Nehemiah Part Five - Debt. It's about debt.

I began my attendance at Calvin College in August of 2001. It was, as I called it, the semester of hell. Aside from your usual adolescent frustration dealing with the major life transition of leaving home and starting college, a few airplanes hit some important buildings, Calvin experienced a bomb threat, my grandfather died, and I became physically sick from anxiety. I’m 6 ft. 2 in. tall and I dropped to 126 lbs. That’s barely enough weight to stretch over the height.

When I went home for winter break, I sat with my parents in our living room and finally told them about my struggles. My father heard all about papers and tests and girls and loneliness and stress. After I finished, he said, “There’s something I need to tell you. The company isn’t doing well.” He then went on to tell me how financial difficulties forced the board to remove him as their CEO.

I soon learned that Calvin didn’t necessarily require payment for the semester before classes began. Instead, they let you attend and then required payment at the end of the semester. My family didn’t want to deal with school loans. At the time, I thought, why would we? Dad had a good job and helped my older brothers through school. We had enough to pay for the first semester of school but there were no guarantees for the spring.

Mom and dad insisted that I return to finish the school year, assuring me that we would make it work. Something in me knew it wouldn’t last. I mean, my parents prayed about sending back to school and felt certain God wanted me to go, but I didn’t feel comfortable with the possibility of debt. When credit card applications came in the mail or representatives vied for my attention at booths on campus, I ignored them. No way, you’re not going to put me in debt when I only work a part-time job. But society demanded I get an education for a job that paid well enough to eventually cover my oncoming school debt.

At the end of the 2002 spring semester, I got a few notices from the school about the money I owed. It came to something like $13,000 for the semester. As a 19-year-old kid, the number gave me a stomachache. Dad held the school off until a man donated the money we needed to pay the remainder.

Again, I told my parents that I was willing to drop out and work, or maybe attend the Community College. They prayed about it and felt that I should go back to Calvin. Dad hadn’t yet found steady work and this time there was no angel donor. The bill came like death during exam week. I managed to live on campus and “work” for one of the professors during the January term. The housing department busted me for living on campus without any registered classes. Eventually, they showed me the door.

My grades hadn’t suffered. Nobody ever had to discipline me for bad behavior. I was a dorm leader and helped lead a Bible study. But schools get pissed when you don’t pay them. I spent the next few days packing my room and explaining to the other dorm leaders what had happened. As friends showed up on campus to help me move, the boys in my dorm said their goodbyes. One kid physically blocked the door. “You can’t leave,” he said. I laughed at the melodrama but the scene still stung.

About nine months later, I sat in my basement watching the 2003 World Series when my mother handed me the phone. A man asked if I was Isaiah. He then began an assault of verbal abuse asking me why I hadn’t paid Calvin for my last semester. Admittedly naïve, I tried explaining myself. The collector ridiculed me and piled on the shame. Mom, standing by, realized what was going on and ran upstairs to get dad. He took the phone and left the room.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “If I knew who was calling you, I would have given it to your father first.” At the time, I was booking a tour for my band and she assumed a venue had called to confirm a date.

A form of hate bloomed inside of me. Who was that guy? What crime had I committed? People ran into financial problems like this all the time. The Kallmans weren’t deadbeats. We’d find a way to pay eventually.

When I last talked to a collector in December of 2007, the late fees and “miscellaneous charges” had pushed $13,000 up past $18,000. By then, I had moved to Nashville and wanted to live responsibly. So of course, I tried to reason with another collector. I gave her the estimated figures of monthly income to monthly expenses, which were nearly the same number, and asked if we could agree on some sort of payment plan.

The woman came back after talking to a shadowy “supervisor” and offered three different options. I laughed aloud into the phone when she told me these options. “Even if I were to sell everything I have tomorrow, I couldn’t make lowest down payment.” I told her I could sacrifice here and there to give twenty dollars a month until I got a steady job and increase my payments with the promise that they would halt any further fees. She refused. I told her I’d get counsel before making a decision. In the back of my mind, I knew those charges and fees were piling up as I waited for the situation to turn.

