Sunday Tidbit: From Rags to Riches
As a child, our family lived in an old, abandoned school owned by the Town. We used the kerosene stove to heat our two-story house. We got water from a well across the road. Each day, I lowered a bucket on a rope, dropped it into the deep well, filled it, and carried it back to the house. In winter, Mom would place hot bricks under our blankets near our feet. Dad was an alcoholic who brewed his own beer behind the stove. Except at the school cafeteria, we mostly ate sardines and crackers or canned ham. Worn-out clothes were our usual attire.
Fast-forward: after my tour in Vietnam, I lived on an Indian reservation in Friant, California. I lived in an old one-room shack, and my meals were fried potatoes. Life was pretty good, riding my motorcycle with my Indian friend. Because of my behavior, the reservation asked me to leave. As a traumatized veteran, I had undergone drastic changes in personality and moral values. What was normal for me horrified others. I was a rogue warrior with no compass.
I ended up wandering the streets of Modesto, California. I slept at night on the side of the road in a field. I once found an old shack, but another homeless man was already in it. Because he was more of a wreck than I was, I stayed only one night. I once slept in a shed that turned out to belong to a pastor, who kicked me out. I walked the streets asking for change to buy food. While roaming the back alleys behind stores, I once found a lemon-frosted cake still in its box. I can still remember how it tasted. For Thanksgiving, I once found a loaf of bread. When you are living in survival mode, it never occurs to you how dire your life really is.
Still homeless, I attended Modesto Junior College, located in Modesto, Calif. With my Veteran benefits authorized for education, I learned to fly airplanes at the local airport. One night in a bar, I met a girl who invited me to her home for dinner. I moved in. Now I had a place to bathe, wear underwear for the first time in years, and eat three meals a day; it seemed right to me, so I married her. As I learned much later, a decision made in the interest of survival is not the wisest means to marry someone.
Eventually, I became a flight instructor. One day, the Lord spoke to me in an audible voice, “Go to Maine.” I did so for a few months, then returned to California and resumed my flying career. A few years later, I worked for a company that offered a generous salary, health benefits, and stock options. At age 27, I also received Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. With a new heart, I was filled with the Holy Spirit and the Father’s love. I had found a treasure more valuable than gold and silver: an intimate relationship with the living God.
A few years later, once I was financially stable, I bought land in the foothills of San Andreas, Calif. There, I built a beautiful, two-story, prow-shaped A-frame. It was the first home I ever had, a place I could call home. I rode my two horses in the Rocky Mountains, rode a motorcycle, and bought a truck for the “ranch” and a new car for my wife. Although I loved the Lord, I became distracted, not by poverty or difficulties, but by prosperity. I had replaced my walk of faith and trust in the Lord with the security, comfort, and a sense of well-being that came with prosperity. As I got busy living life, my relationship with Jesus Christ became secondary. I slowly left my first love for the ease and comfort that prosperity offers.
You may be wondering what about God’s call to “Go to Maine?” God had His way. It wasn't an easy transition for me, but it was necessary. I found myself spiritually dry; the fellowship I once knew had faded into obscurity because of complacency. My hunger for Jesus drew me back into His arms. Here, in the fellowship of His presence, I began to live the more abundant life Jesus promised. Leaving a well-paying job to serve the Lord in full-time ministry became a turning point in my life, but it also brought opposition from my wife.
The house I built went into foreclosure; the stocks I had acquired were redistributed; and the motorcycle and my two horses were sold without my knowledge. At least I had my job, I thought. It wasn’t long, however, before the company I worked for let me go. Ironically, now homeless, without a job, and saddled with 75 thousand dollars in debt, I felt free. Free to trust the Lord and live by faith again. It was a joyful time for me, full of expectation.
Driving my truck and pulling an Airstream trailer, I arrived in Maine in 1977. Soon, the Lord launched me into full-time ministry. Over time, like Job in the Old Testament, I found the Lord restored more than I had before. The Lord is not against wealth; true prosperity comes from placing our security and trust in the Lord Jesus Christ. When we prioritize spiritual treasures and a close relationship with Jesus above earthly wealth and possessions, we have the true riches that are ours in Christ Jesus (Ephesians 1:3).
You can be poor and yet still be rich in God.
In His heart with love – Roy Roden
CEO Eastgate Ministries
