A New Chapter: Saying Goodbye To Motel Church

In April of 2004, the Lord spoke to me as I was standing on the balcony of a Motel in Santa Ana. He said, “If you want this place, I’ll give it to you.”

I said, “Yes,” a heartbeat later, not fully realizing what I was getting myself into.

What followed over the next 13 years was astounding, confounding and beautiful.

In the beginning the manager didn’t want us there, so we prayed that the Lord would move his heart or move him out of the way.

Two weeks later, the man’s heart changed and we were welcomed in.

At first we simply blessed the children and their parents. We brought a bounce house, and played games and put on puppet shows, never once advertising our church or even preaching a sermon. We simply loved them as much as we could.

Eventually, as we hoped, some of them began to ask us, “Why do you come out here every month and do this for us?”

Our answer was always, “Because Jesus loves you so much and He wants you to know that He sees you and He cares about you and your family.”

Eventually another church came and joined us, about 3 years later. Saddleback Church, [yes, THAT one], wanted to serve breakfast and share the Gospel on Sunday mornings. We helped them get in good with the manager and I volunteered to preach once a month in their rotation.

That relationship eventually gave birth to an actual Motel Church that started meeting in the back parking lot and followed a “read through the scriptures and talk about it together” style service where the people were encouraged to read the Bible for themselves, ask questions, offer suggestions and even challenge the teacher if they wanted to. [And sometimes they wanted to.]

Later, other local churches came along and helped shoulder the load of the weekly Motel Church.

Eventually, Saddleback bowed out and others came to take their place.

We saw people’s lives transformed, hearts changed and wounds healed. We also saw heartbreak and defeat and disappointment. But mixed in with all of this was the steadfast love of Christ and the ever-present power of His Kingdom held wide open for any and all who wanted to live in it and walk with Jesus.

People were baptized in the swimming pool. Some found a way out of the motel. Others found contentment to bloom where they were planted. Still others discovered a God who loved them more than they ever dared to hope or imagine and their lives were forever changed.

Above all, we were the most changed from the inside-out. I mean, I was the most changed. The Lord taught me things I would never have been able to learn from a book or a sermon.

I learned what true courage looks like. I learned what real love and family can be. I saw transformation take place in a moment, and I saw it take place over months and years.

My ideas about ministry were blown wide open. My ideas about church were radically altered. My understanding of God’s love and mercy were expanded and stretched forever out of shape and I was left with a new paradigm to grow into.

Of course, I could never have known any of this would happen as I said, “Yes” to the Lord’s invitation that afternoon on the balcony of the motel.

Today, I have made another leap of faith and responded to another invitation the Lord has given me to step aside and allow others to take this Motel Church ministry forward.

This is harder than you can imagine. I keep seeing all those faces and reliving all those stories. I wonder what the Lord will do next, both in my life and in the lives of our dear friends at the Motel.

This is the great unknown. Life, and faith, is marked by uncertainty. All we can do is cling to Jesus and follow Him every step of the way.

I’m leaving these people, and this ministry, in the best of hands. They understand that it isn’t my ministry, and it isn’t theirs either. They know that the Lord is doing a great work among them and they are thrilled and humbled to take part in it.

So, the Motel Church will continue. It will grow and change and thrive. The Lord will continue to reveal Himself in - and through - everyone who surrenders to His will in that place. Of this, I am certain and it gives me great comfort.

I am so grateful for this amazing experience. I will never forget any of it. 

Most of all, I will never forget these beautiful and amazing people. They taught me how to follow Jesus better. They taught me how to live and breathe outside my comfort zone. They helped me to see and to hear Jesus in ways I would have never imagined possible.

This chapter of my life is closing, but another one is being written at the very same time.

Change is hard, but it is part life.

Here we go…

-kg

WANT TO RE-VISIT SOME OF WHAT THE LORD DID THROUGH THE MOTEL CHURCH OVER THE LAST 13 YEARS? 