At this time, I’m still waiting for it to turn. But what can I do? They’ve refused my offer to chip away at the debt because, according to people like Elizabeth Warren of Harvard Law, they will make more money in the end if I’m in debt to them forever.

Please understand me, I don’t want to shame my old college. I know that they want to run the school well and pay their staff. A few Isaiah Kallmans could make it hard for them to function financially. I get that. What hurt was the thought, “These people are a part of the church and they’re coming after me!” Something felt so wrong about this. Like, things shouldn’t work this way. And yet, this is business as usual everywhere.

The Outcry

There’s something else I want you to understand. I’m not poor. Sure, I live paycheck-to-paycheck and I only started intentionally saving money at the age of 26. That’s kind of dumb. But I’m not poor.

My friend Josh told me about conversations he would overhear at Skelletones. These punk kids would always talk about how poor they were. They would sew patches on their clothes with dental floss and talk about how they needed to be resourceful just to make ends meet. Of course, they never thought about how dental floss costs about as much as your typical sewing kit but with less thread.

Then, these kids would talk about getting drunk on forties and how they could score cheap drugs. A lot of these kids weren’t living on the street. Some of them had families or other people who would take care of them. None of them were starving. They chose this life. Josh was so upset by this he designed a T-shirt with a picture of a punk holding a forty and a caption reading “Broke Is the New Poor”.

I became friends with the drummer of a punk band in Nashville while they recorded an album at the old Make Your Own Records house. He recently told me about the struggles he had with old credit card mistakes. “I was young and dumb,” he said. “I got my card and thought, ‘Sweet! I’ll get a Macbook! Dad’s recliner is worn out. I’ll buy him a new one!’ I’m still dealing with that stuff.” This happened years ago, but it still haunts him. He and his wife have begun to cut down on their expenses in hopes they will slowly pay off a little more each month. It’s hard, but he wants to live righteously in his finances.

That’s why I’m telling you, I’m not poor. At this moment, I’m just living on little money. My situation is temporary. Things will get better. I also want to live righteously in my finances and I know God will continue to bless me.

Maybe I’m getting that right, but I also must take care not to condemn all the people who got themselves in over their heads. Maybe I don’t have as much school debt as, say, a law student, but I also don’t have a degree. And their job will eventually pay off the loans. I may not have credit card debt, but I also never built my credit. As a no-credit non-student, it could be far more difficult for me to get a car or home unless my situation changes.

I had to keep humility in mind the first few times I read Nehemiah 5:1-5.

“Now there was a great outcry of the people and of their wives against their Jewish brothers. For there were those who said, ‘We, our sons and our daughters are many; therefore let us get grain that we may eat and live.’ There were others who said, ‘We are mortgaging our fields, our vineyards and our houses that we might get grain because of the famine.’ Also there were those who said, ‘We have borrowed money for the king's tax on our fields and our vineyards. Now our flesh is like the flesh of our brothers, our children like their children. Yet behold, we are forcing our sons and our daughters to be slaves, and some of our daughters are forced into bondage already, and we are helpless because our fields and vineyards belong to others.’”

The outcry in verse 2 could at first sound like a socialistic demand. “Why do the rich Jews have more money while we’re starving? It’s not fair!” But this was not a tantrum. This outcry came from true desperation. Think of this, someone is so poor that they get a credit card with a 14% interest rate just to buy their basic groceries. Bread, milk, maybe some toilet paper. Real necessities.

People were even going into debt just to pay their taxes. During a time of famine. So now imagine using that same 14% credit card to pay a 12% State Tax. The immediate problem isn’t solved, just aggravated and postponed.

Others were mortgaging their homes and land. As a man who well knew scripture, Nehemiah would have been familiar with the laws in Leviticus. God had given the Jewish people rules regarding the sale of land. Leviticus 25 made it clear, the land did not belong to the people but to God. He wanted them to steward it well and handle their real estate in a way that set them apart and glorified Him.

