Gnawing at every fiber of my body, every neural pathway of my existence, if the human being is here in the image of God, if we are supposed to make a difference, if there is the type reward that Christians expect, why is the world in the condition it is in?
My ancestors were some of the first from England to the new world because of their religious convictions. I have inherited every one of their concern precepts, the first image I have in my mind as a child: my mother on her knees at the old family church, washing another saint's feet. In that church, built in 1874 by both my mother and father's great grandparents, the portrait of a distinguished old man. His name was John Henry Whorley, as a child I remember him preaching there, probably his last sermon before his death, a very old man. He brought out something that was as real then as it is today, that God points to ants in His Holy Word, as an example of what human beings should follow. The human being, 23,000 genome; the ant, far, far less. He pointed out that an ant colony took care of one another, prepared for hard times. I remember he pointed out that you put a drop of syrup on the table in the kitchen and before long you have a whole trail of ants, One had found something good, and soon others knew about it, and so it should be with God, Christ, our faith; if we are really serious about our lives and the lives of others, my soul and the soul of others.
I could not help but think, my family, and the many other families in that community, as well as the world community, who go past houses everyday of their lives in which people live who know nothing of the values that make life more livable, religious convictions and traditions, healthiness, discipline and discipleship. For many years of my young life, I would think of the children living on the very road where that church is located, never reached, or even approached by the church. At the schoolhouse, religion was precursory preemptive expectation, college and the military was not bothered by religion even though there was casual references to it, the do-gooder, be better syndrome. I was active my entire college and military career in the local church, but no one seemed to care very much, I was just unusual. I remember at the great Parker Memorial Church in Alabama, since I was not one of the “blue bloods” in town, I was giving the cold shoulder, especially by the other professional people in the church who seemed to be there as just a cover for their lifestyle, pretending, family habit, not really serious about anything but their own success.
I remember speaking at a small baptist church outside of town, a major general (two stars) retired, was in the audience. He said, “you are the first young army officer that I have encountered with a Christian testimony.” He further said, “I spent 35 years as an infantry officer, WWII, never once in all those years did a military chaplain say one thing to me about my soul.”
I can say without fear of contradiction, my many years in the military, never saw a chaplain in any activity except bobbing around with a cocktail glass at the officer's club. My encounters with most ministers of the Gospel has been a disappointing experience. I am sure there are many who have a real conversion, real salvation, real Christ in their life. Religion and church has become so sanitized, organized, rationalized, God convicts through His book, the manufacturer's handbook, which answers every question one ever wants to know about anything. His word is forever settled in heaven. (Psalm 119:89) He honors His Word more than anything else. I will worship toward thy holy temple, and praise thy name for thy lovingkindness and for thy truth: for thou hast magnified thy word above all thy name. (Psalm 138:2) The problem with most Christians, most churches, enough time is not spent with His Word, if the Christians of the world really believed God's Word, the world would have been changed long ago, and we would certainly not be in the mess we are in today.
We have the mistaken impression that we can just put some money in the collection plate, in the Salvation Army kettle, a civic club project of some sort, and we have done our part. There are 1,300 United Way collection points for giving in order to relieve suffering in the world; the second largest charity, the Gates Foundation. If you cannot measure what you want, you do not want what you can measure. There is so much need in the world that we cannot measure it, nor do we actively try to do anything about that which we can measure, there is too much need in the world for an entrepreneur. Most philanthropists collect less than $500,000 a year, we have found, much to our sorrow that this money, so accessible, so unaccounted for, disappears down the black hole of greed. The national president of the Red Cross gets $500,000 a year, The national president of the United Way gets $1 million a year, it is a Christian embarrassment about televangelists and many religious charities.
I have a great interest, not only in the souls of mankind, not only their spiritual needs, but their physical needs as well. What happens to the large percentage of children who do not graduate from high school, the children from single parent homes, the children caught up in the gay agenda, sex slaves on the streets, we read about these things, but have no idea about the real story.
I got a glimpse of human depravity talking with young girls and young men from abuse and want, who had entered the military services. Most of us have no idea about the baggage so many young people carry around. When you talk with them, you can only imagine what is going on in their mind, what they have experienced, the distrust they have for everyone. I learned early, that those who have been unable to trust people whom they can touch, have much difficulty trusting one who is supernatural, praying to, or believing in an inanimate spirit.
I have found that most people do not want to hear the answers to many questions, “the truth hurts”. God wanted me to see conditions around the world, sent me on many round-the world trips, exposed me to life on every level. He blessed me so I could afford a home in New York City as well as in North Carolina, and it was in New York City, completely away from everyone who knew me, that I found the answer to many of these questions for which everyone should be interested.
The first apartment I owned in Manhattan was on Beekman Place, one of the most exciting streets in the city, on the East River. This apartment was on the corner right across the townhouse of Irvine Berlin, across from the South Korean consulate, near the home of Helen Hayes. It was indeed, the supreme transitory existence for this country boy.
