Brian Castelli – With His Heart

In the most-recent edition of the Christian Research Institutes’s Journal magazine (www.equip.org), Sean McDowell reviews the book Thank God for Evolution by Michael Dowd. McDowell quotes Dowd’s explanation for his shift from Bible-believing fundamentalism to evolutionary evangelist:

“First, I came to know and trust several students and teachers before learning that they held evolutionary world views.”

Dowd is a smart guy. It seems likely that he has considered the evidence carefully. But what I find particularly compelling in his story is that relationships he built with people who held opposing viewpoints with him ultimately led to his change of heart and mind. My guess is that he came to trust these folks before he was willing to give their viewpoint a fair hearing.

This applies to all of us. When we carry the truth–either to an unbelieving co-worker, a homeless vagabond, or a student at the local high school–we need to show them that we care through our relationship with them.

I’m reminded of the story of the Hall’s relationship with Denver Moore (http://briancastelli.com/?p=211). It was the people who came down to the mission week after week that came to be trusted. As we build our relationships, we must be consistent in the way we spend time with people. Drive-by charity doesn’t build relationships…

A friend lent me her already-borrowed copy of the audio book, “same kind of different as me.” It’s the true story of the ministry of Debra Hall and her husband, Ron, and how they reached out to befriend a homeless man named Denver Moore. Denver, as he’s referred to in the book, came out of a life of virtual slavery. The Hall’s reached out to him as part of their weekly work with the homeless in Fort Worth, TX.

Some insights from the book that apply to outreach:

• That the Hall’s kept coming back week after week set them apart from the “seasonal” volunteers that the homeless saw at the Mission. Denver said that the folks who only show up on holidays come because they feel guilty for all that they have. Once the guilt is assuaged, they return home and let the guilt start building up again. Since the Hall’s kept coming week after week, folks began to get the idea that they really cared. (And they did!) This tells me something that I guess I already knew from my trip to San Diego a couple of summers ago: Drive by help is not always appreciated. The kind of help that makes a difference is the kind of help that builds relationships.
• Denver’s tough exterior was his shield. He’d been hurt enough times to not want to let anyone get too close again. When he appeared dangerous, people left him alone. Because of this exterior, Ron didn’t want to be friends with him at first. Debra, who looked through the exterior, kept insisting. It took time, but Ron and Denver eventually became good friends. Denver became part of the family. In fact, he moved into the family home after Debra passed. The lessons here: The tough exterior we see is sometimes an act, and it takes a while to break through layers of defense. Patience and perseverance are required.
• Even though the Hall’s had no common background or experience to help them understand the plight of Denver and other homeless folks, they did what they could–they loved. Ron didn’t have to spend the night in a cardboard box to show love and compassion to Denver. He didn’t have to sell all of his possessions and give the proceeds away to become Denver’s friend. The lesson here is that even people of diverse backgrounds have something to share. This isn’t always comfortable. In fact, it is decidedly UNCOMFORTABLE. And that, my friend, is just what we need sometimes.
• When the visits to the homeless Mission began, Ron felt sorry for the men and women he met there. He admits, however, that he also felt somehow superior to them. He was there to help them, but what he found, in the end, that he was in many ways INFERIOR to Denver. That is, as the relationship progressed, Ron found that it was *Denver* who poured his life into Ron, not necessarily the other way around. The lesson here is that humility helps us understand our role as we work to become better friends.
• God is in control of all things. Although there was terrible pain for Ron when Debra passed–why did He take her when she was doing so much good for so many people?!!?–Denver took up the torch she laid down. He became an advocate for the homeless and has made a difference in that community that Debra by herself could not have achieved. Even her horrible, painful death yielded evidence that God works all things together for good.

I highly recommend the book. I also highly recommend that we endeavor to find uncomfortable situations in which we can minister. Speak life into people!

On the last Friday of my visit to San Diego (See previous posts), I went looking for either Al or Ron. I hoped that my talking to them earlier in the week might make one of them more willing to accept my offer of help. Bible and cash in my pocket, I jogged the waterfront.

I passed many homeless folks. Some were there every day. Perhaps I should have visited them? There was a cluster of three homeless men who occupied the same group of park benches every day. (When I told my daughter this story, she asked, ‘Why didn’t you buy them a pizza and go eat with them?” Doh! Why didn’t *I* think of that?!!?)

I didn’t find Al. I didn’t find Ron. I was running out of time when I spotted a homeless man sleeping on a bench at the end of the marina. He had a dirty blanket wrapped tightly around him. His face was covered. On the ground at his feet were at least a dozen plastic grocery bags, no doubt filled with his possessions.