If a person could not financially support himself, he could temporarily sell the land. Then it was the responsibility of a relative to buy back the land so it stayed in the family. In the event that no kinsman could do this, the buyer was obliged to sell the land back to its original owner only. If the seller could not pay off his debt within fifty years, God had appointed a “year of Jubilee” where all debts were canceled and properties returned. God took this so seriously that when the kings neglected the laws surrounding Jubilee at the time of Jeremiah, the prophet foretold of Jerusalem’s coming destruction and their inevitable exile.

Some experienced such financial hardship that they even sold their children as slaves to pay the high interest exacted by their fellow Jews. This went directly against Leviticus 25:39-41. “If a countryman of yours becomes so poor with regard to you that he sells himself to you, you shall not subject him to a slave’s service. He shall be with you as a hired man, as if he were a sojourner; he shall serve with you until the year of jubilee. He shall then go out from you, he and his sons with him, and shall go back to his family, that he may return to the property of his forefathers.” God meant for this to go against the norm of common business practices as a reminder of Israel’s freedom from slavery in Egypt. Not only as a reminder to themselves, but as a testimony to the rest of the world.

The Response

The point was not “We shouldn’t have rich people and poor people. Everyone should be equal.” God had ways for poor people to work and survive (Leviticus 19:9-10) and didn’t demand sacrifices beyond their means (Leviticus 14:21). These rules were put in place to make sure people used their wealth with compassion, acting honestly and righteously with what God had given them. Leviticus 19:15 made it clear to leaders like Nehemiah, “You shall do no injustice in judgment; you shall not be partial to the poor nor defer to the great, but you are to judge your neighbor fairly.”

Clearly, the wealthy Jews had acted unrighteously, ignoring God’s law and financially cannibalizing their own people for profit. Nehemiah realized the gravity of this injustice. I love Nehemiah’s emotional honesty in 5:6, “Then I was very angry when I had heard their outcry and these words.” It’s okay to get ticked at this sort of thing. I spent a summer studying debt, both personal and national, and I got downright pissed. Most people are in debt and creditors want it to stay that way.

Instead of acting out on his emotion, though, Nehemiah took time to consider the matter.

“I consulted with myself and contended with the nobles and the rulers and said to them, ‘You are exacting usury, each from his brother!’ Therefore, I held a great assembly against them. I said to them, ‘We according to our ability have redeemed our Jewish brothers who were sold to the nations; now would you even sell your brothers that they may be sold to us?’ Then they were silent and could not find a word to say. Again I said, ‘The thing which you are doing is not good; should you not walk in the fear of our God because of the reproach of the nations, our enemies? And likewise I, my brothers and my servants are lending them money and grain. Please, let us leave off this usury. Please, give back to them this very day their fields, their vineyards, their olive groves and their houses, also the hundredth part of the money and of the grain, the new wine and the oil that you are exacting from them.’” (Nehemiah 5:7-11)

A few things are very significant about Nehemiah’s response. First, and most notably, Nehemiah repents of his own sin. It would have been too easy for him, in his anger, to blame the rich for their sin. Having removed the plank from his eye, he could see clearly and address the speck in theirs.

This probably inspired the second point in his response. He bought back those sold into slavery. If he bore the same guilt, that would explain his desire to set an example of financial repentance. It does no good to say sorry without demonstrating a change of heart.

Third, Nehemiah presents an opportunity for the men assembled to follow his example. He pleads with them to cancel the debts and return the property. I believe he did this in part to address one of the three areas of brokenness in Jerusalem. The walls and gates weren’t the only parts of the city in disrepair. Hanani had first told Nehemiah all the way back in chapter 1 how the people were held in contempt. By not following the law of God, which they called their own, meant to set them apart, they invited the criticism they found so disheartening.

What follows absolutely amazed me when I realized its significance. When reading verse 8 of chapter 5, one could compare the people to those assembled on Mount Carmel in 1Kings 18 when Elijah challenges the people to choose between God and Baal. Would they choose God or the promise of wealth and prosperity? After Nehemiah’s appeal, the men promise to return the property without further payment or interest. They also want to repent financially. The priests come in as witnesses of this promise and stand as accountability.

