I Met This Guy...

It's been at least two years, maybe more, since I met the guy. I don't remember his name. I'm not sure the name he told me is his real name, or anything close to it. But I do remember him.

He was in his late 50s or early 60s with a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a clean but battered t-shirt and dark khaki cargo shorts the night that we talked. We met at the local food bank, where we spent the evening sorting out the carrots that could be distributed from the ones too rotten to make it from the food bank to the local food pantries. We talked, we laughed, and we talked some more.

I eventually realized it was safe to utter what I often keep secret, "I'm a pastor."

If he went to church, he usually went to a UU congregation. But he didn't stay in place long enough to find a church home. Instead, he moved every few months, staying ahead of various law enforcement agencies. He was a construction foreman. He completed his work with day laborers, often undocumented. His crews did a good job, so he was always able to keep work, even though he moved often. He lived this life so that he could offer the day laborers--often underpaid, often exploited day laborers--a few months of steady work at a fair wage.

He'd kept up this lifestyle for several years by the time I met him. He talked about what he was doing without reservation, but with some fear.

I take his story with a grain of salt on some days and as he told it on others. But it's stuck with me.

It's stuck with me because he's breaking the rules and he's living the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

The Gospel marked by the poor hearing good news.

The Gospel marked by the proclamation that the reign of God belongs to the poor.

The Gospel that says the poor are invited to the table.

The Gospel that sees a mark of conversion as giving what you have to the poor.

The Gospel that says, "Love your neighbor as yourself."

The Gospel that says there is no greater love than laying down your life for a friend.

This man, who does not claim to be a Christian, gets all that. He gave up his life and chose a place at the margins of society. Actually, he chose to become a criminal.

Maybe that's why his story has stuck with me most of all. Too often, we've confused Christianity with making good citizens. We expect Christians to be obedient to the state, even using the narrative of a Christian nation so there's not too much scrutiny. We forget that the one who started it all was, indeed, a criminal. It wasn't long before his followers were considered criminals, too.

I'm still sorting out what it all means, but I still remember this one day, when I met this guy.