Posts Tagged ‘death’

Since being in Seattle God has given many of us new eyes to see those around us who are hurting and need love. We have been able to become friends with many who call the street their home. Men and women who literally live under the bushes behind the theater we meet in for our Sunday morning gathering of Epic Life Church. These men and women have their street name, but are always introduced to us by their given names. One such man, whom God gave me the privilege to come to love and call, “Friend,” is Ken Weed.

Ken is 45 and has been on the street for around five years. He has a nursing degree from the University of Washington and was working in a local hospital up until he got drunk in a bar late one night and got into a fight that consequently got him sent to jail and then fired. He has told me many times how much he regrets that night, but now looks at the cold facts of being a drunk, homeless and jobless without opportunity for something better.

Over the past three years Ken has become part of the Epic Life family. Most of the time we would see Ken he would be drunk, much too drunk to carry on a good conversation. Often at the end of a Sunday service he would find himself passing by me and reaching out for a hug telling me, “You know I need help quitting, or You know so and so needs help, or You know I’m trying.”

Early this past winter I was leaving my office later than usual and as I walked out into the dark parking lot Ken approached me out of the drizzly Seattle rain. He was cold and hungry. I was late getting home and knew dinner was already on the table, but I paused. I can still see his eyes; there was death in those eyes.

“What would it matter?” Was his question. I knew what he meant. “What would it matter if he killed himself that night? No one would miss him and the pain would be over.” “No one cares, do they Pastor Keith?”

“No one cares, do they Pastor Keith?”

The knife cut deep. I didn’t know what to do. There is so much life; good and bad choices; abused and abuser that brought us to that interaction late that night. I was confronted with so much. Pastors, mentors, counselors and well meaning people in my mind telling me my family needs me, he’ll be OK. “You can’t help everyone.” “He got himself to this place.” “You’ve have already put 60 hours in this week, go home.” “You need some ‘me’ time.” “You don’t have the money to help him.”

Really?

I knew he was heading around the back of my office to sleep on the cold concrete out of the rain without food, without a blanket. So I put my arm around him and said, “I care Ken. I would miss you.” I walked him to my van and we drove to the 125th St. Grill, just up Aurora Ave. This happens to be the same restaurant where I attend a weekly Rotary meeting. We walked into the restaurant together, me talking to him like he was clean, well kept and a paying customer; well, like he was my friend.

We sat in a booth facing each other by a window. I wondered if he was feeling all the looks from the other restaurant patrons; those questioning eyes; those raised eye-brow conversations. He ate a very large steak complete with juicy goodness running down his full scraggly beard and a cigarette break outside. I ate pasta, with a clean face and no cigarette break. He was dirty and smelled really bad. I was clean and didn’t smell as bad.

We talked and drank some coffee and had some dessert for another hour. I talked about what surrendering to Christ would be like. He wants to, but thinks he can’t. That Jesus wouldn’t accept a drunk like him. I told him Jesus comes looking for us even when we are drunk.

We left the restaurant that night with a deeper friendship. I drove him back to my office, got him a blanket and handed him my left over pasta, gave him a big hug and said, “Ken, you’ve got to hold on, for just a little longer.” He and I parted that night going in such different directions on so many levels. As I drove towards my warm home and happy family I knew that, at least that night, God had allowed me to bring Ken back from the brink of death. He would remind me of that night many times in the coming weeks.

It was soon after the events of that night that Ken enrolled himself in a six month recovery program at the Salvation Army. We were all so ecstatic and happy for him. I would get several phone calls over the next few weeks and he sounded so good. I felt that there was hope and that Ken would make it out of the enemy’s ditch and it wouldn’t be long that Ken would be recovered completely and working and living in an apartment. The future looked good.

But that isn’t how it worked out.

Ken decided the program was too hard and left after just two months only to find himself back on the streets and soon back to the bottle. This time the intoxication was worse.

Some of the street people told him not to go to Epic Life anymore because we were mad at him. But we found him on the street and made sure he knew we still loved him and would be there for him, but wanted to see him leave this life of being imprisoned by alcohol. But he went downhill pretty fast.

About three weeks ago, late at night, I received a phone call from a number I didn’t recognize. It was Ken from an emergency room several miles north of our home. I wrote a recent blog post about that night and if you want to know this piece of the story in depth read that here. June 22nd Post 

Long story short, Ken had stolen a $45 bottle of Jack Daniels and drank it all, as he walked north. The ambulance picked him up face down on the side of Aurora Ave. I picked him up and told him that we were going to go back to the store and pay for the bottle. I told him that in the absence of him having any money that I would pay for it, but he promised me he would come back with me in two weeks and he would pay the debt.

I dropped him off at the park that night. In my heart I knew he would not make it another month.

I saw him one more time.

This Tuesday I receive the call from Alicia, who works at a local market, which is also the local street hot line in the neighborhood. She told me she had just heard that Ken’s body had been found on Monday morning. I wasn’t shocked, but my heart sank hard. I would later learn from the Medical Examiner that he probably died on Saturday and lay there in the empty lot behind the China Dragon for two days.

I felt like the “walls” of the world were closing in on me and I couldn’t make out what my thoughts should be. Tears started to fill my eyes. Images of Ken started flashing through my mind; the times we played cribbage in front of Qdoba just before church started, his smile at the block party, his intoxicated hugs after worship, even his smell wafting through the layers of coats.