In verse 13, Nehemiah makes the oath, “I also shook out the front of my garment and said, ‘Thus may God shake out every man from his house and from his possessions who does not fulfill this promise; even thus may he be shaken out and emptied.’ And all the assembly said, ‘Amen!’ And they praised the LORD. Then the people did according to this promise.”

This oath was serious business. Any man’s failure to keep his promise would result in the loss of all his wealth. Shaken empty. The very thing they tried to build through evil would crumble. And please note that their promise to cancel the debts was monumental. Consider a similar situation today. What if all the banks and credit card companies were to say, “We’ve bled the American people nearly dry. We’re going to forgive all the debts and start over.” As of 2008, that would mean $13.8 trillion dollars of household debt erased. But the casual reader could easily pass over the end of Nehemiah 5:13. The people actually fulfilled their promise.

The New Generosity

True repentance isn’t a simple “I’m sorry”. It requires a change of heart, a dedicated difference in thinking. Where Nehemiah once financially oppressed the poor along with the wealthy Jews, now he operates in a lifestyle of generosity and hospitality. Nehemiah 5:14-16 reads,

“Moreover, from the day that I was appointed to be their governor in the land of Judah, from the twentieth year to the thirty-second year of King Artaxerxes, for twelve years, neither I nor my kinsmen have eaten the governor's food allowance. But the former governors who were before me laid burdens on the people and took from them bread and wine besides forty shekels of silver; even their servants domineered the people. But I did not do so because of the fear of God. I also applied myself to the work on this wall; we did not buy any land, and all my servants were gathered there for the work.”

In these three verses, Nehemiah describes very countercultural attitudes and practices. First, he did not take advantage of the living expenses guaranteed to the Governor and his staff. They denied this benefit to relieve the people of tax burdens. Previous rulers had extorted the people to such poverty that even their servants were better off than the common free man.

Second, it seems the position of governor would have allowed Nehemiah a life of comfort and ease. Instead, he and his staff dedicated themselves to working alongside the people in their effort to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem. This was not merely delegated responsibility. He didn’t take on a series of program development and reform. He had a passion to restore the city and dedicated himself to its needs.

Verse 16 mentions a denial of real estate opportunities. On top of the ability to tax and extort the people, rulers could take advantage of the peoples’ desperation. They could buy land for very little money (say, as forgiveness for that month’s tribute) and later sell it for a high price after the restoration raised the property value. Again, as a man who knew the law, Nehemiah remembered God’s command to not move the boundary stones set by his forefathers (Deuteronomy 19:14).

The remaining passage in chapter 5 tells of a daily feast at Nehemiah’s table. Over 150 people every night came to his residence and ate one ox, six choice sheep, various foul, and several barrels of wine a night. Remember that this man refused the king’s food allowance. We can only assume then that Nehemiah paid for this generosity out of his own pocket for twelve years. Simple, straightforward math shows a staggering cost for this kind of hospitality. 4,380 oxen, 26,280 sheep and foul, and a new supply of wine for 150+ people ordered 438 times. That’s a lot of people for a long time. And not only important leaders. The text says other Judeans and foreign guests came and sat at Nehemiah’s table.

I think it was especially important for Nehemiah to invite foreign leaders to these nightly banquets. If the former practices of usury and extortion only added to the nations’ contempt of Jerusalem, the new lifestyle of generosity would silence the criticism. One more stone put in place for the restoration of the Jews as God’s chosen and special people.

Let this encourage you. Inviting people into your home for dinner or a party can seem like a simple thing but I want you to consider it as Nehemiah did. The new generosity allows people to see Christ at work in your home. This comes through how you freely give to your guests, as a visual example of how you interact with your family or roommates, and opens opportunities to speak into their lives with truth and wisdom.

People need to see the power of the living God at work in our lives. What with the stress of credit card bills and all.