I am deeply intrigued by people. I often wonder why this is, and I think it is because we are so complex. Each person has his or her own story. Passions. Fears. Experiences. These aspects (and more) yield a rich depth within oneself that can never be understood by another. Or perhaps even by oneself. So often we view others as either a flawed version of ourselves or with a rational detachment. We view them as a body, not a soul. And even though we know "they are more," we don't empathize with them. Certainly, at times, we sympathize with them. But rarely do we allow ourselves to view our (also) broken brothers and sisters through a lens of empathy and love.
Last night I experienced some of this empathy, and it hurts. A friend of mine was in a karaoke competition at a bar, so I went. I listened to people sing, watched people sit and drink and interact with friends, and thought. The majority of the women there seemed incredibly insecure. Provocative dresses, thick and clumpy mascara, fake tans, lots of hairspray, and outfits that screamed "I wish I were younger." Many men sat drinking alone, or with the aforementioned women. My first thought was, "I don't ever want to become that." But then I realized, I don't think they did either. I don't think that they intentionally chose to be where they are at in life right now. Not that there is anything wrong with drinking in a bar, but I could tell that there was so much hurt and questions and insecurity walled up within these people.
About halfway through the evening, an man (who appeared to be in his sixties) asked my friend and I if he could sit at our tiny table. We agreed, and throughout the evening, engaged in small talk with the gentleman (who introduced himself as Colin). I don't have the time or energy (mental or emotional) to write about the conversation that ensued. These are some things that happened, though.
Colin asked me (out of the blue) if I was "religious." I shared with Colin about Jesus. Colin drank and cried. He told me he is lonely and worthless and wants to die. Colin wanted to commit suicide and jump off a bridge. He tried to find Jesus and never could. He felt like he had nothing to offer. He felt as though he had screwed up beyond all hope. I prayed for and with Colin. A young man walked up. Colin asked him if he was religious. The man said that he is Christian. Rodney and I prayed over Colin again. Colin felt hope and determination. Colin told us that he found Jesus. He was determined to change. We explained that Jesus loves him just as he is. He is broken. I am broken. We are broken. But we are whole in Him.
The preceding words are completely inadequate to describe the evening. But God was working. I cried the whole drive home, hurting for people like Colin...and the many many people like him that we encounter every day.
I just wish that every person knew he or she is loved and valuable. Brokenness is a part of humanity, but not all of it. We are fellow humans journeying through our own stories. Life is hard, so let's at least love one another along the way.
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