About this time Irwin Shaw had written his book, along with the movie, Rich Man, Poor Man, most people with whom I have shared this, which I am sharing with you, have told me that I am crazy. At that time almost totally blind, flickering in and out of New York's richest and poorest postulant properties. One day, I would be in tux at a fancy United Nations soiree, the next day I would be in worn clothing talking with vagrants on the street at a cheap movie house, or questionable bar about their life experiences and what would happen to them at death. Some just thought I was just a crazy, old fundamentalist evangelical, most were fascinated by my life, my interest in them, that someone in this world really cares. I always had religious tracks, often would take someone who was hungry, to a fast food place to eat. I tried to never let them know about my disability. In all the years, only one or two were ever taken to my apartment. These apartment houses, the two in which I lived (12 Beekman Place, 136 East 56th), full-time doormen, elevator men, fresh cut flowers in the lobby, and I had beautiful, well-appointed homes.
I am talking about Ronnie, because he was one who I brought to my apartment, he had the mental agility, the trustworthiness, that he could assist me with cleaning and shopping. Ronnie lived in Spanish Harlem, one of ten children, he was either 17 or 18 at the time I met him, begging on the street. He told me that his entire life, 12 in the family, most meals, 1 dozen eggs, 1 loaf of bread, each person had an egg sandwich. His own father had impregnated all his sisters, he told me about other people who lived in the tenement, about a child in an apartment next to theirs, totally mentally deranged, at home, all day, alone. At night when the father came home, he would hold him out the window and tell him he would drop him if he made a sound while the father was at home.
In order to live, Ronnie had pushed the envelope about as far as he could in every direction. He had been sent to a cooking school which he liked very much, but because of his background, could not get a job. From what I could tell, he was an attractive young men, and have been hit on by the gays in New York, which had turned him against most men, and having seen the decadence of his mother and sisters, was totally against women. In fact, he was mentally antagonistic toward everything in life, like most of these Spanish and blacks in Harlem, he had been baptized into the Catholic church. The entire matter of Christianity, religion was just an unnatural mystery to him.
Ronnie liked music, other than buying food and giving money for pressing needs, I never let any of these desperate people believe that I had money. I did give Ronnie an electric keyboard for Christmas. He was totally amazed that someone would do something for him, asking nothing in return. As I found with so many young people, tossed around by the world in the sea of life, very intelligent, quick learner. I would have him come by about once a week to help me with my house. When in New York, it was obvious that he wanted to spend more time with me, and since I was in New York just one week, each month, I only saw him about once or twice a month.
One day, much to my surprise, he showed up at my home in North Carolina, he had taken the bus from New York, and then walked from the bus station to my house. I will never forget what he said, “you are the only person who has ever been nice to me. You need help, I would like to work for you.” The fact of the matter is, he could do nothing, he could not drive for me, the projects in which I was involved at the time, he knew nothing about. I was restoring a large building on Oleander Avenue, a former famous restaurant which I was restoring into a night club building. I had some people working for me, someone driving for me. After one day, I told him that he was just in the way, that he should go back to New York, I gave him money for the bus, honestly I had done everything I could for this young man, and never saw him again.
I had introduced him to Christianity, I had encouraged him to take advantage of the opportunities which this country offers. I had told him that if he could not find work, he should go into the military service because he had the intelligence, health, desire to make something of his life. This is just one young person who I encountered with experience, experiment in Christian missionary zeal, there were many others. As my acquaintances who have heard about my work, but have no desire to do any missionary work of their own. Who I have told that the God that I worship is quite able and capable of protecting me, giving me the mission and message with no strings attached. The answer, not once, ever, in my pursuing the answers to my questions and bringing the message of redemption and life to those who would listen, did I ever encounter anyone, from any church, any mission, actually working among those who need it most, on a one-to-one basis.
A more recent experience, in one of my rental properties, in which a young man was living. One day when I was checking on another property, he said to me, “I have really made a mess of my life. How have you kept yours so together?” As most Christians, I made the mistake of inviting him to go to church with me, instead of dealing with him on a one-to-one basis. The hardest work in the world is in dealing with another person's soul. It is so much easier to take the person to your place of worship and hope that they will find their answer there, that something will rub off on them.
I said to him, “I will be by to get you Sunday morning to go to church.” It was about a three block walk for me, I knocked on his door with my white cane, of course, he had forgotten. I said, “get ready, I am waiting for you.” He did not have a suit, but he was clean, and his clothes were clean, it was about a two-block walk then to the church (First Baptist Church, Wilmington NC). As he sat beside me in that liberal, pretending church, I thought what would my mind reflect on if I had never been to a protestant church before. When we left, I said to him, “what do you think?” He said, “it was the saddest place I have ever been.”
My first phone call after I had returned to my house, one of the older ladies at the church, she said, “Doctor, who was that young man with you at church this morning?” I said, “he was one of my tenants, he really needs to be in church.” She said, “doctor, you know we like for our men to wear suits to church, dark blue or brown. Now, you know how to dress, you are always dressed well.”
Whether Ronnie, Robert, or anyone else in America, or anywhere else on this earth, the problem and the answer has always been the same. God gave it to us on both sides of the cross: love one another.