Then all I could think of was the debt that was still owed at Bartell Drugs; $48.00 for a missing bottle of Jack Daniels.

Soon I found myself sitting on a curb in Bartell’s parking lot, weeping for my friend. My head buried in my hands with tears pouring through my fingers and pooling up on oil stained asphalt. My grief was so great and uncontrolled. I felt I had lost a close friend who almost made it out of the darkness, but was taken under as I watched.

Finally I stood up and wiped my face off and walked into the store. The first isle I came to was the liquor isle where I happened to find the manager also. I looked at her after she identified herself and said, “This is going to sound a bit strange, but…” and I shared much of this story with her.

As I told her that my friend had stolen the bottle and I was there to pay for it, she was taken back. She knew the day and knew that there had been a loss of inventory, so she headed to the counter. Her movements where slow, like she was purposefully moving methodically so she could think this through. Then she said it.

“Why?”

“I don’t understand why you are doing this.” She said through her green eyes that seemed to want to cry.

Tears instantly started down my checks, right there at the checkout, 8:30 pm. I told her that I am well aware of what debt means and when there is debt there needs to be payment. I told her that I had a grand debt that I couldn’t pay and the penalty was death. But that Jesus paid that debt for me, offering be an unmerited Grace. And I got to share the Gospel with her and tell her at the end that Jesus paid that debt for her also.

So I handed her $40 and she said,

“I’ll need $8 more.”

With a smile I paid the rest and said good night and as I left the building I heard her turn to a coworker and start relaying the story.

I cried a lot last night, all the way home, in front of my oldest son, and most of the night. Kristine is gone this week with my youngest three, so the night was long and quiet. I really needed her, but maybe it was good for me to be alone. There are so many questions. Did we do enough? What could have we done? Do we know how blessed we are? Why am I not in Ken’s shoes; why weren’t our circumstances switched? What do we learn? How can we do better next time?  Will this make me calloused? What was that I told him. “Just hold on Ken, for a little long.”

We will hold a memorial serve this coming week for those who knew Ken. We will celebrate life and eternal Hope and we will continue praying and working to see Seattle transformed through an epic life in Christ Jesus. For this is what we have been called to do and it is what we will do with confidence.

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The Eventual Day

Posted: November 18, 2010 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , ,

So many important things,

Lose their significance.

When a life is broken.

We travel at light speed,

but forced to stop.

When tragedy is spoken.

We are strong

we are tough

we are indestructible,

except when we’re not.

 

We are taught that we must

succeed and be on top.

We cry, “I have arrived!”

Men pursuing the next

level of recognition.

In that, our worth derived.

We are tenacious

we are rugged

we are unbreakable,

except when we’re shot.

 

Buy the house of prestige,

get the car of distinction.

Producing the right perception.

Extremely clean on the outside

but dieing on the inside.

Because of the deception.

We are solid

we are stable

we are impenetrible,

except when we’re caught.

Some tell us to ignore

our hidden eternal soul.

You’re too young to die just yet.

Pamper your precious body,

make your days full of bliss.

Thinking about the end causes fret.

We’re trying to be strong

we’re trying to be tough

we’re trying to be eternal.

Stumbling at Night we will grope.

Come to find out

our lives are fragile.

In just an instance life disappears.

One inescapable moment

brings life to a hault.

Cutting off the expected years.

We think we’re strong

we think we’re tough

we think we’re immortal,

But we will come to the end of our Rope.

 

There will be a day

when you’re driving along.

Thinking of the days to come.

You will crest the hill

one eventual day.

And you’ll hear the final drum.

Are you strong?

Are you tough?

Are you immortal?

Do you have eternal Hope?

Just a couple of weeks ago Epic Life Church had an amazing worship night at the AXIS property. It was a night of beauty and wonder as we rocked the house singing praise to God who is more than worthy of our praise.  It is awesome to be able to enter into a night of worship with new believers and new friends. Worship that night consisted of a lot of music, a bit of spoken word and four baptisms. I have to say that mixing baptism with worship music and a lot of fellowship is one awesome event. It all created such an amazing environment for worship.

The four individuals who were baptized were such a blessing to be with too. One had been a Christian for quite some time and had never taken the step to baptism and felt God calling her to do so that night with much joy. Another had been walking with God but had gotten off track over the years and was being called to step back into pace. She is seeing much change and beauty in her life. Two others are new Christ Followers who have just given their lives over to the Savior and wanted to show that transformation to the world. It was a beautiful night of Life, Transformation and Power!

We had just wrapped up the evening and Kristine was heading home when she received a call from one of our neighbors that there was a robbery and beating near our home and the assailant was still at large. Kristine called me and I dropped everything and rushed home to find ten emergency response vehicles in our driveway.  The night of Life we had just experienced was immediately shattered as we found out that a man was beaten with a table leg just two houses away from us and taken to the hospital in critical condition. We now know that this man died from the head trauma. Our night of Life turned quickly to a night of Death.

We are reminded that we live in a sinful and fallen world where death rules and the Enemy comes “to steal, kill and destroy.”  We are literally watching as the world around us that is precariously held together with the facade of a superficial idea of life is in fact falling apart.

As baptism represents the transformation of spiritual death to life, we are constantly faced with Satan’s attempts to bring people from life to death, physically and spiritually. We are constantly reminded that what we are doing, introducing people to a life with Christ, is vitally important here in our own neighborhood and there in your very backyard.