Last week, I was sitting outside at one of my favorite coffee shops preparing for my Thursday night Bible study.
Per usual, up walks Stuart with his scraggly beard and worn out cane. He grabs a seat near me, pulls out whatever it is that he smokes, and stares at me.
“Hey Stuart! How ya doin today?”
“Oh, I’m alright…I’m alright…
…You got any money for food?”
“I have an apple and an orange right here. Want that?”
“Mm..apple.”
I give him my apple. He takes it and doesn’t eat it.
“Remember me?”
“Yeah…yeah…you the preacher, right?”
I smile. “Close enough.”
This exact scenario plays out once every week or two…same place…same conversation starters.
I guess he calls me the Preacher because, though he can never remember my actual name, he remembers that I’m usually reading my Bible, and we usually talk through whatever I’m studying that day.
I desperately want to know Stuart’s story…his childhood, his thoughts and fears, his family history, the pieces of the puzzle that came together to place him right here, right now.
I usually do some digging and ask, and on a lucky day he’ll give me little glimpses.
He grew up on a farm…spent a lot of days loading hay…dad was a cowboy. He has a few family members around; parents are gone. Hates the food at the mission down the street. He lost his daughter. He’s bound up by drugs, alcohol and the ladies. His own words.
“I’m just a bum.”, he says often.
Because I want to know him, and because his mind is usually off in some other dimension, when I see him I like to recap what he’s already told me in order to remind him that we’re friends and that he’s already let me in a little bit, before asking more questions.
On this day, after giving me a few more little nuggets, he sat quietly for a minute. I could tell he didn’t really want to divulge much more, so I sat quietly too.
“I used to read the Bible some…Yeah…used to have one in my pocket. Not really anymore though…” He trailed off, and after a short pause started up again.
“…So, do you ever come down here at night and talk to people or do you just read your Bible?”
🙂 Drop the mic.
I laughed. “Great question, Stuart.”
It got me thinking…
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To be quite honest, right now my life is packed full of Bible studies, small groups, one-on-one discipleship meetings, worship-leading, prayer meetings, church, conferences…and the list goes on.
All good things, all good things.
But when I think about the rhythm of Jesus’ life…the One I’m to “walk as” while on this earth…my own schedule comes up quite lacking…surely incomplete.
Did Jesus spend time teaching His disciples? Sure.
Alone with the Father in prayer? Of course.
Growing in wisdom? Absolutely.
Addressing the assembly of believers? Yes.
But what about the rest? Where was He? Who was He with?
Emmanuel, God With Us…
He was in the streets.
At the well.
By the shore.
In the villages.
In the homes of tax collectors and “sinners”…
With the lame, the sick, the deaf, the blind.
The bound, the hungry, the naked and dirty.
The desperate, the poor, the weak and the thirsty.
The prostitutes, the outcasts, the orphans and drunkards.
The thieves, the murderers, the widows and adulterers.
So…
Hm…
Looks like my super-holy Christian girl schedule needs a little tweaking.
Where more time is actually spent with the sick who need a Healer.
With the lost who need a Savior.
With the oppressed who need a Deliverer.
With the poor who need a Provider.
With the orphans who need a Father…
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Anyway, thanks Stuart, for doing your own digging and asking that day.
Your one question has been worth far more than all mine combined.
