Ripples in a pond.

Saturday night, 7:30. It had been a long day. We had helped with an awesome BBQ fundraiser, hung out with some great people, and taken a nap of epic proportions. We were settling in for a long night of packing up the house and watching TV - when there was a knock at the door.

Goofy. Oh crap.

We had wondered what we would do if he came back. We knew what we were going to do - we were going to go outside, and tell him no-so-politely to never grace our doorstep again with his presence. We prayed silently for guidance, penned the dogs up, and opened the door.

God has a funny way of using pebbles to make ripples that turn into waves. We opened the door - and Fenway, one of our two adorable beagle mixes, darted into the street. The only time I have seen that dog move that fast is when we say "bath," and he runs for a hiding place.

So, as I ran like an idiot across the street, trying to catch our dog, Amy talked to Goofy for a minute. He was scared - no, terrified. And he was drunk.

Amy lit into him. She told him that we could not help him anymore because of the lies that we had been told. We didn't feel safe in our own home because of him. We had reached out to him - and he had responded by lying to us and repeatedly crossing boundaries. We started to tell him why we couldn't help him any more - and then he did the one thing we didn't expect him to do.

He started to cry, and ask - no, beg - for our forgiveness.

As a human being, my reaction should have been to throw him off my porch. As a husband, my reaction should have been to protect my family at any cost. But as a Christian, he had just asked us for forgiveness and for help. What should I do? What could I do?

It took about .05 seconds to give him our response. We forgave him. We told him that we could not forget what he had done, but that we could forgive him. He kept crying. He told us that he had nowhere to go. We made a few phone calls, and came up with an enormous amount of nothing.

Goofy said he wished he could just get out of town. Amy asked him how long it had been since he had spoken to his family. We googled his brother, with no luck. We googled his sister - no luck.

Once again, God provided a pebble. We searched for his brother-in-law. No luck in the town where he lived - but we did find an Eddie C. living 200 miles away. The only phone number we could find was his work telephone number. Hoping against hope, we called the number - and got voicemail.

"Hi, this is Eddie C. If you need to reach me after hours, you can call my cell at blah blah blah...." We dialed the number, and Amy whispered to me, "I'm going to sound like a complete idiot."

She got Mr C. on the phone. Within 2 minutes, Goofy was on the phone with his sister. "Deb? It's me - Richie."

As they talked, Amy sent me on an errand. Our neighbours were sitting outside, so I felt safe leaving for a minute. When I got back, Goofy was off the phone, and Amy was on the Greyhound website.

We are waiting on a phone call to confirm the plan - but, if his sister and brother-in-law come through, Goofy will be getting on a bus tomorrow afternoon to go to Decatur, IL. We will get him clean clothing - I'm not going to subject someone to sitting next to that smell for 7 hours. We will make him food for the trip.

He hasn't seen his sister in 14 years. I'm hoping he can get a new start. I'm hoping he can stay sober and clean.

And I'm hoping, for the first time in a long time, that tomorrow night Goofy will be sleeping in a bed, instead of under a bridge.

Kevin's story.

Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, the words will not come out in the order in which you want them to. This post, written a week ago, was one of those. I almost deleted it - but after church today, I realized I needed to post it.

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Sunday was baptism day at One Life. Baptism day is always special for all involved, but this one was a celebration on a whole different level.

We did our service outside on the Henderson riverfront. Approximate temperature: 176. The first baptism was Kevin. Bret said it was personal for him, and that it was the answer to a lot of prayers. That may be the understatement of the year. It wasn't personal for me. It went far, far beyond that.

Kevin is my brother-in-law. Three years ago to the day he got baptized, I was sitting on the patio of Sportsman's with Kevin and his wife Krista. We were chain smoking and doing shots of Maker's Mark. I was trying in vain to explain to them why their 6 year old daughter had been killed two days earlier. I was searching for a way to tell them how amazing Christ was - while listening to the grief of parents getting ready, in less than 12 hours, to bury their only child.

Brooklynn, their daughter, went to church with us. She was an awesome kid - full of energy and attitude. She could never say my name, so I became "Biq." We would do things to purposely irritate each other, like all kids do. The day of her 6th birthday, she went to church with us - telling anybody who asked, "I'm SIX years old today!" She was growing into an awesome person.

And then, on a hot Tuesday night in July 2008, she was gone. Riding her bike, she was struck by a garbage truck. And so there I was, trying to explain to her parents how awesome Jesus was and how there was a plan in all of this - all the while questioning the plan myself.

Was there a plan? Could there be? Could a loving God allow a six year old to be ripped away from her family, and do it as an act of love? I still don't know the answer to that. I don't know if there is an answer to that.

