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The Spiritual Life
September 2000My Home is Invaded by Four Men... and God.By Rev. Michael Lee Burgess It began with an infection of the imagination. They thought that the world they saw on television was real. They watched the propaganda and they believed that everyone had more than they did. They felt in their guts that they were being cheated and wanted more, and they wanted it right now. Just like everyone on TV had. Such a little sin, envy. Then it grew into irritation, and confusion between wants and needs; then feeling hurt and left out; then injustice, self righteousness, and anger. They worked themselves up until they stopped being individuals. They forgot that they were children of God, of sacred worth, and because they were so important, responsible to God for their actions. Instead they turned into a mob, and four is enough to be a mob when your emotions are ruling your life. They were young, and that made it even harder to remember their best selves. The insecurity you feel when you are young made them long to be part of something powerful. Something powerful enough to drive all ambiguity, doubt and fear away, the power of a group. A temptation we have always had in the human family. So they worked out a plan and got surgery gloves, a bowie knife, a long club with spikes in it made out of a shovel handle and long thin screws. They would go to the rich part of town and break in, cut the phones lines and take the handsets so they couldn't call the cops. Then they would get those rich people to give them the money they deserved. Rich people all have money just lying around, they knew this because they had seen it on television. And they knew just how to scare those people, they had seen it on TV. They waited for darkness, they wait all day until it is very late. They would go when it was late and the cops weren't around and no nosy neighbors. They waited and waited, all day and most of the night, getting scared and tense. Finally it was after 3:00 a.m., which had to be late enough. They start walking toward those "rich" people in the north. Country Club Road, that was a rich person's address for sure. They walk from shadow to shadow, hiding from each car. Finally they saw an almost new white Caravan with Gold hubcaps. Rich people drive those kinds of cars. They punched out the window and looked though the car. Did anyone hear us? Only silence, it is 3:50 a.m. Disappointment, only one purse and not much money (my mom's). Let's circle around the house and get those rich people, their holding out on us. The front door is locked, but the garage door gives if you push hard enough. Wow, lots of cases of pop. They grab a bunch and take them across the road. Damn, nothing else valuable in the garage. It looks just like a bunch of beat up old stuff. Where's the new stuff? They try the back door, if we twist hard enough, its grinding, just a bit more…. The scene shifts. I am in the library at the back of the house, I have just gotten Kurt's computer working again. His friend had taken it away for a week to upgrade it, and it came back dead. It wouldn't even boot. Finally I got it going and sat back for the real test. Kurt started up a game and it worked great. I love it when I outsmart a computer. I turned around and started my computer to get my email before sleep. Maybe I should go to sleep now, I am very tired, no, I need to finish my work so I can relax and sleep. Only 35 messages, that should be all right. Out of the corner of my eye I see some young men coming around the bookcase, "Give us money or youa goin get hurt". I thought to myself, "Kurt's friends sure give him a lot of grief." They said it louder, "We mean it." I turned to Kurt, "Those guys friends of yours?" He said, "I've never seen them before in my life." Oh… Then I looked at them. They were all dark skinned. The one closest to me doesn't have a shirt on and looks very well muscled, but young in his earring and short black hair. The guy behind him had a bandit handkerchief over his face and a BIG knife, then there was a guy after that with his T-shirt over his head and my Playstation in his hand and the guy end of the line had a big club with spikes in it. My first thought was "throat strike, I hit the one in the front, he's turned sidewise, no room to maneuver, easy hit, he won't get up, tangle the one behind, then…." But my next thought was, "Michael Jerome, (my nephew) is asleep on the couch, he doesn't need to see this". So I took a deep slow breath, and something strange started to happen. I said, "I'm sorry, what did you say?" And we started our conversation, and then that strange feeling got stronger, my voice got slower and deeper and a sense of heaviness settled over me. The pounding fear and anger moved off to my right and I started listening very hard. It felt like when the Holy Spirit starts to help when I am preaching. I started explaining everything I was doing, as I was doing it, in a slow soothing voice. They wanted money, I explained that I never had money, but I would check my pockets and found the 4 dollars I have if someone is hungry. I gave it to him, the boy in the back with the club left to trash my bedroom (and found my vacation money that I forgot about so I wouldn't spend it until I go to Denver in October). Then young man in front seemed to remember something, took my keyboard and broke it. I said, "What did you do that for?" The one in the back asked, "What about him, he have any money?" Kurt had been sitting completely still, out of the side of his bad eye he had seen the club as a 30-06 rifle. The one in the front grabbed Kurt's metal flashlight off the floor and said, "You better give it to me, I'm an evil man." (They got $100 from Kurt's wallet, I feel really bad about that) Kurt calmly asked for his license back so he could go to work tomorrow, but they weren't listening. I said, "No you're not evil, you're just doing something dumb right now. Evil burns the soul and your soul still has God in it." He looked at me very confused. I emptied my coin purse and held it out to the guy in front, "This is all I have on me." He said, "May I have it?" I dropped it into his hand and I knew something was beginning to happen. The boy in the back said, "Our families are hungry that's what were doin it for." I