Member-only story
“We have nowhere to live, and I don’t know what to do. Can you help us?”
The phone rang in the church office, and I answered. “Lowell Christian Church; Pastor Bob Young speaking.”
The man on the other end of the line faltered and spoke, slowly getting his message across.
“Hi, Pastor Bob, my name is Dave. Uh, we’ve never come to your church and you don’t know us, uh, but I’ve got kind of a problem and, uh, I don’t know where else to turn.”
In 1983, Lowell, Oregon had a population of just over six hundred. There were only three churches in town: one Seventh Day Adventist, one Assembly of God, and the church where I ministered. Catholics had to drive to the big city of Dexter (population, two thousand) about six minutes away, on the other side of the Dexter Reservoir. I don’t know how people decided which church to call for help — maybe some sense of religious affiliation, or maybe they just started with the first listing in the Lowell phone book and worked their way down. It didn’t really matter to me why he called my number. I wanted to make a difference in the community, and when God presented me with a challenge, it was my job to find a way to minister to peoples’ needs as his representative.
I asked a few questions and got some details. Dave, his wife, and their two children were living with Dave’s brother. Dave had been fired — unfairly, he assured me — from his job a few months ago, and hadn’t been able to find other work. With no income…