind. He was sprawled out laying down in the back of my truck so full of joy to the point of ecstasy at getting a ride and the wind and the beautiful forest. Oh Lord! Hes go to be drunk. Nobody acts like that unless they are drunk.
I have a family. I'm very protective over them. I knew that if I dropped him off when I made my turn into our long driveway that he would be standing out there on the road trying to catch a ride cause it was late. I decided to go the extra six miles into town and drop him off there. "He'll get a ride from there," I thought to myself rather smugly forgetting all about the sense of being drawn so powerfully to pick him up. His exuberance never stopped the whole way. "Yep. He's drunk," I thought. Perhaps my reluctance was justified.
I pulled into the parking lot of the coffee shop and he jumped out of the truck and all excited put his things down. Then I noticed that he had grabbed a Bible out of his things as he approached me all excited speaking in very broken English, "You the first one! You the first one! This for you! This for you!." His finger was on a scripture in his Spanish Bible. "This for you! My name is Angel (name in spanish) and I am from Cuba. I have walked from Portland, OR and I am going to Montana to minister to some people. You the first one! This for you!." (In very broken English with his finger still pointing to that scripture in Matthew.) Then he went back and picked up his belongings and started walking again.
Let me explain this to those of you that don't know Oregon geography. Portland is about 125 miles from Madras. It's another 25 miles SE to Prineville and another 15 miles to where I picked him up. It's high desert. At that time of year it can get up over a 100 degrees F. That being said, I have never seen a man who had walked 165 baking hot miles get more excited for what he was trying to tell me to go home and read that scripture than he was about getting a 30 mile ride. He was excited for ME. I knew in my heart it was one of those "divine appointments" but I also knew for some reason that man could not turn back. Even the 6 miles back to our little ranch. The conviction of what I had been thinking of him was agonizing yet he was so excited over what had just transpired. After all my doubt one thing was certain. I did pick him up. I didn't feel like doing it but the tug of the Holy Spirit had it's way.
So I left and went home and looked up that scripture. (I have always been terrible about scripture numbers.)
"Whatsoever you have done unto the least of these my bretheren, you have done it unto me..." - JESUS
For all intents and Spiritual purposes, Jesus had walked 165 miles and nobody had given him a ride. Nobody! I was the first one... I used to tell friends almost in holy agony when I would think about it that if I had only known WHO was riding in the back of my truck, I would have taken him home, offered him a shower, fixed a feast and offered him a bed and probably driven him to Montana. But it was too late for that. He couldn't turn back from his mission. That opportunity was lost. And yet he was so excited about what I had done...
The Compassion Of God - "Freely you have been given, freely give."
No not just our money - God wants us to give our lives.
Last year I had gotten to know a brother through a friend in another country. A very poor country where "the harvest is great but the laborers are few." He was running a small ministry to orphans and the destitute. Quite frankly his English was not so good so people had a hard time understanding him (much less his culture.) Some time later I found out that the rent on the ministry property was way overdue and the landlord had told them to get out but gave them a deadline of a few days. For some reason I heard that in my heart but didn't have the resources to help. I was out of work at the time. (at least I thought I didn't.) So I was praying about it and a picture came to me of holding a sign explaining the need and standing on the sidewalk. So although quite reluctantly I made a cardboard sign and some flyers explaining the situation and contact info and went out and did just that.
We had just moved to that community so I didn't know anybody. It was hard watching all the people passing by knowing the desperate and immediate need. At the time this ministry was helping about 30 orphans. The whole time I am wondering, "Lord isn't there a better way to do this?" but I kept getting pressed on. There were some precious small donations from people that seemed to mean more to God than the larger ones. I found myself with a new understanding of the words, "God bless you!: There seemed to be such a new rich meaning when I would speak them to someone, even for a dollar.
I started to understand that God was doing something precious. Something hidden behind that need. I would find myself getting so excited sometimes even for a small amount of change. To be honest though, it was very very humbling. Another brother and I managed to collect almost half the rent in a few days.I was more familiar with things south of the river in Portland so when the landlords deadline was approaching I went down to the supermarket that I knew had a money transfer station in it hoping that their landlord would hold off.
I still had a little time so I felt led to go to the sidewalk at the back of the parking lot with my sign. I was tired but I did it anyway. A guy passed by and yelled a profanity and something about "your imaginary god." at me and gave a finger gesture from out of his window. I really didn't want to be there but somehow I couldn't leave. After quite a while and getting uncomfortably close to the time I had to send it, a car passed me by and almost erratically turned into a side parking lot and parked there. I kept it up for about 15 minutes more but I kept glancing over to that car. The driver appeared to be praying at first then scrounging around in the car.
An Asian lady about in her young 20's approached me from the car almost in tears saying, "I am an orphan but I was adopted by American parents." She handed me a lump of cash saying that she so much wanted to help but that was all she had. She understood more than most what the word "orphan" means. We had precious fellowship for a while then she left. The amount she gave brought it up to 1/2 the rent plus the sending fees. Somehow I knew that the amount I had was sufficient for the moment and I sent it. The landlord agreed to wait for a little while. That was on a Friday evening, Saturday morning their time and it was the last chance I had to send it.
There was still the issue of the balance due on the rent but for now it was stable. I had been checking out a local gathering that carries their service online for a while and I had this picture form in my mind of taking that sign to their parking lot entrance that Sunday but I quite frankly chickened out. I didn't know anybody there. I repeated the process again the next week knowing that the full amount was due. For some reason I seemed to get more response south of the river than in the community we now lived in north of that.
For some reason, that picture of me standing in front of the "church" parking lot kept haunting me so the next Sunday I decided to actually attend their service. I committed myself to God to do what I had seen but inside I was very reluctant. It was a nice very large gathering of believers, with a service of well over 1500 just for one of their two Sunday gatherings. The pastor was a really nice guy, not at all stuffy like some. Kind of looked a little like Keith Green if you know who that is. At one point, he was sharing about their goal to raise 10 million over 3 years to pay off the balance of the building debt. No matter how one get's into debt it is a noble cause to get out of debt. I'm used to smaller gatherings and house gatherings so it was quite a surprise to see the building I was in. I'm not going to get into describing it except to say that it was very very fancy. It's not my purpose to point out fault here but rather to point out that we have a great deal to learn about God's ways. His ways are NOT our ways. That is an important lesson.
Like I had promised the Lord, I went out after the service with my sign and a handful of flyers, stood out at the intersection of the street and the parking lot exit. I got $30.00 in donations mostly from some very nice youth and a few adults. I was dressed in nice clothes and well groomed but I was surprised how many people before they got to where I was standing on the sidewalk rolled up their windows some of them in disinterest and some of them in apparent fear but I smiled and waived anyway.
"Be careful to entertain strangers knowing that some have entertained angels unawares..."
