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It was the second Sunday of January when the old man walked
into the church building. At 74 Jon the
war veteran was homeless and without any family. He was also, according to the free clinic,
dying. Drugs were too much but he quickly made peace with death knowing he had
lived a long life.
It was his first time in a church in 33 years and fear was
already building up inside of him. He
had been told earlier in the week by a group of city missionaries that there
would be free food waiting for him after the service, and after a few days
without a meal even going to church was worth it.
He smelled of dead fish and rotting food. Mostly because he had slept in a Red Lobster
trash dumpster the night before in an attempt to escape the rain which had
begun pouring. For all the pain it
caused him, it was the best sleep he'd gotten in weeks.
He quickly situated himself in the back row where the other
patrons would walk by him and, if he had to, he could easily leave.
It was a nice church, a beautiful place in a richer side of
town than he had been to in a long time.
That members of this church were obviously better off and he could tell
that his mere presence upset them.
Everyone who walked in the door stuck up their nose at his smell and
even worse he saw a few talk to an usher, point at him and grow angry when the
usher refused to do anything.
He sighed softly to himself and began to get up. As he did a young couple with their
8-year-old son walked into the room.
Another rich couple they barely seemed to even notice their son who was
busy trying to explain how cool the color blue was. The moment the boy saw the man he stopped
moving forcing his parents to suddenly take notice.
"Why are you all alone?" He asked Jon loudly.
"I don't think anyone wants to sit with me." He
repeated as he looked at the door anxiously. He didn't want to be here anymore;
even free food wasn't worth this.
"What? That's crazy! You can sit with us!"
The boy's parents looked at each other, shocked at the boy's
statement and quickly chimed in with, "I'm sure he doesn't want to sit
with us Tommy."
The old man sighed to himself and said, "It's alright
son."
The boy looked angry and slammed his foot against the ground
which startled both the parents and Jon; it seemed this sort of outburst wasn't
normal for the boy.
"No!" He said, "I want you to sit with me!
Please sir! It would make me happy!"
The old man looked around quickly and then smiled at the
boy, "Alright, I'll come sit with you."
The child did a quick jump for joy and then took the man's
hand. Quickly leading him to the second
row where the four of them would be sitting.
They were the only four who sat on that row, and although the old man
noticed, his attention was continually pulled away from the world by this young
man.
"What's that?" The boy asked as he pointed at a
rusted medal hanging from Jon's jacket.
"It's a purple heart." He said, "It means
during the war I took a bullet, lucky for me I was able to get back at those
Kr...err Germans."
The boy smiled, "Can I hold it?"
Before Jon could answer everyone in the church suddenly
stood from their seats and the service started with a song.
The child, whom Jon was now captivated by, sang at the top
of his lungs to every song. And even
though he didn't know the words, Jon did his best to do the same. Every word came more easily than the
last.
At the end of the last song it came time to join hands, and
the boy quickly took his dirty hand during the prayer (to his parent's disgust)
and made sure Jon was holding tightly, "I don't want my prayer to miss
you!" he said as he squeezed Jon's hand.
Soon the message began but Jon didn't pay it much mind. Instead he just looked around himself as the
members around him made jokes about his attire.
Even the boy's parents moved a little further down from Jon as the
service went on, trying to get unassociated with him, but the boy would not
budge. He made it a point to stay right next to Jon and not move.
As the service came to a close the boy looked over at Jon
and said, "Sir, Jesus loves you more than I do. Please, I don't know if I'll ever get to see
you again. When I die, I'm going to
heaven, will I see you there? I don't want you to go to hell!"
The man's eyes widened and he scooted slightly away from the
boy, but before he could respond the church went back to prayer. And obediently the man's head bowed with the
rest of the church, his mind racing a million miles a second.
"Maybe some of you here have never heard the story of
Jesus." The pastor said softly.
"You've never made that connection with your creator. But tell me.
If you died today, if there was an accident right outside of this church
and the paramedics came and they shook their heads. Do you know that you would be going to
heaven? If you don't, then please I ask
that your raise your hand right now. We
aren't going to embarrass you; we just want to pray with you."
The man's heart shook and suddenly tears fell from his
eyes. His hand went straight up and he
heard the words, "I see that hand" immediately follow. He began to cry loudly, so much so that the
others around him began looking up to see what the noise was. They quickly said the prayer of salvation and
then dismissed the service. A few people
walked up to Jon in an attempt to pray for him more but he just looked over at
the boy.
"Did you raise you hand?" The boy asked
cheerfully, for Jon had seen him open his eyes a little when he had.
"Yes. Yes I did."
The boy gave him a hug, the first hug he had received in
years. The first touch from a human he
had gotten that wasn't a beating of some sort since his wife died. It was the most beautiful feeling he ever
had.
His eyes teared up once more and he slowly hugged the boy
back. His parents pulled the two apart
and said, "Sorry son, but we have to leave now."
Jon just looked at them and then smiled as the boy waved
goodbye.
"God," He said as the crowd around him dissipated
some. "Thank you for showing
yourself to me. Thank you for loving a
sinner like me" | 
