Josh

I met Josh under a bridge in Knoxville last month. He walked up to the place where our students (The ConneXion) were grilling and serving plates of hamburgers with chips and a dessert. 

His left eye was red and the bruising was already beginning to show. He was shirtless, wearing denim shorts that were too large for his slender waist, cinched by a belt. He wore a cap which he removed when I first walked up to speak to him. When asked if he wanted a plate of food, his softly spoken reply was, "No, ma'am." 

I may never learn all the circumstances that have brought Josh to this place in his life, but I'd seen briefly the reason for the scratches and the bruises. He'd been involved in a wrestling, fist-flying fight mere moments before. He'd also been judged by a woman who thought she was so able to love anyone and had even proudly stated that she doesn't judge people. Now, I didn't speak my judgment, it was all inside me, but it was there nonetheless and I had to do something about it. 

While I have participated in door-to-door evangelistic visitation, I've never been comfortable with asking a person within a minute of meeting them if they have a relationship with Christ. When Josh refused the meal, I used my stock-in-trade reply, "Well, don't say we didn't try to feed you, now. It's here if you want it!"

There was something about those big brown eyes of his that held me there. A sadness beyond his 25 years. Eyes that have seen more than I have in my 49 years and I felt compelled to ask him a question that I rarely ask anyone I've just met. At this point, I didn't even know his name, yet I touched his arm and said, "Let me ask you a question. Has there ever been a time when you've accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?" 

Big brown eyes teared up as Josh told me, "Yes, ma'am. I have, once, a long time ago. My daddy has been a preacher a long time. I know I'm doin' wrong, but I know Him." Have you ever heard a more beautiful confession? "I know Him, but I'm messed up." 

Yeah, that's me, too young man, me too. 

Related posts:

1. Permission to Speak Freely