“I’m very sorry, Dan… we won’t be able to sell your book.”
Those words hit hard. I had poured my heart and soul into my work, hoping it would be something meaningful not only to me but to others. But here I was, with a pastor who hadn’t even read my book, turning it away.
"Why not? You haven’t even read it. Other pastors put me to work with my talents. Why not you?" I asked. I was offering something I truly believed in, something that could help others. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Help one another, especially in times of need?
"So you’re not gonna take me up on my offer for the books?" I continued. "This is capitalism, Pastor. I’m doing what I can to survive. I’m poor and hungry, and I believe Christ would help."
But it wasn’t just about the book I gave him. There was more – the Alison Jolly trilogy. A series I’d worked hard on, and I knew it was something he’d like. Heck, it even has the Bible in it. What could be more fitting for a man of the cloth?
“I’m serious, Pastor,” I pleaded. “I’m hungry, and I have no food. I would not lie to you. That would be a sin.”
I was starving. Literally starving. I’d lost 40 pounds in the last couple of months. I wasn’t exaggerating. And yet, here I was, in a place where even the gangsters around me steal my food. How had it come to this?
“I can send you the links again for you to review,” I said. “A modest investment may be worth your time.”
Next week, food stamps would come in, but next week might as well be a lifetime away when you’re this hungry. For years, I poured myself into writing that book, detailing my relationship with the girl called Allison. Those were the best years of my life—when I was deep in prayer and reading the Bible daily. That spiritual devotion paid off, Pastor. I could feel it.
But now? I was wayward, drifting, and here was this man, this pastor, standing between me and the help I needed.
“I don’t generally challenge your authority,” I admitted, “but overlooking these books may be a grave mistake. We can sell them and raise money for other poor people like me. I think Christ would agree.”
And I do believe that. Christ favored the poor. He didn’t just speak for them—He lifted them up, gave them hope, and took action. Or is that just a myth?
“I’m sorry, Pastor, but all I have to offer you are my talents. And to God, my soul.”
There’s that famous line from the Bible: “Don’t throw your pearls before swine.” Jesus Christ himself said that. Was I the swine? Or was this system we’re living in—the one that turns a blind eye to the poor—just as guilty as the Pharisees who were obsessed with gold and politics?
I realize I was being harsh, and I’m sorry for that. It’s just so hurtful when you feel like your gifts, your talents, are being ignored. Especially when those gifts are all you have left.
Then, out of nowhere, came the saving grace: Pastor Jerry from The Rock. He made sure I received some food. His representative, Ron, came through. They’re even looking into shelters and job options for me.
It’s amazing what a little prayer and a verse can do. Even the gangsters in my neighborhood are excited for me. We’ve called a truce. All of us—hardened by life’s struggles, softened by the possibility of hope—are seeing that even in the darkest times, the light of compassion can shine through.
It’s been a blessed day. And to think, it all started with a simple message to my penpal pastor.
God bless Pastor Jerry and Ron. Sometimes, help comes when you least expect it, and from the most unexpected places.
by Dan and Bonkers
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