READ MORE:

My Friend Robert Higgins

Out Of Strength [Robert Higgins Testimony]

WHAT LOVE IS [The Amazing Life and Love of Robert Higgins]

Adventures in Motel Church

Miracle in the Carport

This Is The Motel Where We Serve

THE MAN IN ROOM 316

His name is Carol Palfi. He's from Romania. He can't speak English, except to say, "I love you. Every day."

Carol lives at Fountain Care Center in Orange, California, in room 316. He was Robert Higgin’s roommate, and for the last 9 months Carol was the voice of God reminding Robert of something very important; "I love you. Every day."

At Robert's Memorial Service yesterday I talked about how God's amazing love for Robert provided for a roommate like Carol.

God knew that Robert's desire was to know love. All his life he searched to fill the empty void in his heart. His favorite song was "I Want To Know What Love Is" by Foreigner. God saw Robert's heart and moved heaven and earth to declare His perfect love for Robert through a variety of people and events, including this Romanian roommate for Robert in room 316.

Yesterday, after the Memorial Service, Carol wandered into the dining room on his walker. He waved to everyone. He said, "I love you. Every day," to all of us, and smiled. I came up to him and gave him a hug and he gently laid his head on my shoulder.

I couldn't help but marvel at how God had worked through this simple man to declare his love for Robert. The most amazing thing to me is that Carol has no idea what a blessing he was to my friend. He doesn’t understand Robert's story, and he is oblivious to the gift he gave by simply repeating the phrase, "I love you. Every day."

One day I hope that all of us can stand together in Eternity and rejoice over this simple miracle.

Until then, I thank God for the man in room 316 who unconsciously spoke the words that God Himself wanted to speak to my friend, Robert. Day after day for 9 months.

-kg

What Love Is

Remembering my friend, Robert Higgins who died on Friday, September 10th, 2010 at 9am.

Robert Higgins was born in Winchester, Kentucky on February 3, 1932 to a poor family. His father died when he was young and for a brief time he and his older brother spent time in an orphanage because his mother wasn't able to provide for them.

One day he and his brother were adopted out to other families and when his mom found out she fought hard to bring them all back together again.

Eventually, Robert moved to California where he worked for the post office briefly and even drove moving trucks for a time.

He met a woman named Rosa and they had two daughters and one son, Richard.

By the time I met Robert, he was estranged from everyone in his family. He was homeless and staying off and on in a motel in Santa Ana.

The more I got to know Robert the more I learned about his struggle with faith. He was angry at God for how his life had turned out. He'd had a hard life and most things hadn't worked out for him the way he had hoped they would.

If there was a theme around Robert's life it was love. He told me once that it was hard for him to receive love from others because in his experience everyone always expected something in return for that love. There were always strings attached, so he learned to mistrust those who acted like they loved him.

Robert's favorite song was "I Want To Know What Love Is" by Foreigner. He only owned one CD when I met him, FOREIGNER'S GREATEST HITS. He never listened to anything else on that collection. Just track one, his favorite song, and then he'd eject the CD and put it back in the case.

The cry of Robert's heart was to know what love is, and he really did want someone to show him if it was real.

About a year ago Robert was diagnosed with bone cancer. He eventually ended up at Fountain Care center just a few blocks away from my house. I used to drop by and see him most days on my way home from work. During our visits he would talk about how so many people in his life used to show him special attention and favor. People at the homeless shelter, barristas at the coffee shops, managers at the motels he stayed at, managers at gas stations where he bought his cigarettes - all of them took special time with Robert and gave him preferential treatment.

"That's God showing you His love, Robert," I said to him. "It's as if God put a spotlight on you and prompted all those people to pick you out of the crowd and show love to you." Robert nodded his head in agreement.

When Robert was admitted to Fountain Care he was placed in room number 316 with a Romanian man who only knew a few phrases in English. The main thing he would say to everyone who entered the room was, "I love you, everyday."

A few weeks ago, before Robert passed away, I pointed this out to him. "Robert, do you know what room number you're in?"

