Last week I taught my evening class and left after almost everyone had left the church property. One last participant noticed someone walking around in the shadows, so I went over to check it out.
As I approached the figure in the shadow, he called out “Hi Randy”. I got closer, and recognized him. He was a young man I had talked with many times over the last few years–usually when he was drunk. The last time was last year and we had to call the police.
He was very apologetic. He said “I really want to talk with you, when I’m sober”. He seemed to mean it, and I told him I’d love to meet with him whenever he was ready. He promised me he’d contact me. He left. Then I left.
I was actually encouraged. Maybe this time I’ll actually get to talk with him. Maybe he’ll take advantage of the help offered. I thought “Maybe even tomorrow”.
Two days later he was found dead in a pond a 1/2 mile from the church building.
I was reminded of the harsh reality that tomorrow is a fiction. We all think we have plenty of time–and we think others will have that time also. But no tomorrow is promised to us. Tomorrow is a fiction. There is only today. Unless of course the Lord allows today to become tomorrow.
The problem is, we don’t know until, well, tomorrow.
And then there is the question of the callous. In the last 35 years as a minister, a police chaplain and a counselor, I have seen and experienced every sin and every result of sin I can think of. Like hands experiencing hard labor every day my emotions have felt raw, then firm, hardened–calloused. This isn’t all bad. If it hadn’t happened, I would not be able to function, and would not be able to help people who are hurting (how many of us want an ER doctor weeping at the pain he sees when he treats us?).
So when things like this happen, I am bothered, but I go on. I get over it. And usually fairly easily.
But not always.
This young man’s death is getting to me. Oh, I’ll be ok. My callouses aren’t all gone. But like the ones which build up on our hands they sometimes flake off, leaving us protected, but not entirely insensitive. Mine have kept me from being devastated, but allowed me to hurt.
Maybe that’s a good way to be.
I don’t want to stop hurting at the result of sin in the world.
I don’t want to not be outraged.
I don’t want to not hurt.
M. Johnson says
Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift, which is why we call it The Present.
I recently read a book about people sharing stories about near death experiences. One man coded on the operating table 3 times… and went to hell. All he could think was that he didn't belong there, he was a good person and didn't deserve to be there. When he was revived, the only thing he could tell the doctors was that he needed to be baptized, being a good person isn't enough.
I'm sorry Randy that you were not able to share w/ this man about Jesus and what he needed to hear. We always think we have more time, believers and non-believers alike, and its a wake-up call to all of us when we are faced w/ our own mortality. All we can do is step up our game, know Jesus and be faithful. Peace to you.
Marshall L says
Seems like the young man was almost ready to repent (turn around), but wasn't quite there yet. Also a natural progression from a life of sin to a life of salvation is hardly ever a straight line. There are hills and valleys (and an occasional detour). With alcoholism, we need to be able to couneract the disease before we can minister to the real person inside.
Joy Reyes says
And yet there is still Hope… that maybe, just maybe, this young man came to know the Way within that 48 hr period of time. Maybe just seeing you, Randy, and speaking to you momentarily was a piece of the puzzle bringing him to repentance… and directly to God. We may never know one way or the other while here on Earth – but there is still Hope that maybe, just maybe, this young man will be the first one to welcome you Home when your time comes. There's still Hope…