Fred is an aboriginee, age 53 or 57, an alcoholic, broken, homeless, and bitter. Throughout the night he would let us in on little clips of his life……little snippets of the source of his bitterness. He would also babble nonsense (or was it). Fred hates Christians…..he hates whites, and he blames Jesus for everything wrong. During the course of the evening Fred would ask us over and over for a cigarette or a light, despite us telling him over and over that we didn’t have one. He would get really angry at us, he would laugh with us, he would cry to us, and he would confess things….
The whole night wasn’t strictly about Fred, we did hang out with drunks, guys high on mushrooms (and perhaps more), a schizophrenic passing through on his way to Nimbin, Sarah ministered to a guy for 3 hours, and there was a man 
running naked down the street, drunk, at 3AM. So the colorful people didn’t let us down…….God allowed us to see people in there raw form (no pun intended).
Of course there was still Fred…….he would leave angry at us and yet would come back again and again. We talked to him a lot about redemption and not blaming every white person for the 
wrong done to his people. We agreed that it was wrong, we apologized on behalf of them, we offered love and patience.
At one point Fred asked us in awe: “Why am I so comfortable with you? Why are you so comfortable?” We just smiled and said that it was God, not us, God in us. Fred was cold too (did I mention we happened to pick a cold and rainy evening to stay in the park?), and I offered up my coat. I laid it on the table, but he didn’t take it. Eventually Austin would do the same later and Fred did take it.
Dawn finally glimmered on the horizon, while our tired group were fought fatigue under the bus stop. We sat in a circle and Fred told us to ask him questions….any questions. Here is some things we found out: no Christian had ever done him wrong, he had 3 wives (though they weren’t married….something about aboriginee culture), he had children, he was a hitman, he had shot a man, he doesn’t talk about his grandson, he was afraid “they” would come to get him, and more. We weren’t getting anywhere so I finally asked him: “Why are you so unhappy?” Then he broke, he sobbed, the anguish was released….
Apparently in 1997 his daughter asked him to watch her baby boy, but Fred didn’t want to. He knew he would drink……she had him do it anyway…..he drank. He beat his baby grandson bad. Fred did time for 3 years, his family has basically disowned him, and he is alone now. He showed us pictures of his grandchildren that his daughter sends him. His grandson is still alive, but you can tell there is permanent damage……
Fred believes that Jesus has forgiven him, so he says. He still drinks, he still curses God, he still is bitter. We may have made some headway with Fred that night, but ultimately it is God who will redeem him…..he just needs to accept it.
Staying up all night was a challenge. I believe God had us where he wanted us: vulnerable and fatigued. With eyes blurry from fatigue, we had to look at people through his eyes of grace; with a fuzzy mind, we had to rely on his words to come through our mouths. We were not on our A game, we were not able to think quick on our feet, we were not able to know who we would meet that night. With our weaknesses came God’s strengths. With the darkness came his light. With others brokeness came revelation about how great he really is. Seeds were planted, prayer was powerful, and we walked away humbled.