I ran by the man. He did not move. I ran back and stopped next to him. Still no movement. I placed the Bible and cash on top of one of his bags and ran on.

I pray that my anonymous gift has helped someone. My cool little Bible may be sitting at the bottom of San Diego bay, or it could be in the hands of someone hungry for God’s word. My hope is that it is the latter.

More fishing.

One sunny morning in San Diego, the day after I met Ron, I once again hit the pavement at dawn for a run. I was looking for Ron. I wanted to get to know him a bit and maybe earn his trust enough to convince him to accept my New Testament. I wanted to switch from hunter to fisherman.

As I ran, the scene was much the same. On Thursday morning, however, there was no sign of Ron.

I saw a black man in a dark sweatshirt and ball cap sitting on one of the park benches. He was feeding the pigeons that had gathered at his feet. He was giving them old pieces of cereal.

I sat next to Al, introduced myself, and asked him his name. Like Ron, Al acted as if I was not speaking to him at first. I’m convinced that they both are so used to being ignored that it took a bit for them to realize I was addressing them.

Al and I talked about fishing. He told me that he didn’t fish, but he’d never eat anything that came out of the bay. He asked me if I’d seen the sewage that people dump in there. I said that I hadn’t. I asked how the fancy restaurants in the area got away with charging so much money for polluted fish. He defended the restaurants, saying that they got their catch from deep sea fishing, not the bay.

Al has been in San Diego since 1991. He is originally from San Francisco. We had a great time talking until I asked him what his Thursday was going to be like. Then, like Ron, he started using evasive words in his sentences. I backed off, not wanting to “hunt”. I kept the New Testament in my pocket.

When we finished talking, I bade Al farewell and wished him a good day. I left with the idea that I could go looking for both Al and Ron on Friday…

I was going to help somebody!

I brought a tiny leather-bound New Testament with me to San Diego in July of 2007 with the idea that I’d give it to someone. As I prepared for my early-morning run on Wednesday, I thought I might find a homeless person along the shore of the Bay! I tucked $5 inside the cover, placed it in my pocket, and headed out!

Most of the homeless people I saw as I ran were asleep – wrapped in dirty blankets, lying on the benches that dotted the shoreline, with what appeared to be all their possessions in collections of bags at their feet.

3 gentlemen were sitting up, talking together at a cement table. How could I divide $5 and one book between them? I continued on.

5 minutes further, I spotted Ron. He was standing at the shoreline facing the water. He was wearing a dark blue San Diego ball cap, a red jacket, and dirty blue jeans. he was smoking a cigarette. A tan suitcase with a few broken seams was on the ground at his feet.

I stopped and asked Ron – I didn’t know his name yet – for directions to the ferry. It was a ruse. I had just run past the ferry landing. I knew where it was. I just needed an opening.

At first, Ron acted as if I wasn’t talking to him. When the awareness of my attention hit him, he turned to look my way. He gave me vague directions. I thanked him and engaged him in some idle chit-chat. I asked for his name. (Ron) Did he like to fish? (No.) How long had he been in Sand Diego? (A while.) I then asked Ron what a typical day looked like for him. He started rambling on about coming to San Diego on business and how there were somethings that he would say and some things that he wouldn’t say and he wasn’t sure what he was going to say today… After several minutes of his rambling with a few inserted questions from me, I told him that it was time for me to move on. I pulled out the Bible and offered to give it to him. I crossed a line with that offer.

Ron started another ramble session. What was I giving him that for? He didn’t need my money. He had his own money. He didn’t know why I would make such an offer. I interrupted him to apologize. I said that I was sorry to have offended him. I told him about my devotion to Jesus Christ, and I asked him if he knew Jesus. (No coherent response.) I apologized again, said “goodbye” and turned to walk away. Ron drew me back. He wanted to keep talking, so we did.

After a few more minutes of rambling conversation, I said, “Ron, look. I am sorry for having offended you earlier, but I have another offer. How about if I give this Bible to you and you give it to someone you know who needs it. Okay?” I held out the Bible. He refused to take it.

Ron rambled on. How do I know there aren’t any strings attached to this? I don’t know what you want back from this. And on and on he went. I told him that I was simply being obedient to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. There were no strings, no commitments, nothing. I was offering a free gift. As I got nowhere with him, I said “goodbye” once again and departed, with Ron talking to me – or someone – as I moved along the Bay.

I learned a valuable lesson from my encounter with Ron. Drive-by help doesn’t always work. I don’t know if Ron would ever have accepted anything from me, but it’s certainly clear that I would have a much better chance if I had spent more time pouring life into him.