SAM'S SURVIVAL SECRET

My friend Sam* calls the church at least once a week to update either me or Alice on what's been happening in his life and to ask what next Sunday's sermon topic will be.

I met Sam about twelve years ago when I performed his mother's funeral, and he's kept contact since then. He's a very intelligent and creative person who has never seemed to find the right fit for his gifts and as a result has not had much of a work record. After his mother's death, he just lived on in the small, old family house built by his father before he was born.

Unfortunately, the world has rapidly changed around that old house. What used to be a pastoral area on the outskirts of the city is now a bustling commercial sector. The property where the old house sits has become valuable to nearby expanding businesses. But Sam is determined to stay, in spite of the deteriorating condition of the house. This has led to a long, frustrating battle with city authorities, who see the code violations as an opportunity to convert the property to a greater tax-producing business use. For over a decade he has been in a running legal battle with them. He has outlasted two or three generations of city bureaucrats, all whom have underestimated his will, his cleverness, and his resiliency.

About four months ago, police officers knocked on his door, serving papers for his removal. They asked him to step outside, then boarded up his front door and all the windows, declaring the house uninhabitable. They offered Sam motel vouchers to assure him of shelter during his transition to a new living arrangement. He has refused to use them. It's a matter of principle with him.

Instead, Sam has developed a little outdoor nest, right next to the back entrance of his house. To this day, he lives there, sleeping on a lawn chair under blankets supplied by neighbors, eating from a store of food in an ice chest, using the rest room at a nearby market. Fortunately, he still has a telephone hookup, by which he keeps contact with the outside world, including our church and seven or eight lawyers he is attempting to use to turn the tables on the city (all of whom are very reluctant to become involved). Repeated visits from police, social workers and various city departments have been unsuccessful in changing Sam's determination to win this David/Goliath conflict.

Oh, I forgot to tell you that Sam is in his early seventies and is legally blind.

The other day, when Sam called me, he sounded quite chipper. I commented on that, and I asked if anything had changed to improve his situation. He said: "No, everything's the same. But it beats being in a whale's belly!"

"IT BEATS BEING IN A WHALE'S BELLY!" That's destined to become part of my philosophy of life from now on. Got a gripe? Things aren't going my way? People giving me a hard time? IT BEATS BEING IN A WHALE'S BELLY! As God faithfully reminds me (and I'm sure he will), I intend to say that to myself every time I feel like complaining about my lot in life.

I'll think of my friend Sam waking up to another drab day in his 4 by 4 living space, and he'll inspire me: "IT BEATS BEING IN A WHALE'S BELLY!"

Jonah didn't want to go to Nineveh to bring the Lord's prophetic message, but he found out the hard way that IT BEATS BEING IN A WHALE'S BELLY! Later, when he sat under a bush for shade from the scorching heat and God caused the bush to wither and die, he would be able to think back and affirm once again, IT BEATS BEING IN A WHALE'S BELLY!

Do you feel like complaining?