Is Jesus At Church?

Yesterday the church I attend was broken into. I started asking the typical safety and security questions, “Was anyone hurt?”  (No.) “How did they get in?”  (In military terms – ‘a soft perimeter.’) 

That led to the more important questions, “Who was it? What did they want?”  The short answers were, “A meth addict. Money, food.”

Those are the short answers. The longer answers require greater introspection. Allow me to share our journey.

Seventeen years ago, our oldest child suffered sexual trauma at thirteen years old. The perpetrators were not caught as they were never accused. College men who never spent a day in jail. Our daughter was left broken. Shackled to shame.  She began to self-medicate with alcohol and cigarettes and graduated to every kind of narcotic. With that self-medication came impulsive and reckless decisions that brought criminal charges, further cementing her identity of worthlessness.

Before you read this and think there were no sunny moments in that time, there were. She graduated high school via GED.

She brought three gorgeous children into the world, despite her fears and flaws.

My daughter has helped other people with substance use disorder to have safe places to sleep, food to eat, birthday parties for their children when they couldn’t afford it, and yes, even drugs when the pain of detox became too strong. She has counseled others to stop, which may seem ironic. She has told others, “There is no happily ever after for addicts or dealers. Prison is the only happy ending, because you’re not dead. You have a chance to start over.”

My daughter is part of a club that most of us do not want to be in, are thankful not to be a part of, and don’t understand.

Yet when we are honest with ourselves, we often choose NOT to understand.  We choose to label and dismiss. Labels dehumanize. Neutralize. Even make us feel superior.

My husband and I have heard our daughter called every label. Junkie, crackhead, loser, lost cause, whore.

I’m not blaming anyone. I would be a total hypocrite if I sat in judgment of those who wish to walk away from being caught in the wake of a person in the throes of substance use disorder. I cannot begin to tell you the toll it has taken on our family, our emotions, our finances. There is a lot of gut-wrenching pain and disappointment that goes along with loving someone who has the disease of addiction. I have held my daughter in my arms while she was overdosing. She has died and been revived so many times I have no doubt of the mercy of God.

My husband and I share a twisted sense of humor that is a handy defense mechanism against this pain. We once spent an entire date night coming up with endings for the start of this phrase, “You might be the parent of an addict if…..”   

Eat your heart out Jeff Foxworthy.

Here’s a sample. “You might be the parent of an addict if…. You’ve ever been investigated by DCYF.”  (We got a 5 star rating on our Parent App in case you were wondering.)

“You might be the parent of an addict if….. You have ever been called an enabler, foolish, a sucker for never giving up on your child.”  ( Walk in our shoes, please.)

“You might be the parent of an addict if….. Your daughter has ever made the front page of the newspaper for prostitution and internet trolls called her out as ugly and her parents as losers.”  (Yup, that stung. I cried.)

“You might be the parent of an addict if…. You have learned the geography of your state and surrounding states based upon trips to courthouses and prisons. Especially if you have preferences for which courthouse you want to go to.”  (Newburyport, MA is a real scenic courthouse drive. Highly recommend.)

“You might be the parent of an addict if….. You have a personal preference for which drug your child gets high on.”  ( Answer: Heroin. Makes our daughter sleep. Kids are soooo cute when they are sleeping!)

I am writing all this because I want to share the longer answer to the “Who was it?” question.

He is someone’s son. Maybe a little girl’s daddy. Someone loved. A man burdened with pain – emotional or physical, maybe both – and shame, so much shame.  A child of God made in His image.

“What did he want?” 

Let me remind you of an important fact. He didn’t break into a home, a library or a bank. He broke into a CHURCH. Spiritual real estate, so to speak.  A broken man broke into the place that represents a safe sanctuary for the broken and the lost.  

Church is the place where sinners worship and proclaim the holy name of Jesus – the son of God who allowed His body to be broken on a cross because of His overwhelming love for us.

See the theme here? (#BROKEN)

The Washington Post recently reported, “Nationwide, federal and local officials are reporting alarming spikes in drug overdoses – a hidden epidemic within the coronavirus pandemic. Emerging evidence suggests that the continued isolation, economic devastation and disruptions to the drug trade in recent months are fueling the surge.”  

In a time of a pandemic, this man brought forth pandemonium into our church. In his isolation, he went looking for more than money or food. He could have found those anywhere. He went to a church. Where the hands and feet of Jesus are supposed to be.

Will he find someone there who will look after him in his sickness or visit him in prison?  

Jesus referred to this in Matthew 25:42 -46.

⁴² For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, ⁴³ I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’

⁴⁴ “They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’

⁴⁵ “He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’

Verse 46 tells what happens to those who ignore the ‘least of these.’

⁴⁶ “Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”

I am not advocating that there be no consequences to his actions. He broke the law when he broke into the church. However, I pray that he also finds mercy that triumphs over judgment, compassion coupled with connection. I pray for no more labels. I pray his family is warmly welcomed. I pray that my church sees an opportunity, not an obstacle.

I pray Jesus is still in church.

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