This past week we went out to do worship in the streets. I’m a horrible singer, but I love singing. So I stayed to the outskirts as not to mess up the musical beat. And that was how I met him.
Within the first half hour I talked to a man, and I got to share what we were doing and why. Our talk was so good that after I was done I felt the purpose of worship was done and we could go home.
Boy, was I wrong. After talking with many others, I saw this other man (let’s call him Mike) walking around. I could see he was suffering, so I shouted “hi” across many people. As he sees me talking to him he decides to come over.
Mike spoke english but didn’t understand what I was saying. It was almost like an instant wall had been put there. I studied Italian for six months but I’m not very conversational. However I wasn’t about to let that get in my way.
As I tried my best pull out my Italian, mixed with a lot of Spanish, he was captured with a thousand questions about my beliefs, what I was doing, and my denomination. After he ran out of questions, it was my turn. And so it began.
Turns out Mike was a Christian. I say “Was” because he turned his back to Christ when his son (at my age) drowned, and his wife, not being able to bear the burden, soon “followed their son” (his words).
He no longer can bear living full time in Italy. He misses his country, but when he’s there, his grief is too much. Now he lives half year at home that doesn’t feel like home and the other half walking the streets of other countries.
Mike’s been walking that same street for 4 months, and soon he heads somewhere else.
One thing he believes with all his heart:
I’ll be happy when I have a family again.
That was when a bit of my sassiness came out.
I shared how I was happy and all I need to be happy is God; all I need is Jesus. I don’t have a man, and I don’t have children and I’m happy.
Mike’s response to that, along everything else I said was:
I don’t believe in God. I’ve never seen him. I don’t believe him to be real.
With a smile on my face and and tears in my eyes, I told him that my smile he so loved and commented about non stop for the past 10 minutes is God’s. That it’s different and special (like he had said). It wasn’t because of me, it was because it belonged to God.
It was then he gave me the first smile of the conversation. He then thanked me and walked away.
It’s small moments like those that make this trip so worth while. Of course there are weekends I get to do crazy adventures and see different places. But weeks like this one, where I share my love
