From Rich Dixon

Last week’s challenge: “If an old, bald, crippled guy can do this ride, what can you do?”

A tough-looking mid-twenties man pulled up a chair.

“I’m going to get out of this,” he drawled, “but I’m not sure how.” Between his thick Southern accent and street vocabulary I understood perhaps two-thirds of the words of an incredible story.

He made a lot of money as a teen-age drug dealer. Skated the edge of danger, managed to avoid incarceration and violent death that took most of his friends.

Somehow, he found Jesus. No explanation, he just knew one day he didn’t want “the life” any longer. So, he quit.

In quitting, he encountered a brutal reality: no skills, education, family, or friends. “The life” was his support system. Walking away meant leaving everything, stepping into nothing. He lived on the streets because he had nothing else.

He knew he had none of what he needed to create a different life, acknowledged it was his fault. All he had was determination and faith that God wouldn’t let him down.

He faced a difficult path. I pray he held onto that determination and allowed God to show him the way out of his personal darkness.

While we talked, I noticed a big man in a dirty green sweatshirt waiting calmly. As he walked directly toward me, I could see tears streaming down his cheeks. He leaned over and gave me a huge burly hug.

With his head next to mine he whispered, “I can do this.”

He stood, blinked away tears, and shook my hand. In a strong, clear voice he repeated, “I can do this.”

Then he turned and strode out of the room.

+ + +

I don’t know what to do with stories like this. Both faced huge, self-created obstacles. Both walked away confidently, but I know enough only to be certain neither experienced a quick, easy path.

Both knew Jesus and both took an important first step by acknowledging their mistakes. They had access to at least a minimal support system. But we all know it’s not that easy.

I’ll likely never know the outcomes of these two tales. But I know the proper seeds were scattered, and I trust the Gardener. That has to be enough.

To be continued (in January, a remarkable conclusion)…