I knock at the paint-chipped front door.

"Who's there?"

"Randy, with MUMs Transportation"

From behind the door, the voice is gruff and belligerent, "What do you want?"

"Donna, at Centerstone (Mental Health Clinic), said that you needed to come in for a shot.  I'm here to take you there"

"Oh."  The door opens.  His head is down. 

He looks to be mid-twenties.  Tall.  Handsome.  Worn.  Listless.  No smile.  No expression.     

"I'll get my cap."  The door closes, again.

I walk back to the van to wait for him.

He stumbles a bit coming down the steps.  He's wearing an army field jacket against the cold.  Looks like he just woke up.  It's almost noon.  On the driveway, he weaves a bit, corrects himself.  Head remains down.  Slowly negotiates his way to the van.

Inside, as he buckles up, he looks up at me for the first time  "You Smoke?"   His eyes are dull except for a tiny spark of smoldering anger.

"No", I reply.

"Mind if I do?"

"I rather you didn't." The air grows thick as the smoke that would have filled the van.

 I wait a couple of minutes for it to clear, then ask, "Have you lived here long?."

"No." It's the kind of  "No" which implies, "OK, just this once, I'm going to do you a favor and answer your question."

"Are you from around here?"

"No"  (Are you still here, asking questions?)

Oh, Lord, I'm going to need some wisdom here.

Wait a while longer.  Try again.

"Well, it's actually turned into a beautiful day."

Sullen silence.

  "Your case-worker said that you were coming in to get a shot.  Are you feeling alright?"

The length (and the heat) of his response surprises me, "Oh, I'm  doing
JUST GREAT."  Sarcasm hangs heavy from the comment, " I just love being broke and over-medicated.  You ought to try it some time."

Well, at least it IS a response, and a bad response is better than no response at all.  Besides, I think he just opened a door that I can step through.   

"Actually I have tried it," I said, "Though it was years ago.  And, you're right - it's no fun, at all.  It's like being trapped and you can't find any way out."

Sarcasm, again, "Well, you just know ALL ABOUT ME don't you?"

This is going nowhere, which is exactly where he wants it to go.  I decide to take the direct approach. 

Breathing a quick prayer, (he's about 4 inches taller than me, and outweighs me by more than a few pounds) I wade in,  . . . . . "Well no, I don't know EVERYTHING about you, but I do know a FEW THINGS about you.  For Instance, I know that you are rude.  I know that you are very sarcastic.  I know that you are so busy thinking about yourself that you can't carry on a simple conversation with someone.  I know that you are angry and frustrated with life.  And, I know that you're not going to get anywhere fast until you get over it.  I know that you're afraid to let anybody in, which usually means that you were very deeply hurt somewhere along the line.  I know that you haven't forgiven whoever or whatever hurt you, and it's got you all bound up.

Instead of tearing me limb from limb (thank you, Lord) his face softens.  He relaxes, and for the rest of our ride together, he gives me the respect of his attention. 

God's Presence fills the van as I tell him how Jesus healed all my hurts, how Jesus taught me that I must love and forgive, how Jesus accepted my repentance over all the sins that I had committed.  I tell him how I had put Jesus on the bottom of my list and how the Lord waited there patiently until I finally reached the bottom and called out to Him for help.  I tell him how God has put my life back together.

Later that day, on the ride back, he made a real effort to be friendly.   We actually had some pleasant conversation.  He thanked me for the ride.  I told him that I would be praying for him.

My heart is heavy remembering the oppressiveness that hangs all around this young man.  More than likely, he will spend his Christmas alone in that darkened old run-down shack .

If he will only ask, Christ will come into that old house and gloriously fill it with his Presence.  What a difference that would make!

This Christmas, will you remember to pray for this young man?  

Maybe he's close to the bottom of HIS list!