Journey Home: What You Missed Before Anger Surfaced

On Saturday, September 26, two things occurred. The first, was for me to travel to a city about 60 miles away to a real estate auction that had no reserve. The second was to borrow my son’s pickup and help a friend move.

The house had a lot of the basic features that God has been showing us that we need. Enough land. A pond for fishing. And about 2 1/2 times the space of our apartment. It had a 2 car garage, but not outbuildings and no workshop. Still, the “no reserve” was something that I hoped meant that if no one showed up to bid as well, then I might be able to get it for under $1K, which was what I could afford. I did care that people might be selling it for a song. I prayed that it wouldn’t hurt the seller too much, and if it did, that all of the hurt would be used to either draw them to Jesus, or that God would work it together for their good. On the way out the door, God reminded me to grab my vial of anointing oil. That in turn reminded me to pray that God’s Kingdom would come to the property, no matter who ended up with it.

So, we, the dog and I got there and there were a few cars, and after we found a place to park, someone else in a pickup parked closer, on a little rougher area of the berm. That turned out great. We didn’t have a lot of time before the auction. I had brought all the cash with me. And being the last ones in, I knelt down, and anointed the ground with a small cross, and ask God’s kingdom to come upon the property. I looked around. And then I met the owner of the property. An older, slightly frail man, who spoke so lovingly of the wife that he had lost and their memories there. There were 4 other bidders there. In some ways, I was glad that I would probably be outbid (I was), because I was afraid that I would slap the precious, sacred memories in the face. I didn’t want to do that. My heart broke for the old man as it was.

Bidding started at $175K. I was thankful. It could have been that the old man was like Zacchaeus. But my heart still was glad that I had asked the Lord to use the property for His kingdom.

So, I came home, and went to help a friend move. He has moved several times. The places are humbling. When I went to his place this time, it reminded me of a place that I had been once before. Somehow patches to railings made with scrap lumber and a screw gun just remind me of poverty of spirit. The orphan spirit. I had my son’s dog with me. He needs to get out and sniff his new surroundings, then he is generally content to get back into the vehicle. Two young girls came running up to pet him. One had a cell phone or iPod touch, and she showed me pictures of her two dogs. They were starved for attention.

As I thought of all the places that I have considered for a home, I was reminded of the homeless. Some have places to live, with railing repairs of scrap wood and self-drilling screws. And some have mansions. Some live without a because of rejection. Some live without a home because of mental illness. Some of us live without a home because of ignorance, and hopelessness. All that I want for us is to be no longer homeless. I want a place with the tree of life. I want it for the people that I met too. But I also confess that I am afraid of them. It seems that we have been stripped of so much, that sharing is something that causes fear.