On Getting Robbed
My neighbor recently put his barbecue in the back alley.
“What’s up with the barbecue?” I asked.
“We got a new one. You can have this one if you want.”
Fab.
It was absolutely filthy and didn’t have wheels, but I parked it in your back yard and waited for the weather to improve.
A few weeks later, our church small group was over for our weekly supper gathering and the sun came out.
I bought some charcoal, cleaned out the BBQ, and sparked a flame.
The barbecue was a bit rusty, a tad wonky, the lid doesn’t close right, and it’s lop-sided due to its lack of wheels.
But it worked. We grilled about a dozen pounds of meat — beef burgers, lamb kebabs, wieners, steaks, and a South African sausage that hissed like a spitting cobra when you poked it.
Nearly two dozen of us ate like kings while basking in the sunset.
It was my four-year-old’s first charcoal barbecue.
He said it was “the best day of my life.”
Our back yard isn’t fenced.
Just a half-wall beside the sidewalk.
We’ve gotten to know dozens of people over that half-wall. Sometimes we serve tea and scones. Sometimes we share desserts. Sometimes we leave out books and other items that quickly get scooped by people in need.
The whole world can see our back yard.
And the barbecue.
Our small group left around 10pm.
At 4:15am, a man in a hoodie between 40–60 trespassed into our back yard, picked up the wheelless barbecue, and penguin-waddled off.
Our neighbor’s CCTV captured the footage.
My wife went through the five stages of grief quite quickly.
Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance
My son woke me up and excitedly informed me of the theft.
Surprisingly for the whole family, I didn’t get angry.
Because I’ve been thinking a lot recently about two of the weirder principles of Christian economics:
In Luke 6:35, Jesus commands his followers to “lend, expecting nothing in return.”
When Jesus says nothing, he means nothing.
The ‘nothing’ here doesn’t just mean ‘no interest.’
It means no principal, either.
Check out the verse before, Luke 6:34 — “If you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to get back the same amount.”
Christians lend, expecting to never be repaid. To be robbed. If we lend to someone who refuses to repay even when they can afford to do so, that’s theft. That’s between them and God. Great riches accrue to our kingdom account for being robbed.
“Robbed?!” we might say. Yes, robbed. In Luke 6:30, Jesus commands his disciples, “Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods, do not demand them back.”
God’s ledger remains unchanged.
In fact, not seeking repayment when robbed adds to your heavenly account.
Psalm 37:21 says, “The wicked borrows but does not pay back, but the righteous is generous and gives.”
Hebrews 10:34 says, “You joyfully accepted the plundering of your possessions, since you knew that you yourselves had a better possession and an abiding one.”
Jesus himself puts this into practice by giving Judas Iscariot control of their company’s money purse, despite knowing he was a thief, perhaps as a way of inviting him to a life of integrity. Jesus takes the old law of only lending interest-free to fellow Jews, and fulfills the law’s intention by extending total grace, even to enemies.
Every time a Christian gives, lends, forgives a debt, or is robbed and doesn’t demand repayment, their eternal bank account grows richer. In this way, our lending truly reflects the character of our God. God has lent us everything, we have repaid nothing and can’t repay anything, yet He doesn’t hold it against us. God is not a debt collector, He’s a debt canceler. (Luke 7:41–43)
Christian economics is WILD, isn’t it? You can see how it absolutely repulses non-Christians and fake Christians. Christian economics is all about the character of Jesus. Christian lending is focused on mercy, not monetary gain.
Christians hold a lot of things in tension.
We love sinners (ourselves included) but hate sin (especially our own.)
We champion grace but also truth.
We don’t demand our stuff back from thieves, but we also seek justice.
Psalm 10:15 — “Break the arm of the wicked and evildoer; call his wickedness to account till you find none.”
Isaiah 1:17 — “Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.”
Jeremiah 22:3 — “Do what is just and right. Rescue from the hand of the oppressor the one who has been robbed. Do no wrong or violence to the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow, and do not shed innocent blood in this place.”
So my four-year-old and I launched an official investigation.
Not for vengeance, retribution, or punishment.
Not to get our barbecue back.
Just to make our neighborhood a place of justice and safety and generosity and friendship. After all, the barbecue belongs to God and anyone who needs it can use it anytime.
Our plan: Gather evidence, submit it to the cops, pray the state does their biblical job (Romans 13:4 — the state is “the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God’s wrath on the wrongdoer.”)
We went door-to-door with a pen and paper, checking CCTV cameras, laughing and commiserating with our countless neighbors who’d also been robbed.
It was fun. And memorable for my little boy — perhaps it will even be the earliest memory he retains in adulthood.
It was a wonderful chance to build relationships and tell them about Christianity’s most suppressed economic theology.
I may have even scored myself an honorary grandmother.
We’re hoping to have a robbery party and invite everyone we interviewed over for a meal.
Sadly, the trail eventually went cold.
The thief got away with it.
It’s a shame, because I was hoping to give him the wheels.
I also thought it would be fun to ask to borrow the barbecue next time we need it for a church small group supper. (He’d get an invite too, of course.)
I’m still not angry.
I’m mostly just sad for the thief.
What is going on in an adult male’s mind and heart and soul and spirit that makes him steal a non-necessity at four in the morning?
If he needed twenty bucks, he could’ve knocked on our door.
Heck, if he needed a barbecue, he could’ve just knocked on our door.
As for the Brock family, we’re back to being barbecueless after just one brilliant, memorable, delicious community feast.
That’s okay.
Job 1:21 comes to mind.
Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return.
The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away.
Blessed be the name of the Lord.
PS — We’re currently visiting Wales while a young family from France stays in our home for free. Next month, we’re staying in someone’s centuries-old home by the sea. All for free — no need to use Airbnb and rob locals of homes. Check out Home Exchange.