I remember way back in grade school and Junior High my school would occasionally venture out on a Thursday night to the "Christian skate night" at our local roller skating rink (FunWay). This was always a crazy time for me filled with anticipation, fun, and nervous excitement. The smell of popcorn and floor cleaner filled the air. The noise of dozens of video games captured my heart for adventure while the flashing lights beckoned me to succumb to their blissful escapism.
Most of the night I would hang out with my guy friends. We would talk about girls, movies, BB guns, etc. Sometimes we would even debate the never ending deep questions in life like who was better- Luke or Han? Or what shows were the coolest- The A-Team, Star Trek, Knight Rider or Battlestar Galactica? We would vie for position by trying to get the DJ to play our favorite songs the most- Christian songs only, of course.
We would even skate sometimes... and that was the most unnerving part of the whole experience. The skating rink was slippery and the four wheels beneath me (not inline either) mocked me as if to say, "You can't do this ya chicken" as I tried to brave the ice-like oval of death... ok, maybe that's a bit dramatic. Without fail, down I would go; falling from my confidence back into my safe place of timidity... and the sidelines.
Then it would happen. The moment I had waited for all night- couple's skate for the last song. This was the convergence of time and space when all things slowed to a virtual halt and I would frantically search for that one special girl that I had been wanting to ask all night to skate with me. My mouth would instantly go dry while my hands seemed to get all of the moisture my mouth really needed. So I would do what any self-respecting male should do in that moment... I would run to the bathroom (well, skated really).
Upon having the "locker room prep talk" with my reflection in the mirror, I would carefully emerge from my solitude to begin my tunnel vision approach. Nothing else mattered at this point. It was as if the rest of the world was out-of-focus and only she was in focus. Which worked great until she noticed me. Then I'd slowly start to rethink my actions as my skates came to a halt and my knees started to buckle.
You see, this was a big deal. After all, it meant that we got to hold hands in public! That's like your Facebook status reading, "in a relationship." It was almost a guarantee of hooking up- rated 'G' style.
Out of the dark, unfocused blur of my vision would come a familiar voice, "David, (that's what they called me then) aren't you going to ask her to skate?" It was my best friend. The one in whom I had utmost confidence and utter confidentiality. We told each other everything and shared life together. My thoughts collided with emotions while I tried to reason my way in and out and back in to this situation.
"How did I get here and what am I doing?" I would wonder to myself.
It was always at this point that I would feel it- the nudge. My friend would gently nudge me and tell me to go ahead. His affirmation was the approval I needed to gain the confidence necessary to act but it was still up to me to move. It all started with his gentle nudge.
I get these same type of nudges from God, but more specifically, from the Spirit of Jesus alive within me. I know, it sounds weird. I could illustrate for you dozens of stories of how this is true in my life but one in particular is still echoing throughout my head and my heart.
Let's contextualize the story a bit with some background.
I attended Gateway's Advance Leadership Weekend this past September 11-12th. Neil Cole came to broaden our focus on what it means to "do church" and how to organically build into new leaders. For lunch on the Saturday the 12th, we had Chick-Fil-A sandwiches. They were generous and had coupons for free sandwiches laying on the table where our box lunches were located. I grabbed one not wanting to be greedy until I realized that I had no job and no steady income. Then I grabbed enough for one meal with my wife and son.
Then I paused...
Why not grab a whole handful? Chick-Fil-A doesn't care. I doubt Gateway minds. Half of the people attending that day had already grabbed their food and were off to their breakout session. Why not? Then I heard my mouth say out loud, "These would be great to give to homeless people. I'm gonna grab a whole bunch." Which actually ended up being four. The people around me heard me and started to do the same.
Flashforward to last week Friday.
My wife, son and I decided to spend the Friday before my son's birthday celebrating the entire day as a family. Even though his birthday was not until Monday, we made a weekend out of enjoying time with one another. As we were pulling up to the Chick-Fil-A at 183 and Braker in Austin, I noticed a ragamuffin, hobo looking guy begging for money.
The nudge happened. I felt Jesus nudge me to give this guy one of our Chick-Fil-A sandwich coupons. It was almost tangible it was so real. You may know exactly what I am talking about.
Then I started to rationalize the situation.
"But c'mon Jesus, he's three lanes over and this light is gre..." I though to myself as the light turned to yellow and then red.
Sitting there at the red light, I just kept looking over at him. I had no idea what to do.
The nudge happened again.
I took off my seatbelt, grabbed all four of our coupons, and told Lisa that I would be back. If not, I would walk over to Chick-Fil-A to meet up with them. So I jumped out of our truck and ran across the three lanes of stopped traffic.
Surprised, the guy turned to see who this was that had now entered his turf. I wanted to take off my sandals because I became aware that I was standing on Holy ground at that moment. I told him that I had a free sandwich for him and quickly noticed another guy resting under the overpass. I asked if he knew of anyone else that could use a free chicken sandwich and then proceeded to give him all four coupons. He lit up and thanked me repeatedly.
I told him that I wished I could do more... ((nudge)) then I asked if I could pray with him. He instantly teared up and his voice cracked as he attempted to keep his composure. He proceeded to tell me how he was a Vet and was dying. He pulled out of his pocket half a dozen inhalers that are keeping him alive. He told me that on October the 19th he was going to go before a judge to try to plead for Veteran Assistance so that he could obtain the necessary medication needed to stay alive.
His life is hanging in the balance of our judicial system. I was staring into the eyes of a dying man that the world had forgotten about.
So we prayed together. I started praying for him very generally but moved more specifically to his plight then I asked him his name.
"My name is Rebel," he replied.
"Rebel?"
"Yeah, Rebel," he said gently.
With tears in both our eyes I concluded my prayer for my brother Rebel. We embraced, hugging like long lost brothers or like soldiers realizing that this may be their last encounter before heading into an uncertain battle. I shared with him the reason I cared for him and told him that Jesus loved him. He already knew Jesus. He then began to share with me the hope that he has because of his faith and trust in Jesus. We were both a mess at this point.
At that moment I knew that I was looking into Jesus' eyes, not Rebel's.
Now, I was somewhat hesitant to share this story because it would be easy to assume that this story is about me. That's not true. It is not about me but it does involve me. The real protagonist of this story is Jesus. See, I believe that faith in Jesus is almost pointless without it leading to action. I mean, what good is it to gain knowledge or spirituality or even believe in Jesus if it doesn't allow you to fully live a transformed life; to live as a spiritual activist for Jesus?
Jesus is my best friend. He is the One in whom I have utmost confidence. He gently nudged me and told me to go ahead. His affirmation was the only approval I needed to gain the confidence necessary to act but it was still up to me to move. It all started with His gentle nudge.
|
composed by
dave
|