I said at her funeral that we were left with a hole in our hearts the size and shape of a six year old girl. We tried over the years to reach Kevin - with no success. He respected our beliefs, and we respected his - that religion was "fairy tale time." Kevin went further into a spiral of drugs and alcohol, and we were powerless to do anything about it - except pray.

When Kevin and Krista moved to Nashville, we prayed. When Kevin wrapped his truck around a tree and part of an apartment building, we prayed harder. Eventually - we didn't give up, but it went on the back burner as a "prayer that God hasn't seen fit to answer yet."

Two weeks ago, we got a phone call. Kevin had been at a Christian rehab center - and he had started asking questions about Christ. We went to my mother-in-law's house to meet him, and I expected him to be searching for answers.

Within 30 seconds of talking to him, I realized he wasn't searching. He had found answers. The change in him was immediate and dramatic. We talked frankly about our shared history of substance abuse, and about Christ - and we started talking about baptism. I told him we had baptisms coming up at One Life. He pondered it for a few minutes.

And so there we were, on a Sunday morning so hot that i sweated through both shirts I was wearing, watching a scene I had prayed for but never imagined would happen. A man I never thought would be baptized went under and came back up. His arms were raised in the air in triumph.

I couldn't tell if I had sweat rolling into my eyes, or if i was crying. I'm not sure it matters. It wasn't my story. It wasn't my day.

It was about this:

(Thanks to Jeff Seymore for use of his amazing image.)

The end of the Goofy saga.

A recap:

Goofy is a homeless man who showed up at the house a few weeks ago. We fed him, and he came back. We bought food for him and his campmate, Richard (who we knew from our first outreach). We went so far as to do his laundry. Then, we discovered that he had been lying to us.

Goofy told us that he had esophageal cancer. He doesn't. He is addicted to prescription pain pills, and uses fake cancer as his ruse to get pain pills. Based upon that, and several other things (like him and Richard showing up at our house so drunk they could barely stand, repeatedly), we decided that we could no longer help him, or have him come to our house. We would send him in the direction of resources, but we could not have him in our lives if he was going to take advantage of it.

We had arranged to meet Goofy last Wednesday, 6:30 PM at the park by our house. We were going to give him food, and tell him that was it. He never showed. We waited 30 minutes, and he never came.

Now that you're caught up:

Last night at 10:15, the phone rang. It was an Evansville number that I didn't recognize. I answered (which, if you know me, is a minor miracle in itself). It was Goofy - and wow, was he hammered.

"We were wondering if you could help us out with some food."

My first instinct was yes. After all, Amy and I are called to feed homeless people - there is no question about that. And we had a bag of food in my car that we had bought for him, after all. He even played the "We haven't eaten yet today" card, which tears at me in a way I don't quite understand.

But then I paused. "Where ya been, man? We haven't seen you in a few days."

"Yeah, I was in the hospital with a cracked tooth. I bit down on something that had a bone in it, and cracked a tooth, so I was in the hospital for a few days."

They don't keep you for 48 hours for childbirth anymore - much less a cracked tooth. I have yet to see anyone hospitalized for a cracked tooth. And anyway, it's very hard to have a cracked tooth when you have full dentures. (The first thing he ever asked us to buy him was denture cream. Wonder if he thought we forgot that?) Cracked dentures don't get you a hospital visit - they get you a tube of super glue.

Apart from that, it was 10:15 at night, and he hadn't eaten - but he did have enough money to manage to get booze. Seriously? You're going to spend all your money on liquor, and then decide to call me because you don't have food? No. I am called to do outreach - not handouts.

So, I went against every instinct I have, and did the most heartless thing I could do.

I told a hungry man no.

It was the right thing to do. It was what I was supposed to do. It was, for my safety and the safety of my family, what I needed to do.

And none of that helped me sleep last night.

Today, at 11:15AM, he called Amy. He, again, asked if we could get him some food. Amy was at work, and she very bluntly told him that we were at work and could not help him any more. She pointed him in the direction of several resources, and even gave him names of people to talk to at agencies.

At 6:45 tonight, the phone rang. It was Richard. He asked us if we could help them with food. We were much nicer to Richard - but, again, we told him that we could not.

Interesting that they had money to get minutes for their cell phone - but they didn't have money for food. They had money for booze - but they didn't have money for food.

It's raining outside right now. Thunder, lightning, the works. All I can think of is those two guys, sleeping under a bridge. I prayed earlier for them to get food. I'm irritated and saddened that it had to come to this - but we simply had no choice. I know that.

But it's still not going to be easy to sleep tonight.