"Room 316" he said.

"Yeah. Do you know why God put you in room 316? Because it reminds us of John 3:16 where Jesus says, 'For God so loved the world - that's you Robert - that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoesoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.'"

Robert nodded silently.

"God also gave you a room mate who can't speak English. All he can say, all day long, is 'I love you, everyday.' Isn't that awesome? God wanted you to be reminded, everyday, that you are loved," I said.

Two weeks ago, one of Robert's good friends at Fountain Care died suddenly. I spent some time that same night reading to Robert out of the book of Romans. I told him I needed to know that he would be with Jesus when it was his time to die.

Since I was always spending time with Robert, many of the people at Fountain Care assumed that I was his son. They would ask me how my Dad was doing, or they'd ask Robert about me assuming I was his son.

About a week ago, as our family was visiting Robert, one of his friends there brought this up and she told my wife that Robert had said that he loved me like a son, and that he wished that I was his son.

Last week, when Robert was near the end, I took his hand and I said, "Robert, God knew that your real son couldn't be here for you the way he wanted to. So, he sent me to be your son and to love you and comfort you in his place. But, God also sent you His real Son, Jesus, to give His life for you and to demonstrate His love for you."

Two days before Robert died, I stood next to his bed. We were surrounded by four other dear friends who had also loved and served Robert in the name of Jesus. We talked and laughed about our memories of being with Robert. We all agreed that we were Robert's family and that we loved him.

The day before Robert died, I sat beside him as he lay quiet. The morphine and the Atavan kept him sedated, but the nurses assured me that he could hear what I was saying. So, I took out his CD player and I played his favorite song. I took his hand and reminded him that God had already shown him what love is. That love had a name and that his name was Jesus.

After I sang a song to him and read Psalm 23, and Zephaniah 3:17 to him, I took his hand and I said,"Robert, will you pray with me?" and I lead him through a prayer of confession and faith in Christ. Of course, he wasn't responsive so I don't know if he really heard me or not.

I prayed that night, as I did most nights, for God to give me some kind of confirmation of Robert's salvation. Just one minute of lucid consciousness with him was all I wanted. Just to know that he had really made peace with God and accepted the love of Jesus. That was my prayer.

The next morning, on September 10th, at 9am Robert passed away in his sleep.

One of the women who had served Robert during all this time was Kathleen. When I called to let her know that Robert had passed away, she told me that she had been praying for Robert and wondering if he had really received the love of Jesus or not. "I felt like the Lord gave me a word about Robert," she said. "He reminded me that all of us who served him did it in the name of Jesus. At first, Robert resisted our love and God's love. Remember how he used to fight us and argue with us? But eventually Robert's heart softened and especially near the end he was very accepting of the love we showed him. He was thankful for it and he received that love of Jesus from us. So, in that way Robert did receive the love of Jesus and I believe he really did have that conversation with Jesus in his heart."

Through my tears I thanked Kathleen for this assurance. I needed it so much.

Robert Higgins, my dear friend, was a man who never knew what love was until some people he never met before began to demonstrate it to him. They all did this because Jesus first loved them and gave Himself to save them. Jesus changed their hearts and filled them with the patience needed to love a cranky, difficult man like Robert, who eventually softened under the endless barrage of God's mercy and grace and love.

Today, Robert Higgins knows what love is. He is looking deep into the face of love and he is full of joy and peace.

I'm so thankful to God that He allowed me to be one of those many, many people who He deputized to demonstrate His love to Robert Higgins. Through this journey with Robert, I also learned what love is and I will never forget this lesson, or this dear, sweet friend.

-kg

THE COMMON DENOMINATOR

On Saturday, as I was visiting my friend Robert Higgins I saw nurses running into another man’s room with oxygen tanks and equipment. The man’s name was Emery. I knew him because he was a friend of Robert’s. On my way past his door, I got to see Emery briefly as the EMTs wheeled his stretcher out of his room and towards the ambulance waiting in the parking lot. He raised his hand to wave to me as he passed me in the hallway. “Take it easy, Emery,” I said. “You’ll be in my prayers.”

