Back in 2002, I helped plant a church in Simpsonville, SC.  Betsy and I were recently married and were choosing a place to live.  We chose to live in an apartment.  During our time there I met some very interesting people, and had a crazy experience I won’t soon forget.

We were on the bottom floor in a corner with neighbors above, beside, and behind.  My goal was to make relationships there and evangelize.  I figured it would speak for itself as the Kingdom would change a dangerous place into a community of love.  That vision was sorely tested.  The neighbor next to us was a soft-core porn photographer of high school girls.  He would try to show me his portfolio when we talked, no clue why parents brought their daughters to him.  I would steer our conversation to Jesus and to my neighbor’s trike, of which he was very proud.  Above us lived drug dealers and behind us chain smokers who would fill our apartment with the love.

One day the drug dealers were in an argument with the porn photographer and they both came to me to help them figure it out.  They all knew who I was and why I was there, plus I had long hair at the time which made me the apartment hippie preacher.  I remember talking about how we all were living together and had to have patience with each other, etc.  They kept a tenuous peace from then on, till the cops came.  Late one night the police surrounded the building we were in and raided the room above us.  It was pretty exciting till I looked at all the guns and noticed where I was standing.  I quickly ran back to the bedroom which was further down and out of the line of fire.  I woke Betsy up and we watched as the drug dealers were brought down and forced to the pavement, hands behind their heads.

I don’t know what happened to those guys, but for a moment they gave me an authoritative role in their life that I wouldn’t have had without Jesus.  It wasn’t the answer to prayer I was looking for but I still am believing seeds were planted, Mark 4:1-9.  Now whether they were fertile soil or not isn’t for me to say.  And though the parable doesn’t speak of soil having the ability to change its character, knowing as I do the story of Paul, Acts 9:1-19 and that of many other friends of mine, I know it does and can.