Got a call from a local pastor

I got a call sometime just before Thanksgiving from the preacher of a local church I used to help out a while ago.

A few years back I used to help out a couple weeknights a month at a homeless shelter downtown. I would generally help set up the chow line, serve chow and help clean up.

The shelter took in homeless men and would open at about 1700 and serve chow at 1800. During the first hour bedding would be issued and the guys would grab a rack and make up their bunks. Then they would be fed a meal.

At first I enjoyed it but as time went on I grew disgusted as I had asked any number of them if they wanted work and none of them seemed interested. I needed help with a downed tree just stacking things up as I bucked it up and nobody wanted to help me. There were a few other things I needed done and offered a very generous wage but got no takers.

Some time back when I was a more active hunter I would generally bag a buck and a doe and one or the other (generally the buck) would wind up being sent to the church to be used to feed the guys at the shelter. Seeing as to how my work schedule was a mess whe I couldn't get out someone else I knew would take up the slack.

I'd just schlep whoever supplied the deer the processing fee out of generosity.

The venison we supplied would provide a number of meals between Thanksgiving and New Year's and the homeless guys loved it. Any time the shelter served venison it would disappear in a heartbeat. There were never any leftovers.

I haven't been out in a few years but I have scraped up a couple of deer for the church each year until last the season a year ago when I stopped.

I stopped because I got a call from one of the hunters that used to attend that particular church. I haven't been to the church itself in years for a service.

My friend told me that John, the pastor there had given a sermon on the evils of firearm ownership and that he had walked out in the middle of the sermon.

When he got up he glared at John and made him uncomfortable in his pulpit John asked him what was wrong and my friend asked Pastor John if he thought the deer we supplied the homeless shelter just jumped into the truck and hopped into the butcher shop.

It as an uncomfortable moment to say the least and my friend simply walked out. The next day he called me and the group of us simply stopped supplying any venison for the church to serve to the shelter.

A couple of months later I heard that the program took a pretty good chunk of change in the form of the grant from either the state or the county so I stopped making my annual donation to the church.

I simply forgot about it and went about my business.

Over this last Thanksgiving holiday I got a call from Pastor John. He was wondering why the guys had stopped supplying venison.

"Because you bit the hand that fed you, Pastor," I replied. "You told the very hunter that was feeding you to turn in his gun. Actions have consequences. You alienated every single hunter and gun owner in the church. Bet the following Sunday you were shy a few members."

There was a silence as he gathered his thoughts. "I also noticed that donations for the program are down," he said. Then he asked, "Do you know why?"

"In my case my donation stopped when the shelter itself took a governmental grant," I explained. "I generally only donate to private charties because as soon as they accept government money they don't need mine because they already have it."

"I don't understand," he said.

"Pastor, actions have consquences. When you told Tom Lewis to turn in his deer rifle, what did you expect? When I made it clear to you that I only donate to private institutions that take no government money what did you expect when the shelter took government money? To put a point on it, Pastor, you seem to think you can just go on your merry way and expect everyone to go along with whatever half-baked idea you come up with," I answered. "It's not all peace, love and earth flags. Someone's got to get up in the morning and go to work and although the working guy can be generous he doesn't like being taken advantage of."

"I don't understand," he stammered.

"Understand this, Pastor," I said. "I used to cough up my hundred bucks and on top of that, pay the money to have the deer butchered and packaged out of my own pocket. I did this to be kind and because nobody told me I had to."

I continued. "When the shelter took the grant they were getting my money that the government had taken from me by force in the form of taxes. They then give it to whomever and I have no say as to where it goes. You have my money. It was given to you by the government and since you have my money already I'm certainly not going to give you more."

He asked me why I no longer help out there and pointed that I got along pretty well with the guys and I told him I was disgusted because every time I had offered them something to do and make a few bucks they fed me excuses. I tried to help and they didn't want it, preferring to take what they could get for little or no work.

Next he asked me why I seemed to get along so well with the homeless.

I told him that I had been there before in a similar way, living in the elements and eating what I could scrape up. The difference between us was that I decided to change my ways and start taking better care of myself. I also told him I was 38 years old when I embarked on my present career.

He asked me if we could get together and I agreed to it after I got back to town. He did, too.

When he showed up I offered him a little taste but he refused as he said he had another call to make that evening. He did accept a diet coke and I poured myself a dallop of Jameson's.

One thing he asked me is what would happen if the shelter closed. I knew it was an effort to tug at my heartstrings but he found differently.

"A small few that truly can't take care of themselves will be in trouble," I admitted. "The rest will likely find another shelter. If they all closed it actually might be a good thing for most of these guys. They will be given more choices. They will either be forced to start taking care of themselves of continue on the drug and alcohol road. Nothing wrong with a bit of tough love. You do know that it is entirely possible that one of the younger ones might make something of himself and invent something or cure a disease or something. At the least they will start taking care of themselves and even if they wind up working in a warehouse or as a landscaper they'll stop being a drain on the rest of us."

"You really believe that?" It was clear he was dubious. "How about that guy you spent time with there? The little guy that was a light skinned black man?"

"Oh, him? I answered. "Interesting man. He wasn't from around here. He was a former Navy third class and he had a bellyfull of living on the streets. We batted a few ideas around and he found himself a job. Remember when he came back a few months later visiting?"

" I think I recall that," said Pastor John.

"He was looking for people that wanted to work in the warehouse that hired him. Needless to say he found none," I said. "He's a good man and I met him downtown by mistake a while back and he has an apartment and looked good."

"Why is that," asked Pastor John.

"Because he made the choice between being a bum and being something. It was all up to him," I replied. "Look, Pastor here's what you can do if you want to help those people. Burn the shelter down and replace it with an office and get someone to simply take calls and messages for them. Put in a shower or two and a couple of washing machines. Find some tough broad to run it that they can't walk over and make them responsible to take care of the place. A few of these guys are actually worth saving and the biggest thing they need is some sort of address where they can be found when they are needed. If they are any good, that's all they need. These guys need a hand-up and not a handout."

We discussed the issue for a while longer but the truth is that it was a waste of time. I don't think Pastor John really wanted to learn anything so I figure I really didn't teach him anything.

Sometimes I wonder why I bother.

　

　


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