On Monday, when I dropped by to visit Robert again on my way home from work I glanced into Emery’s room and saw two administrators packing up his things into a box. One of them caught my eye as I walked by and I asked about Emery. The two of them looked at one another first, unsure of what to say since I wasn’t a member of his family. Finally one of them said, “Emery won’t be coming back anymore.”

I couldn’t believe it. He was conscious just two days before. He looked at me and waved and responded to my voice. He wasn’t in pain. He wasn’t breathing through an oxygen mask. He looked like he always did. But, now he was gone forever.

When I walked into Robert’s room I knew that he had already heard the news. Emery had been a friend to him for several years. In fact, it was Emery who had encouraged him to stay at this same senior care center back in January of this year. He was one of Robert’s only real friends in this world.

Robert was eating his dinner when I walked into his room. “Did you hear about Emery?” Robert nodded mid bite. We talked about how long Emery had been there at the home – over 8 years – and how everyone loved him and missed him. “He was a good guy,” Robert said. And in his own way, he was a good guy. Emery was always sharing his cigarettes with everyone and he never asked for anything in return. He argued hard to defend his friends whenever he felt they weren’t being treated fairly. Emery also cussed like a sailor. Even though he knew me as “Robert’s pastor” he never held back the F-bombs whenever we talked, and he never apologized either. “This is me,” he seemed to say. “Love me or leave me, I’m not going to pretend to be anyone other than who I am.”

My visit with Robert was too brief. It was getting near my own dinner time and I had my oldest son, Dylan with me, so I prayed with Robert and we left for home.

During dinner our family small-talked about how our individual days at school and work had gone, but I couldn’t get Emery’s death out of my head. When we were finished eating I took my Bible and kissed my boys goodnight. After my wife prayed with me, I went back to see Robert.

When I walked in he was shocked to see me, but he quickly admitted through his tears that he was very glad I came back to visit him.

“I kept thinking about what happened today with Emery and I realized I needed to talk to you about some things that are very important,” I said.

After muting the television, I pulled his wheelchair close to his bedside and took a seat. “There are some things I’ve been wanting to say to you, Robert, but I’ve been waiting for the right time. You know that I care about you a lot, Robert. You know that I’ve never tried to force anything on you in the past, and I’m not going to do that now either. I just know that there are some things that I need to say to you while I still can, or I won’t be able to live with myself.”

So, I started in Romans 3 and I read to him the verses which explain that all have sinned and come short of the glory of God. I read in Romans 6 about how the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus our Lord. We talked about how none of us is good enough to earn life. Even Mother Teresa and Billy Graham won’t be in heaven because of anything they’ve done, but only if they’ve accepted this free gift from God. “None of us can ever do enough good things to erase the bad things we’ve done,” I said. “We all need the free gift of God which is life through Jesus.”

I finished by reading Romans 10:9-11, which says, “That if you confess with your mouth, "Jesus is Lord," and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you confess and are saved. As the Scripture says, "Anyone who trusts in him will never be put to shame."

I left my Bible open on the the tray table between us and said, “Robert, one day I’ll come into your room and you won’t be here anymore. One day you’ll be the one who dies here. You and I both know that’s true. I can only take care of you until that day comes, but after that I can’t go with you any further. I need to know that you’re in the arms of Jesus.”

Robert’s lower lip started to tremble. His eyes filled up with tears. “I do what I can to talk to God,” he said. “But I’ve never been very religious. I was raised to pray the Lord’s Prayer, and to pray every night before I go to sleep, ‘Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.”

I closed my Bible while Robert tried to compose himself. “Robert, you and I have talked before about this, remember? I’ve said before that I think sometimes we make things more complicated than they really are. Being a Christian isn’t about attending church or joining this meeting or that group. It’s simply about trusting Jesus and admitting that you can’t do life on your own. Admitting that we need his help, just like in that prayer.”

