LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT
For quite a while now I wanted to confess to you that I was a thief. A thief of all sorts of things. It was in the still divided Berlin, where junkies littered the subway stations and old east-west conflict had made the town stale as old bread. Well, it was more exciting then the village and boarding school where I grew up. And so felt many others.
In Berlin I found myself among a lot of men avoiding military service as the town was still officially occupied by the Americans, the French, the English and the Russians. The attitude in those days was anarchy or to simply boycott the system, who ever that was. Everything in power was actually bad.
There was hardly anyone among my peers who did not shoplift. I was always a bit jealeous of those who had the cheek to walk in disguised as delivery guys and walk out a shopping centre with a big TV or fridge. I was just an average shoplifter that punished "the system" every day by taking form the "big companies". I also stole from small book shops, but that was because I loved books that I could not afford and that certainly, I assured myself, maybe never would have been sold.
A thief and liar quickly finds excuses for what he does. I felt like Robin Hood sticking cheese, ham and cigarettes in the hidden pockets of my wide coat, even though I was the only poor around I fed.
I even stole from my employers later, where it was consent to resell movie tickets to fund at least our supper and if not more. I was so common a practice among all who worked in the movie theatres that one of the projectionists stuck out like a sore thumb because he refused to participate in our dishonesty. Our employers were, by the way, just people like us: former art students, rebels. They were approachable, caring, yet we simply thought: they big, we small = licence to steal.
It all comes back now in more and more detail as layers of deception are peeled by walking in faith. It is a tough and rough side effect of becoming a believer in Christ. We see more and more how crooked the world is and how crooked we were and are. More than we ever thought. Scary but also rewarding. The bigger our lostness becomes the sweeter our salvation.
I used to laugh when someone mentioned the word "sin", thinking of it as a very old-fashioned way of intimidating from the pulpit. And if you ask around, that is what the world thinks: Sin is way too harsh a word. We are just humans, we fail, we succeed, as long as we do more good than bad, we are alright, you know. In this way our brokeness is celebrated as (tragic and comic) grandeur.
So many years ago, and yet, in the past year I realised how much I had been into stealing and lying. And the lying took longer to overcome. My wife used to drive me mad calling me a liar. In my eyes I was mostly diplomatic. But how right she was.
I know how to lie, not only to others but also to myself. That is what lying is about. Self-deception. A good liar convinces himself that the world is actually better off with his lie than without. Same with the thief. The notorious thief believes he is just redistributing wealth that was unevenly handed out anyway. As if by crooking a crooked world it becomes straight.
My lying came to my mind again when I went, like very Wednesday, with the boys from the hostel to walk, talk and pray. We bought some apples on the way and I handed them out once they were standing in a row. I had learned my lesson- 15 cookies for 12 boys and you are always four short. Someone has not only taken two but three.
This time one of them sneaked behind the others to get a second apple. I asked him if he now had two and he replied without hesitation, "No". We all could clearly see TWO apples in his pockets, so I sent him home. I was cross.
When we returned he came to me and explained that it had been a joke. We have to pray, I said, and we sat down. And as we sat down more of the boys that had run to get a warm shower came back and listened as I told them how I used to lie and that I even used to believe my own lies. They were all ears because this was the truth.
The boy who took two apples was the best example. On a camp I once put my pillow on a bed, the next minute he was fighting over it with another boy, each one claiming that this very pillow was his and had always been his. I never know when they fight who's is who's but this time I knew. They were like the seagulls in 'Finding Nemo': "Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!" and I had to tell them three times that it was MINE. Surprised, they let go. It had only taken them seconds to really believe it was theirs.
It was a good prayer we had after we understood lying much better. We prayed that God would help us to see the truth and to not let us be tempted. I needed that too. Not too long ago I used to say, "I'll be home in 20 minutes", knowing it would take me at least 40 minutes. The make-believe is so ingrained in me I fully understand why Jesus HAS to give us new hearts and lives. We are just beyond repair.
