His Name is Les…

First rainy day, complete with lightening storm!

At first look… single, drinks – often too much, normally has a live-in girl friend – for short periods of time, has a continues very witty sense of humor – although often “R” rated, and he was my neighbor. In fact if anyone in our neighborhood knew how to be a neighbor it was Les. As a “Christian” I don’t know that I thought very highly of Les. But when I needed to build a deck it was Les who coached, loaned tools, and taught me how to build runners for stairs. When I needed to learn how to tile a section in my basement, it was Les who was came over to help lay tile. It was Les who bought a Cotton Candy machine that occasionally was put out in the front yard and kids from blocks away showed up for an impromptu sidewalk celebration. When I blew a head gasket on my car and had no money, it was Les who said, “That is an easy job, let me do it.” Les did this for every neighbor, no matter who or what they thought of him.

It was during the handing of wrenches and screwdrivers as he performed his magic on my car that we talked theology. It was during this conversation that I learned Les had an incredible faith, that he understood grace, and that he understood what it meant to love one’s neighbor. It had been a long time sense Les entered into a church. But he seemed to understand better than anyone I knew what it meant to be a neighbor, how to live out the Good Samaritan story, how to love and not use words.

Les eventually sold his house, bought a house boat on the Mississippi, fixed it up and floated away from Minneapolis ending up somewhere in the Florida Keys. I think of Les often, wondering if I learned anything about being a real “Christian” from this odd prophet who preached without words.