Walking People Towards Jesus

Let's call him Mack. His real name doesn't matter for the purpose of this story. Mostly, because I believe his story is far from over. Mack is a middle-aged African-American gentleman I see walking around town occasionally. He is a bit of a loner. My first recollection of Mack is seeing him slip in the back doors of the church just as I started preaching one Sunday. He sat down near the front and stayed locked in on me through the entire message. Mack was vocal throughout the message with his "Amens" and "That's rights." As he left, he told me how much he enjoyed it. In the months following, Mack would pop in occasionally, slide in the back after the singing ended and the preaching started, and then head out the minute the sermon was over.

It's been quite a while now since I have seen him in church. He walks around town often. I have offered to give him a ride, but he always declines. In recent years, the few times our paths have crossed, he's been in the bottle. He asked me for money one night while I was walking out of a local sub shop. 

Not knowing it was me he said, "Hey man can you help a brother out? I need some money for some liquor. I'm not going to lie and tell you it's for food, I just need some liquor." 

Lifting the brim of my hat, the street light illuminated my face. "Mack, now you know I'm not giving you money to support that habit."

Immediately recognizing me he sheepishly said, "Well, I didn't lie. I told you what I was going to do with the money."

"No Mack, you didn't lie." 

I didn't judge him. I just tried to carry on a conversation with him to get to the bottom of his pain a bit. I recall he told me that night he grew up in church. Something happened in the past that turned him against it but he wouldn't get into it. Since that night, other than seeing him walking the streets of town occasionally, I haven't spoken to Mack directly in months. 

However, a few weeks ago, our paths crossed again. It was Sunday morning and I had just come out of the church. I thought my wife was behind me, but she stepped back inside to speak to someone. Having just settled into the driver's seat, I saw Mack walking up in my side mirror. I rolled down the window. He looked aged, worn, and several pounds heavier than when I saw him last.

"What's up Mack?"

"Man, I want to get a soda and go watch the game. You got money for a soda?"

"Sure, come on and we'll go in that store right there and I'll get you one." 

We walked into the grocery store next door and Mack went to the back to get a soda. Coming back to the front he asked for an ice cream too.

"Get an ice cream, I'll pay for it."

"I need a pack of smokes too."

"I'm not paying for cigarettes, Mack."

"Ok."

He put his stuff on the counter, I paid the man behind the register and we walked outside. We stood there for a minute as he unwrapped the ice cream cone.

"Thanks"

"You're welcome. How you been?"

"I quit drinking. It nearly killed me. Eighty days. It's been eighty days since I had a drink. It's hard."

"I know addictions are hard Mack. You know we have a Celebrate Recovery ministry here at the church. Have you thought about coming on a Thursday night?"

He shook his head, "Nah."

I pointed to a friend of mine loading the welcome signs about 30 feet from me on the sidewalk. I said, "That man is a recovered alcoholic and he'd love nothing more than to talk to you about it. I know him and I know his story."

Mack declined. We made small talk a few minutes more and I told him I was proud of his sobriety and we were here to help if he needed help. Then we parted ways.

I tell this story to say this. Many people who are far from God don't make one giant step back to him. Some do, but not all. Their own hurt and shame and the judgement of others keep them at a distance from anything resembling God or the church. Instead, they are loved back to Jesus one step at a time by those who love like Jesus.