• This note is a little different. Let me give you a brief description of the need, then I’ll offer some of the backstory. The need is this: my neighbor, Martin, a Danish man in his early 50s, has been in Copenhagen for several months and will need to find an economical place to stay in the area when he returns. He has fallen into difficult circumstances and needs help. He is not a believer, but is a warm and congenial man and a good friend. He turned to me for help because, in his words, “I know you are part of a caring community.” If he could find a place with other men, a mother-in-law room or cottage, or if you know of an inexpensive rental — any of these could work.
• I’m not sure how to convey the backstory, but I’ll start with this. Throughout the course of my life with Christ (since my middle-teens), I have had a series of confused notions about how to live out the Gospel among non-believers. I’ve passed through all the phases you might imagine: the fear-of-rejection phase, in which you speak as anyone else, with the exception of subtle references to your faith that you hope might prompt a deeper conversation; the apologetic, defender-of-the-faith phase, in which you seek out suitable adversaries for good-natured intellectual sparing, attempting to show them how your worldview is superior to theirs; the utilitarian, Jesus-worked-for-me-and-he-
• But by the time I met Martin I no longer had an uneasy, self-conscious faith. I knew God, knew his word was true, genuinely believed he had sent his son because he “so loved the world,” and had spent enough time in philosophy to understand that all worldviews are based on faith, so no system is intellectually inferior on that score (a fear I had had about Christianity when I was younger). When we first met in our driveways my first thought was, “this guy looks like he could use a friend.” Since God tells me to love my neighbor as myself, it was a no-brainer.
• Fairly early on, when he learned my work was the pastorate, I said jokingly, “Martin, I am the most conservative Christian you will ever meet.” But by then he already knew I cared about him and he said, “what does that matter?” We talked now and then, usually in the driveway. Then this past winter, after he found some skis on Craigslist, we spent a day at Crystal: four hours in the car and lots more on lifts and lunch. That day sort of sealed our friendship, and made it natural for him to reach out a couple days ago. We talked on Skype and fumbled, as most men do, through that part of the conversation where we admit we think of each other as important friends. At the end I asked if I could pray for him and he said, in a firm, clear voice, “yes.”
• In recent years I’ve meditated often on the fact that Christ was completely untroubled by eating with “sinners and tax collectors” (Mk 2:16; Mt 9:11), and also on Jesus’ comment that God is kind to the “ungrateful and the evil” (Lk 6:35). The overall effect has been God’s persistent urging to be more “randomly generous” in my dealings with all people. To love indiscriminately. I’m not good at it (not false modesty), but I’m listening and committed to learning. It would be consistent with the character of God’s love if somehow we could find a place for Martin to live. So, pray with me for that and we’ll see what God does. Thank you.