My mother once said to me, “You’d give away your last pair of shoes.” Her words were said with a mix of pride and disappointment; at least that’s what I heard. I was a fanatical Christian at the time back in the late 70’s and early 80’s, opening homes for transients and troubled youth and leading worship with others of equal passion and devotion.
Bethel House of God had had a big influence on me. It was not rebellious, but full of love for those who were down and out. It was not angry and judgmental like the religious right of today’s evangelical world. Bethel was a bible-believing group of long-haired hippie-like young people who gathered weekly in an old house in the poorest part of Jackson, Mississippi. We would sing for hours, jammed one hundred strong in the living room, dining room and up the staircase, only to sit for another hour and a half listening to Dan Helmintoller parse and expound on the scriptures.
Dan was as skinny as a fence post. His long hair would sway back and forth, punctuating the delivery of his loving words. Dan was passionate and he cared deeply for all of us. I remember once in a moment of passion he lost his front teeth. It was a funny moment. He popped his teeth back in and continued his words. I never felt an ounce of judgment from him or his wife, Betty. Even years later when I came out to them, they continued to love me the same. There was something human about Dan, a humility that drew us in. He was like us, imperfect but trying hard. There was an honesty and truth about his life that rang true. His words matched his life, his home, his poverty.
So, when my mother said, “You’d give away your last pair of shoes,” I knew what she was referring to. She was afraid I’d be like Dan, faithful but poor. I knew she was thinking, “Why can’t my son be a faithful Southern Baptist preacher with a beautiful family, a brick home, and a Cadillac in the driveway?” I can’t blame her. I know it must have been painful, her seeing her youngest child go down a road with a destiny of unending poverty.
