Let Them Eat Cake

On a quiet little street in a quiet little neighborhood there stood a manse next to a church nestled among other churches, homes, and quaint neighborhood business. Since it was out of vogue for pastors to live in old brick manses, it was offered for very reasonable rent to those in need of housing. Occasionally pastors would live there, or a missionary family home on furlough, or someone who knew someone who knew someone who went to that church.

Three miles away in an inner city neighborhood lived a man and his family. They had lived in this inner city neighborhood for fourteen years without nary a problem, until one day terror was struck into his heart in the form of a threat of violence towards his children. This threat was very real. Time was not available for putting an aging inner city house on the market nor was there time to search for a new place to go.

The man thought of the vacant house sitting next to the church he and his family had been members of for many years. The church in the quiet neighborhood. The neighborhood that did not have drugs nor threats of violence living next door. Next door was a church surrounded by parking lot. A church that currently employed the man and his family and had been for many years.

The move brought many new opportunities to every member of the man's family.

Knowing how blessed he was, the man threw open the doors and welcomed in family, friends, and strangers. His children grew, got jobs, graduated, went to college, married. Friends were given refuge at the old manse.

The years rolled on. The man lost two jobs in one year, worked out of state for a year, and one year became a grandfather. The doors opened wider.

As it happens, things changed in the quiet little neighborhood and at the church next door. Still people kept knocking at the door of the manse. The man chose to believe that a stranger should not be turned away. He dispensed information to those seeking it. Rides to people in a crisis. Occasionally money, but only occasionally because money was never plentiful. It never had been, which enabled him to understand the feelings of those who knocked.

The man had been accused of much in his life. He grew up knowing he was the bastard son of a man as devote to his beliefs as those at the church next door. It was his deep desire that he not live his life in an unauthentic manner. The man found this difficult to do at times. Truth is gritty and uncomfortable to wear. Honesty tends to offend. Owning his failures became a long term struggle. His children watched him and learned. From the successes, but also from the failures.

With the children grown and leaving and years left on his lease the man thought to the future. Opening the door wider to the possibilities of easing the load of family spinning downward in the spiral of aging and dementia. A quiet neighborhood, the familiar church, surrounded by family seemed an answer to the man.

But as always, things happen.

One day a friend from the church next door came over. He told the man that the manse where he had lived for many many years was an eyesore and a money pit. A decision had been made and was final that the man must move as soon as arrangements to do so could be made.

The man felt sad, confused, and a little lost. He had grown to love the old manse with the porch swing from which he could observe his quiet neighborhood. He looked at his finances and decided that he would be willing to buy the old manse that had provided safety and shelter to his family and friends.

The friend from the church next door came back. The friend said it was as a favor to the man that they would not sell him the old manse. The man would be stuck with an old manse in a parking lot if he ever needed to sell it. You will be thankful later, the friend said.

The man sought counsel with the only Father he ever knew. A house near the edge of the quiet neighborhood was purchased. The people at the church next to the old manse cheered. Although the man felt at home in his new house, he still felt very sad, confused, and a little lost.

Soon plans appeared to replace the old manse with more parking lot. The people at the church next door were very happy about this. They all voted yes. No more eyesore. No more money pit.

One day large equipment arrived and blew over the old manse. It all fell down. The empty hole was filled with dirt. In the spring, grass grew.

The man packed up his sadness and made a lovely little home of his recently purchased house. He was happy there. But every day as he pulled up to the church where he still worked in the parking lot where he used to live he keenly felt the confusion that still lingered.

The people at the church surrounded by parking lot were all excited. The money pit eyesore had been removed. There was a celebration. There was even cake. The man did not eat any of it.

Now new plans could be made at the church surrounded by parking lot. The man was told that soon people would flock there from other churches. Money would flow in. Watch and see, they said, things are happening here. Long term plans were laid out, large purchases were made. The people all voted yes. There were even more celebrations. More cake.

Many many good things did happen. And the man was happy when they did. People from the not so quiet anymore neighborhood came. But they did not have any money. The had needs.

When the man arrived at the church surrounded by parking lot he would ponder things. The man had a history of making big plans. Of buying things before he had the money in his hand. Of inviting God to bless his plans. He thought he understood. So he shared his ponderings. They were not well received.

One day the man had a meeting with two people from the church surrounded by parking lot. They gave him a severance letter and told him that he would no longer be needed at the church surrounded by parking lot. The man had worked there for twenty-two years. Shock and anger were the emotions he felt then. He may have even sinned in his anger. He was quite possibly rude.

He returned to his home sad and confused to ponder things over with the only Father he has ever known, and with the knowledge that all he has lost is money.

I wrote this in May of this year for THGGM. Several people whom I deeply respect asked if I would share it here. So I am.