Refusing hope

I met a man unlike any I’ve met before. I’ve known those who feel hopeless and afraid. I’ve met those who though they spoke with little hope, their eyes showed they were filled with it. Last night, I met James.

He was different. He was given up for adoption at age 5 by his parents. They didn’t want him. He was tossed out or ran away at age 12 and has been on the streets since. He’s 44 now. He says, there is no God.

“If there was a God, He sure doesn’t care a damn about me, never has.”

We asked him where he thought the food he was eating came from. He said these people who brought it. I told him God had provided it, but didn’t go into the details. He said, if we hadn’t brought that, he could have found food in the trash cans. When asked who arranged for the food to be there, it’s the people who throw so much away.

Later he told us that Jesus only hung on that cross for part of one day.  ”He only suffered one day. I suffer every day since I was 12 years old, living on these streets, I got nothin’. That Jesus, He only did it one day. I wish I was dead, I wouldn’t come back.”

See, he believed in the fact of Jesus. But he thinks there’s nothing else there for him to believe in.

I did not know how to answer him. He refused any act of kindness. He refused any offer of goods or acts of love.  He refused hope. Can’t say I blame him. All he’s known is hardship and abandonment. I don’t know if there are mental issues there or addictions. I only saw empty dark eyes and heard bitter resentment in his words.

I met a very sad and angry man last night. I will forever be changed. I pray he will be one day soon.

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