Our church is located inside a mall, and the school attached to our church, along with the precious souls in it, are mine to protect from Monday to Friday each week. The school is located near an entrance to the mall, and just outside that entrance is a bus stop. It’s a hub, actually, and every thirty minutes, a number of buses park outside the mall doors for a few minutes as their largely impoverished clientele pour out onto the sidewalk and mill about, either inside or outside the mall.
Some have places to be and are waiting for their next bus. For others, this is as far as their day will take them, and they plunk themselves down to dissolve what is left of the day with some sort of substance or another. It’s the latter group that I have come to know best, and we co-exist mostly peacefully while I stand vigilant as children and their parents bustle to and from their vehicles at pickup time.
Yesterday, one of the regulars approached me and said very matter-of-factly that he wanted to kill himself and he needed help. He had tried a couple of weeks ago; he showed me where the stitches had been removed, and he said he was in a really dark place. He wasn’t asking me to save him; instead, he was concerned about the bag of perishable food he was holding. He wanted to know if I knew anyone in need, as he didn’t want it to go to waste. He was resigned to his destiny and, like any responsible man, I suppose, logic demanded that he put his final affairs in order.
His days are spent on a bench outside the mall, and his nights are spent curled up in the bush near the local Walmart store. He numbs the pain with whatever he can get whenever he can get it, and he has finally grown weary and has come to the end of himself. He felt that his life had no meaning or purpose and there was no sense going on. In his mind, approaching me with his plans was not alarming. He was just taking care of some final details before he did the world a favor.
I looked him in the eye and just held there for a tick. I saw a trainwreck of a life standing there, until the Holy Spirit reminded me that he was a child of God, just like me. It sank in, and my heart changed. I smiled and told him I was going to get him some help. I told him that God has a plan for his life, that even this has a purpose, and God will use it for good. He became apologetic and said he would be fine and wanted to take his bag of perishables and go. I stood there in my uniform, tactical black, external body armor, loaded magazines, handcuffs, pepper spray and baton, and my gun hanging menacingly in a leg rig on my right thigh. I called him by name and told him he was going to be OK, that he was going to stay with me, and we were going to get him some help. I told him God loved him.
I called 911 and asked for a deputy to come by so we could get him to a hospital for a few days, and I would talk to the pastor and get him some help long-term. Then I promised to stay with him until the deputies came. He broke down, and I put my arm around him and held him for a while. Then we walked to the mall doors and out onto the street. We met with the deputy, who was kind and compassionate and treated the man with respect and dignity.
As we were loading him into the deputy’s vehicle, another regular, well into his daily portion of alcohol, became loud and highly agitated upon seeing his friend being taken away by law enforcement. I know this guy well, so I approached and tried to de-escalate. He, on the other hand, wanted to settle the matter the old-fashioned way and let me know that in no uncertain terms. Now, there was a time when I would have obliged him, and while the devil was telling me how good it would feel to flatten his tires right then and there, I didn’t. The Holy Spirit told me to have self-control, patience, and to be firm, but to treat him kindly. I listened and soon his friends and a bus driver who knew him well had coaxed him onto a waiting bus and they left.
This morning I came to work, and that same guy was waiting at the bus stop again. It was early and it was just him and me out there, so I walked over to him. My first instinct was less than admirable, but I felt the Holy Spirit again telling me to take a different approach.
The booze had dissipated, and he was quiet. I kindly asked him how he was doing, which, by his response, was unexpected. He put his head down and apologized, and he told me he has a drinking problem, and when he drinks, he “gets like that”. I told him I should have sent him to jail, but I was worried about him. I knew he would be back and we would talk when he was more reasonable. He talked about his battle with alcoholism and violence, and we talked about solutions. I told him God has a plan for his life, and being drunk and picking fights was not it. He asked me to pray for him, and so I did. I hugged him, and he broke down crying. He wept for a while, and then he asked me for help. A short while later, one of our pastors was with him.
I sat down to lunch just now and had to write this out. The not-so-long-ago Terry would not have cared as much and probably would have dealt with those two men differently. More matter-of-fact and professional but more cynical and indifferent. Much differently than the way I choose to deal with things now. I am not proud to admit this, but a few years ago, the first guy would probably be in the morgue by now, and the second guy would be in a hospital bed or in jail.
I have changed, but it was God who changed me. It’s been a few years now studying the Bible and getting to know God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit, and learning about His promises, His power, and what He wants from me. I am in the final year of my bachelor’s degree in Ministry Studies. I don’t expect I’ll be called to be a pastor any time soon, but God can use any believer to do His work if they are willing, obedient, and humble.
As I write this, a man is in a hospital getting help for his depression, and another has hope now and a support system to help him win his fight with alcohol addiction. It wasn’t me that did it. My flesh, the human Terry, is not capable of that. But God changed my heart, and he gave me the words and circumstances to make a difference by His Holy Spirit working through me.
And two men found hope, and as imperfect as I am, they felt the love of Jesus Christ flow through a man dressed in a uniform and armed for battle, usually with men like them.
Only God can do that.
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law. And those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit.
Galations 5:22–25 NKJV
