Our breath swirled in circles around our faces. The night
was a muffled calm; the streetlights cast a foggy yellow glow on the snow covered
pavement. Owen stuck a gospel tract out to a middle-aged man limping past us.
The man’s stained and worn lumberjack coat was buttoned almost to his neck. “Did
you get one of these tonight, sir?”
The man
stopped and fingered the tract as he scanned its’ contents, “Oh yes. I’m a
Christian, you know, a born-again, Bible believing one. All that. You guys are
from that church on Wonderland right?”
We all nodded.
Owen shifted his weight from foot to foot to try to stay warm. Right. Left.
Right. Left.
The man
squinted down at the tract again and then handed it back to Owen. “Yeah,” he
paused to look down the street at the giant red brick churches towering side by
side, “I don’t really think it’s necessary to do what you’re doing.”
“Why’s
that?” one of us asked.
The man
shook his head. “It’s not my thing to tell people about Jesus. I went to a
United Church for years and it was all ninety year old ladies.” He laughed and
gestured to the two churches on the other side of the street. “There’s a church
on every corner. If people want God, they can just go to church.”
I held my jaw together, afraid it would drop right open. “You
would be surprised,” I tried to keep my voice steady, “at how many people, especially people my age,
have no idea what the gospel even is.” I thought about the blonde-haired girl with
hipster glasses who thought you get to heaven with some type of universal
energy, the short boy who thought that the Ten Commandments include “thou shalt
not drink coffee”, and the girl with the sweet, quivering smile who said eternity
freaks her out.
The man
looked evenly at each of us and shrugged, “I have enough of my own problems to
deal with. I can’t worry about anybody else.”
My chest was ice cold, like someone just knocked the wind
out of me. He said what I have thought too many times.
I’m glad
that God is not like us, but “he
is patient with [us], not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to
repentance” (2 Peter 3:9).
I go home and try to warm up white
toes and whisper: Help me want to want to
share the gospel.