looked up, and said, "If you had come to my office, I give out more than this every week to people for food, I give $15 to $20 for food." He said, "Don't give me that, no one goin to help us." I said, "I do, I'm Rev. Michael Lee Burgess, pastor at the Olive Crest United Methodist Church." They didn't believe me. I was offended, and started looking for my collar tab. In my adult class for Vacation Bible School this year I showed movies of people of faith. One was about John Wesley. I said, "John Wesley, one of the founders of our church was once robbed at gun point, he told his robber, 'When you grow tired of this life, and tired you will, remember God forgives'" "You're doing something dumb right now, but when you decide you don't want to do things like this anymore, remember, God forgives." (I didn't get the quote exactly right, but close enough. And it was in hopes of getting that story told that I agreed to talk to the TV stations afterwards). I picked up my broken keyboard and took out my computer tools and started taking it apart to see if I could fix it. The young man watched me for a minute, "I did that so we wouldn't have any trouble." I had the case off it now and said, "Well it's a goner" and put down my screwdriver. The one with the club came back, "Where's the guns, we need some guns." I said, "I am United Methodist, we don't have guns or booze and not much money." "Don't give me that, we know preachers have guns" the one in the middle said. "Well they must have been (insert other denomination J) or something, but they weren't United Methodist." They seemed confused. They finally noticed my cell phone and the other phone next to the computer and took them (though they dropped a handset, which I picked up and used after they left, they really were not very good at this.J) Then the club carrier said, "Where's the keys, we need a van." They argued a bit, then one in front asked politely, "Where's your keys?" I said, "In the right side pocket of my black jacket, did you see it as you walked in?" They looked confused, so I waved them out before me into the hallway and looked in the living room, telling them that I was always losing it. I didn't see it, so I said, "Maybe it's in the car" and started to walk to the kitchen. The spokesman said, "If you have to go outside, that's all right." I turned on the living room light to see better and saw my nephew still sleeping on the couch, and turned it back off. I said, "I don't want to wake up Michael Jerome." He nodded and said, "We'll be quiet." My cat came out to see what was going on and I introduced him, "That's Tsunami-san." The leader turned to the others, "Leave the cat alone guys." And we went back into the library. (I am condensing or it would be many more pages long.) I sat back down next to Kurt while they argued with themselves if they really wanted to take a car. Then they asked me, "Are you going to call the cops?" I said, "Well after 5 minutes, I really have to, insurance you know." He nodded understanding. Then the 3rd guy noticed keys next to Kurt, "what are those?" Kurt said, "My Dad's pickup." So they took them, (I really feel bad about that, because they accidentally took our most valuable thing in the house, Kurt's prosthetic hand that was in a bag in the pickup.) As they were leaving, the leader turned back to me with a funny look on his face, "I hope you're not mad about this." I smiled at him and waved good bye, the seed had been planted, now if it will only bear fruit. But that is up to him and God. It is a bit hard to talk about this experience. The fear that went away during the break in came back afterwards, and the infection of the imagination that they had, of seeing other people as dangerous and oppressors tried to take hold of my heart. But God helped and sent people to help me fight off that infection and the fear. Looking back on it, I can see God getting me ready, providing the tools I needed for a long time. The counseling classes, the experience of the Spirit in worship so I would trust it when I felt it, the movie on John Wesley at VBS, and even having Michael Jerome around so I would not give into my violent first impulse. God saw four of his boys going the wrong way and about to destroy their lives and injure some of His other children. When they walked in, my impression was that they were like dogs who "fear bite." They get scared and then doing something violent. If you calm them down, they are no longer dangerous. When I made the choice to turn away from violence, God stepped in and wonderful things happened. They stopped being a mob and started noticing what they were doing. Instead of feeling vindicated by taking back what they deserved from those "rich people" who were oppressing them, they saw children of God, much like them, who they were treating badly. It was recognition and guilt that prompted the leader to say "I hope you're not mad about this." There can be no repentance, without first recognizing you have done something wrong, you have made a mistake. They came in self-righteous, they left confused, scared, and uncomfortable with what they had done. I wish they had found less money, that will make it harder for them to see this as the terrible mistake it was, but God gives people as many chances as possible to change their life's direction toward wholeness and joy. They got another chance, I hope they take it. Would you remember to pray this month for those men and all of God's children who are wandering into darkness that they might see the doors God opens for them to lead them back to light? And also for the people they injure in their pain so that they may not become victims also, but fight off the fear infection? When Channel Three nterviewed me their lead story that night was, "Four men who invaded an Omaha home got more than they bargained for, counseling from a local area pastor." Channel Three caught the vision and fear was healed. But when Channel Seven played the story, I was just a victim and the fear infection was spread farther. Thank you for being part of my family in God, and your prayers that kept me safe and helped me heal afterwards. Let us keep up the good work together. Your brother-in-Christ, Reverend Michael Lee Burgess Back to Top The Spitual Life Article Menu Home Page |
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