A Distinct Lack of Christian Charity

I still can't believe it.


I was up at the church (First Presbyterian in downtown NLR's Argenta district) for only my second day of work. I was not working on a sermon or getting the music together. I was mopping and resealing the hardwood floor in the entry way to the Fellowship Hall where everyone will enter come Sunday morning. I also put up a curtain I made to cover a doorless doorway into a room that's basically been turned into a storage unit. They really should have a class in guerilla decorating, quick cleaning and furniture moving in seminary. The church hasn't had a cleaning service in a while, but they are creative people and can move quickly. One of our members ran down to her fav restaurant and hired one of the waitresses to come down after her shift to mop the Fellowship Hall. All of this, I can believe. It takes more than prayers and preaching to get a church up and running again.

So, when I was at Grace, we often helped people who came in looking for money for food or gas or medicine. There was one woman who came in over and over. At the time, she called herself Ms. Tatum. If there was a tragedy in town--such as children dying in a fire, a horrific car accident, a shooting--Ms. Tatum claimed kinship to at least one (if not all) of the victims. She has also been the victim of cancer, kidney disease and migraines. At one point, I feared our church secretary might kill her if she showed up one more time. Then we went to a meeting hosted by one of the organizations in town who serves the homeless to learn how we could best serve the people who came in to our churches for handouts. In talking with other churches in the area, we found out that Ms. Tatum had been to them all with a number of tales of woe. I think we figured out that she had buried at least five parents, 10 children and several siblings. There were also quite a few relatives who had suffered disfiguring accidents.

Well, you may have guessed it. I've been out of the country for THREE YEARS and Ms. Tatum arrives on my second day on the job at a new church. The guys who run the recording studio let her in when she came to their door looking for the pastor. This time, she used a different name--even though she remembered me. Perhaps she has married. She claimed to have her wheelchair-bound brother (who had no legs) in the car with two of her kids and they needed gas and food. She also told me she had had cancer again and pulled back her cap to reveal a head full of hair while saying, "See, I've lost all my hair." The other church member who were there helping clean started digging in their purses for money, so I quickly told the former Ms. Tatum that we did not keep cash or food at the church. I gave her four dollars for gas and told her that she was in luck. That much money would get her over to First Pres in Little Rock where they were serving lunch right then. I escorted her out the door, and then told the guys at the recording studio to never let her in again. I am not planning on renewing my relationship with Ms. Tatum. I would like to be a better person, but I only have so much energy to give, and I've decided that spending it on her would not be good stewardship of my resources.