A friend forwarded this article from Brad Jursak along to me. I felt it was worth posting on our site. Happy reading:

You Are Who You Pretend to Be" by Brad Jersak
“Be careful who you pretend to be, because you are who you pretend to be.” (Kurt Vonnegut)

Recently, I spent an afternoon serving coffee and cake at Mission Possible, a drop-in centre for the homeless in East Vancouver. I took the enjoyable role of delivering goodies to the table where those with disabilities sat eagerly waiting. On handing what I regarded as an unspectacular angel-food square to one senior visitor, he threw his hands in the air and shouted joyfully to the heavens, “The Lord saves his best for his servants!” His face glowed with gratitude through bright eyes set in deeply wrinkled skin and framed in a beautiful white beard. I took this as an invitation.

Reverend Joe, as he introduced himself, tested my openness and interest with some insights into that odd Old Testament passage on Saul’s trip to consult the witch at Endor. He noted that such puzzles are best handled through a community hermeneutic rather than by lone experts... “Best to have a circle of the faithful discussing the Good Book,” he said. I suppose I passed the test because I was then treated to some highlights of the old sage’s story.

My first surprise is that Rev. Joe only pretends to be a “hobo” (and has for about thirty years!). After a season in a Roman Catholic seminary and serving five years as a federal constable, my new friend found himself stumbling into serious alcoholism and from there onto the streets of Vancouver. It was there that he bumped into two Pentecostal street-preachers who asked him if he was a believer. He replied, “Well, I belief in the death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus Christ and that he’s coming again to judge the living and the dead.” He believed the creeds. Pleased with this, they continued, “And do you believe that Jesus has forgiven you of all your sins—past, present and future?” This was news to Joe—very GOOD news. Such good news that it penetrated his heart and freed him from the bottle… instantly and permanently. Since that day, half a lifetime ago, Joe never again touched alcohol. Now seventy years old, he enjoys his sobriety and loves to share the Good News.

It wasn’t long before he was active again in the church, often teaching Bible lessons on Saturday afternoons. But this troubled him. He approached the pastor, proposing that his message would do more good in the AA meetings and out on the streets. As he attended 12-step meetings, the results spoke for themselves: Joe quickly saw seven of his acquaintances embrace Christian faith. When a new pastor came on staff, Joe persuaded him to ordain him as missionary to the streets of East Vancouver.
He told me, “I live as they do, eat as they eat, dress as they dress and sleep where they sleep. The Lord gives me food to eat through the local missions and has provided me with my own place to live. I don’t like to sleep in the shelters because of bedbugs, but I have my own little paradise beneath a nine-foot long park bench—extra long to keep my belongings! And it’s a miracle because the animals (the dogs, the mice, and so on) all leave me alone… except sometimes the rats. If I don’t trust God for my daily bread—if I try to hoard a little muffin or something for the next day—then the rats might come. It’s like manna, you see. I need to trust the Lord for fresh manna every day.”

He couldn’t stop talking about the Good Shepherd’s care: stacks of coins mysteriously left by his bench or the brother (a former bomb-squad pensioner) that gave him own cane on that very morning when Joe’s had been stolen in the night. He chuckled about how the local police occasionally stop him and have to call the local bishop to confirm that he’s really a missionary. “Sometimes they think I’m a hobo, you see.”

In my mind, I thought, “You ARE a hobo.” As Kurt Vonnegut says, “You are what you pretend to be.”
On the other hand, Joe DOES “pretend” to be a missionary to the streets. He’s allegedly a licensed and ordained minister, recognized by a local church and actively serving as pastor to the people in his community. He leads Bible discussions, encourages the brothers and sisters, shares the Gospel through his AA meetings, comforts the hurting and both shares and shows the love and mercy of God to anyone in his path. His face is aglow with joy and his words are punctuated with praise. If Rev. Joe is pretending to be a minister, he is a very good pretender… and after all, you are what you pretend to be.

All of this struck me as highly incarnational. So like Jesus. Fully God, fully man. Fully missionary, fully hobo. Slain Lamb, conquering Lion. Servant king. Homeless and in paradise. Jesus. Joe. When the King of Glory pitched his tent among us, he so fully identified with our humanity that he ate, dressed, spoke and bled like a man. No, not just “like” (as per Docetism). Actually a “son of man.” And maybe Joe’s non-condescending condescension into the life of an actual hobo was just radical enough to remind me of that. Once again, I have entered the joy of meeting the Lord in the “least of these” (cf. Matt. 25).
Parting questions: Who do I pretend to be? Have I moved from pretending to actually becoming? What am I becoming? Who am I becoming? How about you?