We talked a bit more about Emery and what a good friend he had been to Robert. We both shared memories of things he had done or said and we both agreed he would be very missed. As usual, Robert changed the subject and said, “Do you have some time to take me outside for a cigarette?”

I helped him into his wheelchair and pushed him outside. We sat in the cool dark of the night and talked a little more about the uncertainty of life. After he finished his cigarette I wheeled him back to his room. In the hallway on the way to his room he said, “I’m real glad you came back to see me tonight and to read those verses to me,” he said.

After I helped him into his bed and he laid back against the pillows, I took his hand and prayed with him. I prayed for Emery’s daughter and his family to be comforted. I prayed for Robert to be comforted, too, and I prayed that the Holy Spirit would open Robert’s heart to the scriptures we had read together. I reminded Robert, through my prayers, that God was near to him and that Jesus promised never to leave him or forsake him. I reminded him, as I always do, that he can just call out to Jesus anytime he needs to. Even when I’m not there and no one else is around.

“I love you, Robert,” I said before I waved goodbye.

On the way down the hallway I felt the weight of discouragement. My grand scheme to lead Robert to faith in Christ had failed.

As I walked past Emery’s now dark and silent room, one of the residents was rolling by on her wheelchair. She smiled as she saw me coming and held out her arms to me. She wanted to say something to me, so I slowed down and stood beside her. She lifted her arm and put it around my shoulder. She gently pulled my face near to hers and kissed me lightly on the cheek.

“God bless you,” I said. She smiled, and then she laughed softly. “God bless you, too!”

As I continued down the hallway and out towards my car I started to weep. Somehow I knew in my heart that this kiss was from the Lord to me. Somehow my time with Robert that night wasn’t empty or meaningless anymore. It was all part of God’s eternal plan.

What mattered most to Robert tonight? I wondered. Was it that I had come to preach to him, or was it mainly that I had remembered that he was alone and that I knew he was feeling sadness after the death of his friend? Maybe the very fact that I was willing to take an hour of my time and go back to encourage him was enough of a blessing in itself?

This morning when I woke up, I was still thinking about Emery’s death and what Robert and I had talked about the night before. Laying there in the silence, in those precious moments before my alarm went off, I started to think about all of the conversations that Jesus had with people in the New Testament about eternal life in the Kingdom. In every case Jesus gave an individualized, custom response to their question. Whether it was the woman at the well, the rich young ruler, Nicodemus the Pharisee, or the thief on the cross, the answers were all unique. But what was the same in every case was this: the person had come to Jesus and asked about what was required to enter the Kingdom of God or to receive eternal life. In every case, although the answers were different, the question and the need was the same.

Maybe what’s missing for Robert right now is a desire to know the answer to that question? In all of our conversations about Jesus or about life and death, he has yet to show any real curiosity or hunger to know the answers.

The time I’m spending with him as his friend and his servant has made an impact on his heart. I’ve seen him soften over the last year and I know that God is working through these simple acts of service. Trusting that God is in control and that He has Robert in his hands is probably the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. What scares me most is that Robert might die without me ever knowing for certain that he has placed his hope and his heart fully in Jesus as Lord and Savior.

Keep Robert in your prayers, please. Pray that God will do His work on Robert’s heart, please. And also pray for me that I will have the faith to be obedient to Jesus no matter what happens.

Thanks,
kg

OUT OF STRENGTH

Robert Higgins and I sat outside together today. He was in his wheelchair smoking a cigarette and I sat alone on a bench next to him.

There were four other men in wheel chairs all around us, puffing and coughing in unison. This was the smoking porch at Fountain Care where a handful of men made regular trips to "catch some fresh air" and swop stories of their youth. Cars whooshed by on the street just beyond the strip of bright green grass at random intervals. Talking was measured between the roar of the cars and the spasmodic fits of coughing.