The curious thing was that I was always surprised when Elke was mad at me. Well, I wish I had been 20 minutes, or at least it felt like it. As the weather report also comes with feels-like-temperatures.
I was also surprised when they finally caught me shoplifting. I even told the police that I only stole the gin and the ham and the cigarettes because I was so hungry, and because I believed it myself, they really felt with me. Poor young man, able to work but so hungry he had to nick a drink and some smokes.
This morning before church I saw that the lock at our garage was missing. When I came closer I saw it had been knocked off with a hammer and that my wetsuit was missing. I couldn't believe my eyes. Everything else was in place, but my wetsuit ... noooooo! On the way back home I saw how pefect the waves were in Voelklip, smooth and steady as the early summer brought the first sweet surf days with clear water and curly lips. I felt the sting. Which moron, I thought, was now hiding my wetsuit under his laundry to sell it to some poachers?
At the police I met me neighbour who reported his bicycle as stolen. And as it turned out they had retreived one of my clothing bags I hadn't missed. But no wetsuit. I was told the thieves had thrown their lot in the nearby dam when they had been chased by the police.
When I went to the dam at sunset an old lady told me that there might have been a second bag that sunk and couldn't be retrieved. The lady remembered me from women's days when I helped organise a meeting for the Stanford women. Next thing, I fetched our rowing boat, hammered a nail into a stick, bent it and went in the dam to fish out what was deep down.
Beautiful cattlebirds sat next to me while I poked the muddy ground. It became dark quickly as I first thought to have found a treasure chest and then a body. It felt like it but nothing but rotten plants surfaced. I prayed, Father, it's so easy to point out to me where the other bag is, Just tell me! I went to different spots where I was sure God had led me, well, I beleived to be sure till I returned and just sat at home, not even angry anymore. As a believer you just take the bad things of the world as they are, I thought. And you don't ask too many questions.
When it was dark, Elke came and said that there are two dodgy looking men waiting at the door for me. They indeed looked dodgy. Our front light was broken as well. When I stepped outside, two others came from behind a tree it and for a moment I regretted that I had left the dogs inside.
The two other guys turned out to be the mothers of the two thieves who had returned to give me back my wetsuit. I couldn't believe my eyes. There it was, safe and ... dry. The boys were young men, strong looking and almost as tall as I. Their mothers were only half their size but clearly in control.
I asked them. It had not been their first burglary. And both had been to prison. Now they were sorry. They didn't even know what to do with my wetsuit! They just did what every young bored man seems to do in Stanford: steal from other people's yards. It is a lifetstyle.
I had no idea what to say and just asked their names and, Why did you do it? They did not really know. Young men, thick as whaleskin, and I exactly knew how it felt.
"I was a thief myself", I said instead of being angry. "For years I used to shoplift because I was bored. And I always thought I was right. That stealing was right."
The young men now looked much less sheepish, one even nodded. "And then I was caught. And I knew I had to stop before it got out of control. God stopped me. He warned me and even though I was far away from believing at that time I knew it was my last chance. I felt it. And so it is for you", I said to them.
"Stop now and here, because God has a way greater purpose for you. He made you good, with lots of good potential." I told them about the Jesus with eyes like blazing fire, riding on a white horse, with a robe red of blood and a mighty sword to slay his enemies.
It turned out their moms had taken them to church to get to know Jesus, yet this Jesus seemed new to them. I told them that God intendend them to be great warriors in his name and that they had to take up the calling.
It was dark and our outer light was still broken, but I sensed some hope and surprise. They left thanking me and trodded back home with their mothers following them. When I came inside I told everyone, and Elke and the kids just smiled. My sister called from Germany, and when I told her, she said I made her day and that she is going to tell all her friends. What a story!
What a story. While I was praying on the lake to find a stupid bag He already had prepared these boys to receive a seed of hope, a seed that would grow and claim them from the dull and broken world right into His amazing kingdom. And he chose me to plant it. Me the liar and thief. What a glorious day.
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