Cold

When a friend of mine from out of town visited church with me, he noted cheerfully that every person he met had introduced him- or herself as a recovering addict, an ex-convict, a resident of a homeless shelter, or some combination of the three. As I've written before, it's one of my favorite things about our church that everybody is welcome.

At the same time, it raises interesting issues, and ones that have never been part of my church life before. The other morning, it was so cold that my damp hair froze all crackly on my way out to the car. That afternoon, I had lunch with some folks from church, and part of our discussion surrounded what to do about a woman who had left the homeless shelter in town to seek drugs. She'd done it several times before, so she had been told she couldn't return. The shelters have to have strict regulations to protect the other recovering addicts who have sought refuge there--it's important that the places be drug-free for them.

So this woman had moved in with her on-again, off-again boyfriend, who allowed her in occasionally for sex or for some of the money she earned through prostitution. But on this particular bitterly cold day, he had locked her out.

What is a person to do? Maybe Jesus would say, go and find her and bring her into your own home, and if she goes out and gets high and wants to come back, then let her back in. Maybe he would say, if she comes back with some scary "friends" or creditors or clients, invite them in too.

I think the awkward solution that was hit upon was for a couple of people from church, including one guy who is the tallest real-life person I have ever seen (with a heart as large, to match), to go with Lori, who's a gifted counselor, and find her and take her back to the on-again, off-again boyfriend, and tell him that he has to let her in for now.

I still don't know what the right thing was to do. Or maybe I do, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.