We small talked, as usual, about the weather, about the Anaheim Angels, about what my family was planning to do this weekend. But in the back of my mind I knew that I wanted to talk to Robert about life and death. Over the last few days he hadn't been able to even sit up in bed, much less to stand up and get in his wheel chair to come outside. The cancer in his body was taking its toll and we both knew that it wouldn't be much longer now.

There was a small space of silence where Robert took a drag on his cigarette and a dozen cars flew by on the road nearby. I brushed at a fly which was zipping through the air.

"I sure don't know what you see in me, Keith," he said. "God must really love you a lot for you to show me so much love the way you have. I don't understand it."

I looked up at him and squinted as the smoke wafted into my eyes. What could I say to that?

"Well Robert," I said, "You're right. Jesus loved me and that's why I want to show you the same love. I want to serve and love the way Jesus would love and serve you."

He nodded but didn't respond. He took another drag on his cigarette.

A friend of his, Emery, was sitting near him in a wheelchair too. His motorized chair had broken down again, and so he needed someone to push him back into his room.

"Is it ok if I push Emery back to his room, Robert? I'll be right back," I said.

"Go ahead," Robert said.

After I got back Robert was all alone on the porch. "Ready to go?" I asked.

He stubbed out his cigarette. "Let's go."

I maneuvered his chair with one hand and held the large door open with my foot as I guided him back into the hospital. "You're getting pretty good at that," he said.

"I guess I am," I said as I rolled his chair down the hallway and back towards his room.

"You might have another friend in this place one day," he said. "At least you can say you've got a lot of experience with wheelchairs and things like that."

I wondered about that a little before I said, "You may be right, Robert. God might bring me another friend to take care of one day."

We got to his room and I helped him into his bed. He asked me if I could run to McDonalds and pick him up his usual - a Mini Meal with two apple pies. "Sure," I said. "I'll be right back."

Luckily the McDonalds was only a few blocks away. In less than ten minutes I was back in his room, laying out his double cheeseburger and squirting ketchup on his fries. "Here's your change," I said.

Robert sat up in bed and ate his food. After he was done I bagged up all the trash.

"I need to head home now, Robert," I said. "Can I pray with you before I go?"

"Ok," he said.

He lifted up his left hand to me, frail and skinny, and I knelt over and wrapped it between both of my hands.

"Robert," I said. "Everything I've ever done for you has been to show you that Jesus loves you."

Robert's eyes were closed but he squeezed my hand.

"Do you know that Jesus loves you, Robert?" I asked.

Robert nodded. "Yes," he said. "I do. I know that he does."

Then I prayed for Robert as I always do. I asked that Jesus would touch his heart and allow him to know how much he really loves him. I prayed that the Holy Spirit would open his eyes to see that every good thing that has ever been done to him was God shouting, "I love you, Robert."

When we were done I gave his hand a squeeze. He squeezed it back and didn't seem to want to let go.

"Is today Friday?" he asked.

"Yes, it's Friday," I said.

"I hate the weekends," Robert said. "There's never anything on TV."

"I know." But I knew that it wasn't just the TV he hated. He hated that none of his hospice nurses came to see him on weekends and that he had few visitors.

"I'll try to drop by and see you if I can," I said.

"Ok," Robert said. "Ok."

I turned to go and gave him one last wave before I left his room, number 316, and made my way to the parking lot.

As Robert nears the end, I am suddenly aware of every small detail. I wonder if every goodbye might be the last, and I wonder what I will do without this friend in my life.

He talks about all I've done for him, but I cannot even begin to talk about what Robert has done for me, and what God has done in me through my friendship with him.

As I drive home I talk to God about this work He's doing in me, and in Robert. "It's so hard," I say. "I don't want to be in this struggle with you, God. I don't want to know the pain of loving someone and letting them go," I say. "I just want to know that Robert is going to be saved and that he trusts you with his soul."

But I know that it doesn't work that way. I know that to get to the fruit you have to get down on your knees and dig in the dirt. You have to get thorns in your hands and stung by the pests and you have to work in the heat until you can barely stand it anymore. The fruit only comes after a long season of struggle, and my only fear now is that all that I have labored for is in vain. Or that I might not really ever know what the real fruit of this labor is at all.

