Into The Highways And Hedges
...Go out into the highways and hedges, and compel them to come in, that my house may be filled. Luke 14:23
For some time now, I have enjoyed accompanying a friend of mine, Bill, as he ministers to "street people" on a weekly basis. Last year, Bill and I met a particular drunk, a destitute in the street. I would like to tell you about Robert. We usually found this man either sitting or lying down because he could not stand up. He consumed so much alcohol one could see it seeping from the pores on his face, mingled with blood. The smell alone would have kept most folks away, but God always made it easy for us to speak with him. When Robert would see us approach, he would begin crying, asking us to pray. We never refused. He would say that he knew better, he used to attend church, and that he had a sister who was always praying for him. But, he always added, it was no use, he could not stop drinking. He was a Native American, born in Canada, who had inherited a weakness for alcohol, he said. One Friday night, as we were walking to his usual spot to check on him, we saw a police car stop. As we got closer, the policemen got out and started putting on rubber gloves, their normal practice when arresting drunks. I went to Robert, who was sitting down, crying and scared, aware of what was about to happen. Bill walked towards the approaching officers and stepped between them and us. The officers looked up from adjusting their gloves, glanced once at Bill, down at his big black Bible, and then at each other. Without a word, they turned, took off their gloves, got into their cruiser and left. Bill walked back to Robert and asked if he understood what had just happened: God was giving him another chance. He needed to go home. Robert got unsteadily to his feet, grabbed our arms as we stood on either side of him, and asked for prayer. He wanted us to pray that God would help him to get home. We prayed. He cried. He asked me if I would call his pastor in Murfreesboro the next morning. He wanted me to tell his pastor that he wanted to come home. He wanted me to ask if the pastor and his sister would come and get him. He gave me their names, which I wrote in my Bible next to where I had written his when we first met. He left saying he had something to do. The next morning I contacted his pastor. He remembered Robert. I told him where he could find him in downtown Nashville, on Broadway. He thanked me and said he would call Robert's sister. Last night, Friday, on a Broadway sidewalk, while the bars got filled and the music blared, a man accompanied by two women and a younger man and woman, walked by in front of us. I looked into the older man's face: clean with clear eyes and an easy smile. I reached over, touched his shoulder and asked if he had been on the streets before. He said, "Yes." I asked him his name. He said, "Robert". I asked, "Robert What?" He said, "Robert B." I opened my Bible and pointed to a name: "This Robert B?" He looked at where I was pointing, turned to one of the ladies and said, "Hey Sis, there's your name, too!" Robert, the drunk. Robert, the homeless. Robert, the destitute. Robert, who stunk. Robert, who could not stand. Robert, who had no chance. All former descriptions of this Robert who now stood in front of me, smiling a smile of love and peace. He and his two sisters, along with a friend and the friend's wife, all heading home after having spent time down on Broadway, "beer alley", witnessing about salvation in Jesus Christ to those who were as hopeless as he had once been.
Submitted by a personal friend to give God all the Glory. Used with permission.
Then shalt thou call, and the Lord shall answer; thou shalt cry, and he shall say, Here I am... Isaiah 58:9
He Looked Beyond My Faults
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