Chip

Chip.


He came to The Gathering for the first time last winter. It was cold and wet that night, and I remember him walking in - young, thin, dark eyes and wrapped in a damp black hoodie. I walked over to introduce myself as he was getting coffee and a cookie.


I'll never forget the look in his eyes when I held his cold hand and told him I was glad to meet him. It was a startled look, wary, almost mad and I sensed that I had invaded his space, offered a greeting that he didn't necessarily want and hadn't asked for. So I backed off.


He sat in the back of the room in a chair by himself with his arms crossed and his head down - the hood never coming off. Just silent and alone. But he kept coming back oddly enough - distant, sad and sometimes just plain angry. Chip was trouble - I could sense it and I was afraid of him.


Then one night the floodgates opened up. When Greg asked if anyone had something to share, he raised his hand and told us about the darkness that surrounded him. That his thoughts were so chaotic and sad that he didn't know what to do. He told us that his mother had burned to death in a house fire and that he couldn't understand how God could allow that. He said he wanted to be a "good person" but the darkness around him wouldn't let it happen.


Another night he got into an argument with Rick, an older homeless man. They went outside and Chip screamed profanities at him, knocked a plate of food from his hand, threatened to kill him. I yelled that I was going to call the police. Eventually, Rick stalked away, and Chip ran away. I've never seen anyone angrier than Chip that night. It probably lasted a couple of minutes, but it seemed like forever.


But he kept coming back. Two weeks ago Chip plopped down beside me as we were starting up at The Gathering. He slumped in the chair, said hi and handed me a piece of paper. I looked down and it was the program for his mother's funeral. There was a picture of her smiling, one of her mowing the lawn, her obituary and finally a poem - The Serenity Prayer. I was pretty touched that he shared it with me, and then during share time he asked me to read it to the group. Later, as, I was standing around talking to a friend, he circled us, put his head on my shoulder and said thank you. Then off he went. That's the last time I saw him.

About a week ago he assaulted 3 off duty police officers. They were out jogging at midnight, he thought they were some people he had gotten into an argument with earlier and confronted them. They tried to tell him who they were, showed their ID, and he shouted he didn't care and pulled a knife. They subdued him and he's in jail now.

Sad, sad, sad. Don't know what to do sad. I guess he'll spend the rest of his life in jail. I need to write to him, go see him, but I don't know what to say. I think I have to try.

I'm not making excuses for him - he assaulted police officers. Plain and simple. Did the demon do it? Did his mental state contribute to it? Is he schizophrenic, psychotic, bi-polar, depressed, all of the above? What pushes a person to such behavior?

Lord Jesus may your peace descend on Chip.