I want the touchdown. I want Robert to cry out to Jesus for salvation with tears in his eyes and repeat this perfect prayer of repentance before he breathes his last breath. But he might not ever do that. He might never move any closer to God than he is right now.

Is this it? I don't know. I only know that I feel like I've done all that I can do in my own strength. I have nothing else to give. I'm out of ideas. I'm hopelessly at the mercy of God now. Just like Robert. We're both out of strength and at the mercy of God.

At least I can trust in His goodness. I know that God is faithful and true. I know that He loves to rescue His children. I know that when it seems hopeless and dark, He loves to reach down and save His people in the nick of time.

Please, Lord Jesus. Save my friend. Please save Robert Higgins.

Amen.

-kg

WORTHLESS?

Last week I had lunch with my friend, Robert Higgins. Every Friday he and I spend an hour together and share lunch in his room at Fountain Care.

Robert is 78 years old. He has bone cancer. He is on Hospice Care now.

When I first met him he was homeless. The manager of the motel in Santa Ana where we've been serving introduced me to Robert. When Pete, the manager, called me on my cell phone about a year and a half ago he asked if our house church could help Robert get into one of the rooms at the motel on a regular basis. Robert was sick and, at the time, it was winter and a cold rain had settled over Orange County. Pete told me, "Keith, if I send him back out in this weather I'm afraid he won't live through the night."

So, we helped Robert to get into the motel room. I visited him now and again to check up on him and make sure he was taken care of. This was before we knew about his bone cancer.

Over the last year or so I've learned a little about Robert's life growing up. I've listened to him share stories about his own mistakes with his children and his marriage. I've watched him share about his failures and his regrets with tears in his eyes.

One thing about Robert that seems to keep recurring is his low self esteem. He's always talking to me about how he's not worth anything and how no one in his life ever saw much good in him.

Last Friday, as we shared lunch together, Robert made me laugh out loud. He was talking to me about his time on the street and how his other homeless friends would chide him for not carrying a sign - "Homeless. Will work for food." Robert refused. "They told me I needed to swallow some of my pride," he said. "I said, naw, naw, as long as I'm able to work I'm not gonna stand on a street corner and beg for money."

Robert said there was one time in his life when he did consider carrying a sign. "When I was really depresed and suicidal," he said, "I did think about making a sign and carrying it around that said, 'Homeless. Worthless. Please shoot me.'"

I confess that when Robert said that to me I laughed out loud. Actually, we both laughed pretty hard about that, but I knew what he was telling me came from a place of real pain in his heart.

Slowly, over the last several months, I've been able to encourage Robert about his worth. I've reminded him that God has placed a large group of people around him who really love him and value him. "It's like God has put a spotlight on you, Robert. People just seem to pick you out of the crowd and give you special attention," I said. Robert's eyes filled with tears and he nodded. "You're right," he said. "About the last year, once I met you and Pete, it's like you said, people seem to pick me out of the crowd and show me special attention."

I waited until Robert composed himself and then I said, "That's God showing you that He loves you, Robert. He's put all these people in your life to let you know He sees you and He loves you. He hasn't forgotten you."

Still, I know that Robert hasn't fully let go of his feelings of worthlessness yet. He's beginning to accept that his life has value, but there are still years of verbal abuse and manipulation for his heart to overcome.

When I was young I used to collect comic books. I would read them with gloves on and seal them in plastic bags to preserve their value. One day my Dad said something to me that I'll never forget. We were talking about how one of the comics I owned was valued at $200. He smiled and said, "Son, that comic is only worth $200 if you can find some chump who's got the money and is willing to give it to you."

It's true. It doesn't matter what price tag someone puts on an item. The real value of that item is in what someone is willing to pay for it.

"For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your forefathers, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect." - 1 Peter 1:18-19

What price was Jesus willing to pay for you to be with Him? How much worth do you have to Him? According to His Word, you are worth suffering for, and bleeding for, and dieing for.

