He sat there isolating himself from the rest of the group. Leaning against a pillar clearly not there by his own wishes. Dressed in all orange representing a Thai Football team, his face was weathered from the pain he experienced through his life. His eyes were red and glossy; every few seconds he would lift his closed fist to his face holding the small glue he was trying to conceal from everyone around him. As the Holy Spirit filled the atmosphere around him, he fought back the uncomfortability by chasing the illusion of feeling alive from the high. With each inhale his eyes widened and his cheek bones lifted but as the deep breath ended his face fell and the deep rooted sadness returned.
He sat there fidgeting unsure what to do with his hands. He had eyeliner on his bottom lid and his body was covered in tattoos from the neck down. There was a cross on his forearm and an American flag piece on his opposite bicep. When he turned his arms the two demons tattooed across his elbows exposed blood red eyes that briefly shifted the peace in the air. His ears at first glance were stretched from where gages once were but, at closer look were scarred and stitched from what could have been from a knife. He wore a white shirt, jeans, and a blue bandana around his neck. He was fighting hard against the distractions around him shifting back and forth on the floor while he flipped through the Bible trying to make sense of what was being shared with him.
He sat there as if he and the pastor were the only two in the room. Knees hugged into his chest, fully attentive as he slowly digested each word being spoken. He was an older gentleman and his body language revealed he was ready for freedom. He shifted every once in a while to straighten his white tank and gray shorts that barely covered his thighs. His face and ears revealed that he spent some time on the streets as his eyes and the cartilage in his ears healed swollen like most fighters do. His eyes were clear but wide from the Truth entering his spirit.
On Wednesday our team had the privilege to go to an addiction center in Khon Kean, Thailand. We had the opportunity to share some of our own stories, worship with, and just talk to the men at the center. The men I described above are just three of the twenty-five we interacted with. As I sat there observing each of these men I realized addiction is a physical representation of the fight between light and dark in the spiritual realm. The enemy feeds lies of unworthiness, anger, hate, and pain to hold the bondage of addiction close around the ankles of those who struggle. All while the gut feeling to say no, to just walk away, or scream stop to the walls that feel like they are closing in, is the Lord trying to hand the keys to unlock the chains. In a way these three men represent different stages of God’s lost people on their way to salvation: those living blindly in deception, those whose hearts are beginning to soften, and those ready to declare Jesus as their Savior. As I sat there absorbing my surroundings I could not help but smile at the beauty of who Jesus is. He doesn’t ask us to be perfect before we come to Him. He says comes to me as you are. It is in Him that we find redemption and strength. Only then do we have the ability to see how everything we walked through good, bad, or indifferent during different seasons of our life never go to waste; rather He will use it to bring glory to His Kingdom.
