The Journal of James Hartline

     These are the days when my joints and marrow cry out, for the afflictions of my body sometimes push me to that closer encounter with eternity and the inevitable accounting I must give to the Lord of all heaven and earth.  I press on into a future that has only one steadfast assurance: like all men who have gone before me, I will depart the land of the living and come before God to explain only myself and no other.  How shall I leave this earth?  Will it be in the wasting bed, a fragile phantom of my former self?  Or will I regain my strength and not realize how suddenly I changed from this present life to the next eternal one?  Really, it matters not so much how I leave. I just know I will.  I am keenly aware that danger awaits me at every turn, and should I die from disease, or martyrdom, or in full health, I still shall die.  The risen Jesus and my own death, these are the only two guarantees I know.

      I am a subdivided soul.  The Lord has granted me confident peace in the midst of our great cultural turmoil, and yet, my battle with AIDS, and persecution from corrupt enemies of the cross are ever churning out spirits of hate and dissension towards me in their dark hopes of quickening my departure from this great battle that God has called me to.  In the midst of this soiled cyclone of life, God will occasionally grant me rays of light, beams of goodness.  Like a bird that has fallen defenseless out of a tall tree, I recently hurt my shoulder, the effect of years of wear and tear, sin, and then repentant work for the Lord.  Like the fallen bird, I too had a broken wing.  I could not fly, and thus, if my enemies should come, I could not escape by flight.  I was bound to hide in the shadow and security of the Almighty.

      I have no real family.  They abandoned me when I was a young boy, thus I am a wandering, earthly orphan.  The church has always been my surrogate family.  My San Diego family, really is the men and women at Mission Valley Christian Fellowship.  I don't know how to drive a car.  I live alone.  I am at times needy.  When I found out that I had to have surgery to repair my shoulder, I did not have the luxury of having a wife or relatives to call on.  I simply picked up the telephone and called my church.  Leaving a plea for help on the message line of our men's ministry, I let them know I could really use some help getting home after the surgery.  Within minutes, an email came through with this simple message, "Robert Decker, reporting for duty, can any of the men in the Men of the Book Ministry please help out brother James Hartline with his surgery?"  Robert Decker, who now heads up security at our church, also helps coordinate our men's ministry called "Men of the Book."  Robert is no ordinary Christian.  He is Master Sgt. Robert Decker, having retired after faithfully serving in the United States Marines for 23 years.   

     As quick as a grasshopper can hop out of danger, my phone began ringing and my email account was receiving offers of help by brothers from the church.  The brothers of Mission Valley Christian Fellowship were indeed reporting for duty.  Many in our city may not realize this, but our church is a homeless church.  We have no building to call home.  With nearly 1,800 members, we are truly America's largest homeless church.  Our church has searched high and low for property. Every Sunday, the staff and volunteers must get up at 3am to load trucks and unload thousands of pounds of items necessary for setting up classrooms, the stage equipment and the bookstore which are a part of our four church services in the hotel we will be using that week.  Then, at the end of a grueling day, around 9pm at night, everything must be loaded up again.  Our church has been doing this for over two years, week after week.  Yet, when I was in need, when I needed to get to and from the hospital, I didn't get a "we're just too busy to help you" message.  I got a quick, "Major Sgt. Robert Decker reporting for duty, can any one help brother James" message.

      Despite having his own family and young son, Mike Farmer immediately called me and said he would like to help me anyway he could.  Mike has been with Mission Valley Christian Fellowship since the church began over eleven years ago.  He has seen the loss of the church's prized theater complex three years ago, the victim of a property developer's corporate greed.  Yet, Mike and his family have been faithful to stay with the vision of the church and its pastor, Leo Giovinetti.  On the morning of my surgery, Mike left his own family and warm house, to travel over twenty miles in the frigid 5am cold to pick me up and take me to the hospital.  Despite his own work responsibilites, he gave of his time and energy to stay with me until they carted me into the surgical suite for a two hour, serious operation to repair my shoulder.  Five hours later, it was faithful Mike Farmer that picked up my medication for me and drove me home.

     Mike Farmer was not the end of the help that Mission Valley Christian Fellowship provided for me in my time of trial.  I have had to fight the deadly AIDS virus for nearly nine years, as well as hepatitus, and skin cancer.  My immune system is overworked and thus, healing from surgery is much harder.  Once my church found out that I was having surgery, they went into war mode on my behalf, praying for my recovery and healing.  Usually, recovery from shoulder surgery takes months. Miraculously, within two days after the surgery, I could completely straighten my arm out, a true miracle.  Two weeks later, I have full use of my shoulder and arm with almost no pain.  My broken wing is healed.  And thanks to the brothers at Mission Valley Christian Fellowship, my coming flight to heaven will be alot easier.