"You are not your own; you were bought at a price." - 1 Cor 6:19-20

In God's eyes, you are not worthless. You are not stupid. You are not a failure. You are precious beyond measure to the Creator of the Universe and He would rather die than be without you.

"How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!" - 1 John 3:1

-kg

UPDATE: ROBERT HIGGINS

Last night I spoke on the phone with his son, Richard. He was very nice on the phone although he did admit that there was some "major drama" between Robert and the rest of the family that is still hanging in the air. Because of this, Richard was not willing to give out his Mom's phone number, or the contact info for his 2 sisters - although he confessed he wasn't even sure where one of his sister's was now.

Richard shared with me that he felt like he had made peace with Robert over whatever it was that took place. He said he sometimes wondered about his Dad, and he did ask me a few questions about how Robert was doing. I only shared with him that Robert was in a wheelchair and that his arm was in a sling. Beyond that I didn't feel like it was time to share any more than this - at least not until the two of them have a chance to talk one-on-one.

Richard said he was ok with me sharing his phone number with Robert. He said he might try to come and see his Dad sometime, too. Although, I did not tell Richard that Robert was in an assisted living facility.

Tonight I plan to drop by and inform Robert that I’ve found his son and offer him the chance to talk to Richard again over the phone.

Please pray that God will use this to bring healing to Robert's family. My concern is that this might only bring up more painful and negative feelings for Robert. Obviously, there is a long way to go for God to bring reconciliation to this family. But, I've seen God work in situations like this in the past and I'll be praying that He can soften hearts and restore relationships in Robert's family.

Of course, a big step for Robert is still his own faith in Christ. He and I are having lunch together on Friday. Pray that he and I might have an opportunity to talk about the Lord and for me to have wisdom as I ask Robert some important questions about his faith.

God is doing a great work in Robert's heart these days. Yesterday when I went to visit him he asked me to tape up his birthday cards on the edge of his tray so that everyone could see them.

His Hospice care nurse, Mona, shared with me last week that when Robert told her about the birthday party he started to cry. She wanted me to know that Robert was very blessed by this simple gesture of affection. So, THANK YOU to everyone who participated in that.

The night of the birthday party, as we were leaving his room, Robert took my hand and with tears in his eyes he said to me, "No one has ever done anything like this for me before." It's astounding to me that someone could live for 78 years without experiencing such a simple act of love, but this seems to be Robert's story.

Robert's favorite song, on one of only 2 CD’s he owns, is Foreigner's "I Want To Know What Love Is". As I spend time listening to him talk about his life, I can understand why this is his favorite song. He really doesn't know what love is and he really does want someone to show him. I'm praying that one day, very soon, he will know who love is and embrace Jesus with all of his heart.

Thanks for keeping Robert in your prayers. I’ll provide updates as they come.

Peace,
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Happy Birthday: Robert Higgins (78)

On Wednesday evening we gathered at Fountain Care to celebrate the birthday of Robert Higgins. He's dying of bone cancer, alone, with no family around to comfort him.

His friends Stan (from Southwest Community Center), Kathy, Cindy, Jim, and my family were there, along with the man who owns the gas station on the corner near the motel where Robert used to live.

We are Robert's only "family" now.

Everyone brought either a candy bar or an apple pie for Robert since these are his favorite things to eat and he has no room for other gifts - or any use for them. He's already given away everything he owns in this world except for his wrist watch, his cigarette lighter, and a few clothes.

The man who owns the gas station (can't remember his name) brought Robert a carton of cigarettes (worth about $50). These day's Robert measures his life in terms of how many cigarettes he has left to get him through until the end.

Keep him in your prayers. Pray that we can find his son and daughters before he dies. Pray that we can get back in touch with his ex-wife so he can say goodbye to her. Pray, especially, that Robert will trust Jesus as His Lord and Savior. I'd really love to continue our friendship on the other side of this life.

-kg