I was standing on the Mass Rail Transit (MRT) platform behind my apartment. I am already late for the “footy” (Australian Football) game broadcast with friends. Other than that, nothing unexpected is happening. As I exchange SMS messages, a call comes in from a good friend’s girlfriend.
“You have no idea what I’ve done. I helped an old homeless man who fell down in an intersection.”
“Fantastic!”
“No, you have no idea what I’ve done. I didn’t just help. I witnessed to him!”
“You did what?”
“I witnessed to him and offered to take him to church.”
“When are we going?”
We have spoken about going to church as she has not been in a long time. She grew up in a family that went to church every Sunday. At some point in University there were more Sundays with excuses than there were Sundays with hymns. I had offered to go with her but excuses were still trumping the act of going.
“You realize that in thinking about reaching out to God that God has reached out to you? This is fantastic.”
Over the next few hours I researched options for church that would fit an old man, likely conservative, and someone innocently responding to a push from the Spirit. I found an English service that would work, close and convenient. As we talked about going, I realized that I was an integral part of going. The gap had been long enough for her to be convinced that she could not do it on her own.
Even as I began to assure her that things had not changed, I realized that there are areas in my life where I am petrified. I want someone to be there with me. I ask, plead, beg for help. Metaphorically it comes to; “Grab a weapon, anything at hand; stand up for me!” (Psalm 35.2) I’m desperate.
I think it is good to be desperate, especially in things spiritual. Life reminds me that it creates opportunity fore the Spirit and others to work with me. Working together is always good.
