I remember the day I prayed that God would help me to love people who smelled bad. I hated the prayer even as I said it, knowing that if it were to be answered, it would require me to be around people who smell bad. Sigh.
The Lord upped the ante. This particular smelly man was loud. He wore a speedo at the beach, had bad breath, and rushed us any time we traveled. I could tell he was talking about “the Americans” too. I didn’t like him. He seemed rude and self-absorbed—unaware of others. I was careful not to get bitter, and tried to keep praying blessings over him. Still, I was annoyed.
On our last day of intercessory prayer, our contact brought in several Romanian brothers and sisters. Each team seemed to huddle around contacts, but this man was just standing there. I paused a moment, not overly excited to pray for this particular man. I wondered if my prayer would be effective if I was annoyed at who I was praying for. Nonetheless, the Lord pushed me forward. I stepped closer, put my hand on his shoulder, and asked him, “How can we pray for you?”
My friends started praying for him, and my heart was not yet moved. When it came time for me to pray, I sensed the Lord leading me to look into his eyes as I prayed. I did. I prayed that this man would be overcome with the love of God. That he would know the height and depth and length and width of God’s perfect love. I spoke a blessing of belovedness over him: that he would know that his deepest identity is as a son, deeply loved by God. As I prayed, my eyes changed. I began to have compassion for this man in front of me, and I desired that he would know God’s love. We said “Amen” and the man wiped his eyes that had begun to fill with tears.
I asked him what God had shown him as we prayed. In slow, broken English, he began telling me of his love for the Roma people. He spoke to me not of strangers, but of cherished friends. Elderly and children alike, this man’s heart was broken with love for these people. As he spoke, tears creeped into the folded wrinkles around his eyes. As we were praying for this man, his heart was breaking for his neighbors.
He continued talking. His breath smelled like horse poop. Every word that he spoke out was a moment where I had the choice—will I see the heart? Or will I back away? I stepped closer and locked my gaze. Finally, I saw this man. Not the old man with a loud harsh voice. Not the man who had been impatient and under-clothed. I saw a simple man, loved by God, whose heart was broken for the Roma people.
And finally, I loved the man who smelled bad.
For the LORD sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart. — 1 Samuel 16:7
