By Lynton Brocklehurst
“Why do you waste your time with these people? They will never change,” said a friend who is part of the group of successful, now retired, men I cycle with.
“These men are not welcome here. Why do you bring them into our neighbourhood? Get them out of here. I’ve had a few conversations with others, and they will follow up,” threatened a resident next door to the community cottage where we met. To avoid further unpleasantness, we relocated our weekly meeting to a new location.
The men they were talking about are the Settlers men, many of whom are ex-prisoners or ex-drug addicts. Some have compounded the damage of abuse they received in their childhood by their own poor decisions. Wounded men, several wearing Corrections GPS ankle bracelets that monitor their movements 24/7; men struggling to make sense of the life that remains.
I am often asked, why do I, and the Settlers’ team, “waste” our time with these men? My answer comes quickly—we enjoy being with them! They are our friends, our community. We love these men, and we love what God is doing in their lives.
Think of the people Jesus “wasted” his time with: Blind Bartimaeus. The demoniac. The woman at the well. The woman with a flow of blood. Little children. Bystanders, and even his own disciples, questioned the people Jesus gave himself to.
Jesus also “wasted” his time with successful people: the rich young ruler, Matthew, Zacchaeus, the centurion, and Nicodemus. People not unlike the successful biking buddies I ride with weekly. We, too, are poor and broken in ways less obvious.
These “wasted” friendships were what was so revolutionary about Jesus. He viewed people through an entirely different lens. Jesus did not judge people for the way they looked, their behaviour, lifestyle, or their social status. He looked deeply into their hearts. In each person Jesus saw a story, a struggle born out of deep longings to be who they really were – individuals created in the image of God, longing to love and be loved, and people who needed to know His Father. Jesus reached out to gather all who would come.
“Is anyone available to help L?” I asked, putting the question to our Settlers’ Bible study. L is a friend of the Settlers community. He is a person with tetraplegia, which was the result of a rugby injury. He needed someone to install his new rotary clothesline.
Two men responded without hesitation. One in his 80s, a 501 deportee from Australia who was wrongly imprisoned. The other an abuse victim and former drug addict in his 60s. What a ragtag threesome we are, I thought, as we dug the hole for the clothesline and poured the cement.
As we were driving away when the work was complete, one of the men said, “It feels so good to be useful.” And then he added, “Do you know what I want to hear, Lynton, when I go to heaven? I want to hear God say, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant.” Then, reflecting on how God had changed him, he said, “I am not a people pleaser. I am a people person.”
There are inklings of the glorious person my friend will be when everything about him is made new and whole. When “the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father.” (Matthew 13:43)
I can’t wait to see it.