Joe: "Nothing and no one is worth the hell I go through."

Just after parking my car this morning, I met Santiago “Joe” huddled under some small bushes at the corner of the parking lot, trying to stay warm on this bitterly cold day. I struck up a conversation with Joe and within a very few minutes I knew that this was a divine appointment.

Joe grew up in New Orleans in a very traditional Italian Catholic family. They went to mass every Sunday and celebrated all the holidays, so Joe always though of himself as a Christian, though he never had a personal encounter with Christ.

Just before he turned twenty years old, Joe went to war in Vietnam and there experienced things that would change his life forever. When he came home to New Orleans, the world was a different place than he had left. No, actually, Joe was a very different person who had left a few short years earlier. He no longer knew who he was or where he fit in his used-to-be world. He began treatments for PTSD and started self-medicating for his deeper hurts with alcohol and illicit drugs. In short order, his family lost patience with him, gave him a sum of money, and told him to leave, not come back, and never again ask them for anything.

When the money ran out, Joe found himself hungry and destitute. He went into a restaurant one day and asked for food. When they refused, he said, “Then, empty the cash register and give me all of it.” He was arrested, convicted, and spent the next years of his life in prison, more than twelve months of it in solitary confinement. When he was released from prison, Joe found that he had compounded his problems. Now, on top of his depression, his addictions, and his decimated self-image, he had a couple of felonies on his record. He spent the next ten years homeless and often pennyless.

Finally, earlier this year, Joe got himself a room. He couldn’t believe how good it felt to have a place of his own. He was “very thankful,” he said. He never took it for granted for a single minute. Then, about three weeks ago, his nightmare resumed as he got his eviction notice. He showed the paper to me stating that he had violated his rental agreement by having overnight guests. Joe said, “I remembered what it was like on the street, and I couldn’t say no to a couple of my homeless friends. I let them stay.”

Joe went to the VA Hospital where he was given twenty Ativan for his stress. He took them–all of them–along with eight beers. “I had had enough of this *** world. I was ready to leave.”

I said, “Joe, you have to find something or some one worth living for.”

He said, “There is nothing and there is no one worth the hell I go through.”

And I answered, “There is one, Joe, and you need to run as fast as you can to the arms of Jesus. He’s waiting for you.”

He started to cry. “This is twice this year I have cried. What the h*** is wrong with me?” He paused for a minute, then said, “I’m going to tell you something which, once I have told you, you might not want to talk to me anymore.” Then he told me of the abuse he had suffered at the hands of one who called himself a “Rev.” “I hated that SOB,” he said, as he told me of the way he and others had been exploited by this “man of the cloth.” Tragically, Joe couldn’t separate this man from the God he claimed to represent. His heart turned against the man, the church, and anything that reminded him of the things he had suffered.

“Joe, please understand that man was an imposter. He didn’t present the real Jesus to you. Just as there are frauds in every segment of society, there are false Christians who misrepresent everything that God is about.” I talked with Joe for the better part of an hour, urging to forget everything he thought he knew about God and simply believe the gospel–the good news as I shared it with him.

Joe allowed me to pray with him. I said, “You need a coat, Joe, it’s cold out here, and I think I have one to fit you.”

“You don’t have one big enough for me,” he said.

But I opened the trunk of my car and said, “Do you need a 2x or a 2x?” I had some excellent, brand new coats to choose from.

“God did send you to me!” Joe said.

I said, “Joe, you haven’t seen anything yet! Just love God and let him love you. He has been longing to show you how much he cares about you.”

Joe said, “Can I hug you?”

“Absolutely!” We’ll be talking soon. Joe promised he would see me Wednesday in the park and again on Christmas Day. I love this life.

Tracy: "When you're prosperous and successful, Jesus loves you . . . "

Tracy came from northern Illinois, the only child of her parents who divorced when she was very young. She was shuttled back and forth between her mother who remained in Illinois and her father who had moved to Minnesota. Tracy did well in school and was granted an academic scholarship to college. After graduation, she moved to Florida to begin teaching in a public school and pursue her Masters in elementary education.

After earning her Masters and chalking up fourteen years in a successful teaching career, Tracy’s life started coming unraveled. Either she never knew, couldn’t remember, or was ashamed to say what actually happened, but her teaching career came to an abrupt end when she not only lost her job, but also her teaching certificate. Tracy did the only thing she knew to do. Since her father had passed away, she went home to her mother. She told me that her mother was incensed that she had failed, and told her that she was not welcome in her home. Feeling rejected and alone, Tracy turned in desperation to anything that could give her a measure of relief from the pain she was experiencing. "I’m broken and ruined," she said, "my life is an absolute wreck. If something doesn’t happen soon to help me turn my life around, I’m not going to survive." It was very obvious from the desperation in her eyes and the stress in her voice that she believed every word she was saying.

It was then that I said to Tracy, "God can help you. Your life has not gotten so out of whack that God cannot take it in His strong loving hands and put it back together."

Tracy then cast her eyes aside in a look of cynicism and said, "God’s not going to do anything for me." She went on to tell me of her experience with "church." Her mother had been banned from communion and shunned by the congregation when she and Tracy’s father had divorced. Although she and her mother attended church from time to time after that, it was always a painful experience. As far as she was concerned, the rejection she felt from the church and religious people meant God has rejected her too. "Let me tell you how it is," Tracy continued, "When you’re successful and prosperous, Jesus loves you. But when you’re down and out, he’s nowhere to be found."

By this time, Tracy’s eyes were glistening with tears. I said, "No, Tracy! That’s not the Bible Jesus. That’s the religious Jesus–the fake Jesus that has been invented by religious people. The Jesus of the Bible is close to broken people. That’s the reason he came to earth–it was for people who have screwed up their lives so badly they think there’s no hope for them. There is nothing you could have done, no mistake you could have made, no sin you could have committed that would lessen his love for you. He will take you exactly as you are, forgive you, cleanse you, restore you, and give you the life you have always wanted–the life you were created to live."

She cried, "All I want is to go home. I want my mother to hug me and tell me she loves me. I want us to go to church and be accepted. I want to be connected with the people I love."

And I said, "I want this for you, Tracy, but you can pin your hopes on what Mom might do or what the church might do. You have to put your trust in God alone. He is the only one who cannot fail you."

She continued to say, "But if my mom would just . . . if the church would just . . . if the family would just . . . " Tracy is where so many homeless, hopeless, hapless people are: looking and waiting for someone to care about them and help lift them out of their pit of despair. We must do what we can to come to their aid, but we must never fail to point them to Christ. At the end of the day, He is the only one who can turn their lives around.

Pray for Tracy and the thousands of other Tracys out there who are lost and lonely. And pray for us as we seek to be God’s loving hand extended to them.