"What should we do?" said the other woman at the bus stop. (I, the woman with dark brown hair, the African-American woman who just spoke, and another man about college aged, stood watching this entire event.) The African-American woman also had dark brown eyes and bushy black hair that stood with a ferocity that contrasted the beauty of her humility.
"Accept the good news and change the way you live," the man of God warmly responded.
"What do you think about this so called 'message?'" The first woman sarcastically asked the college aged man.
"I don't think anything about it. He's free to believe whatever he wants." But he spoke hesitantly, with a slight tremble, like someone trying to convince himself of something he doesn't really believe.
"I accept your message sir," said the African-American woman. "I give my life to God right now."
"God's Spirit will lead you from now on."
"Sir, how do we know what you're saying is true?" I asked. I don't know why I and the African-American woman called him "sir."
"You knew from the time I spoke. You heard God Himself speaking through me to you."
He was right. I did. That's what I was trying to say earlier, but didn't know how. It really was like God was speaking to me through him, to all of us through him. Even the angry woman looked scared now. I could tell she also knew God was speaking.
"I don't want God in my life!" she yelled. This shocked all of us except the man of God.
"Then He won't be. But He loves you and will welcome you if you change your mind."
Tears filled the angry woman's eyes. They filled mine too. I could feel God's love in the man's voice, and I could see how deeply it touched the angry woman.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you," she said softly and sadly. For the first time, she looked sweet, again to my surprise.
"God loves you."
"I know He does. I'm sorry for everything I've ever done. Will He forgive me?"
"He does forgive you. Follow His Spirit from now on."
I saw something beyond words. The African-American woman and the formerly angry woman looked so peaceful they almost glowed. They were radiant. Like when someone has really clear healthy skin and they are pondering a beautiful memory.
"What about you two? How do you respond to God's message?
Click HERE for part 3
Sunday, October 16, 2016
The Man of God at the Bus Stop (Part 1)
Everyone listen, I have extremely good news:
God has come to the earth; God has taken charge of this world.
I and three others at the bus stop looked at this man of God, unsure of how to respond. I can't explain it, but something about the way he gave his message struck me. He sounded like a news reporter, a police officer, and an excited fan of a team that just won the final game. In other words, I believed him. I can't explain why. From the looks of the other three with me, they also believed him...at least in the sense of feeling like his words were an accurate report of a real event. But their responses varied sharply.
"Who do you think you are?! All I'm trying to do is wait for the stupid bus, and here you come, shoving your religion down our throats!" The woman with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes never let her gaze off of the man of God. Never. Her breathing sped on as her chest heaved up and down. Her fists clenched and reddened.
"I am only delivering a message," said the man of God calmly.
Click HERE for part 2
The Man of God at the Bus Stop (Part 1)
Everyone listen, I have extremely good news:
God has come to the earth; God has taken charge of this world.
I and three others at the bus stop looked at this man of God, unsure of how to respond. I can't explain it, but something about the way he gave his message struck me. He sounded like a news reporter, a police officer, and an excited fan of a team that just won the final game. In other words, I believed him. I can't explain why. From the looks of the other three with me, they also believed him...at least in the sense of feeling like his words were an accurate report of a real event. But their responses varied sharply.
"Who do you think you are?! All I'm trying to do is wait for the stupid bus, and here you come, shoving your religion down our throats!" The woman with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes never let her gaze off of the man of God. Never. Her breathing sped on as her chest heaved up and down. Her fists clenched and reddened.
"I am only delivering a message," said the man of God calmly.
Click HERE for part 2
The Man of God at the Bus Stop (Part 3)
"I don't know," said the college man. "I'm not convinced, and I'm honestly not even considering what you're saying. I think science has already proven God doesn't exist."
I'd heard college students say what this man said. Yet somehow when he said it, I knew that neither he nor any of them had the confidence that they feigned.
"And you? What's your response?"
I thought carefully. I knew God spoke through this man. I knew it. But I was hesitant. Not because of fear or doubt or disbelief. I just didn't want to give my life to God, knowing He was real. I finally understood that all along, I wanted to run my own life. I could feel God's presence in the world, just as the man of God said. I knew He was on earth now. I think I had always known. But I didn't want Him to be.
"I have to think about it."
"You understand that you're already making up your mind. You've already decided."
Now I felt scared. He was right. But I didn't want it to be that final.
"I'm not saying I reject the message or anything," said the college man suddenly. "I'm not really an atheist. More of an agnostic."
"You know God is speaking to you through me." the man of God said. This time his voice sounded firm.
"I know. Maybe I just don't know what kind of God is speaking through you."
"You know He made you and that your life is His."
The college man looked down. He stood silent for a long time. As he stood, we all heard the bus coming from afar. Again, I can't explain this, but I knew that I had to make up my mind before the bus arrived. So did the college man.
"Please listen to him," said the African-American woman.
"I know it's hard, but that's because you're resisting what you know...just like I did," said the other woman.
The bus came into sight, about four stops away.
I felt like I needed to simply do it. So I did it.
"I give my life to God." It's like I wanted to say it before I could come up with any more excuses.
"I do too. I give my life to God," said the college man quickly.
We looked at each other and saw the same warm glow we'd seen on the women's faces.
"God's Spirit is in all of you. Now you are men and women of God. His messengers. Your first act for Him is to give the message to those on the bus. Who will speak, and who will pray for the ones speaking?"
"I'll speak," said the college man.
"So will I," said the formerly angry woman.
"I'll pray for you," I told the woman.
"And I'll pray for you," said the African-American woman to the college man.
"I pray that God gives you power as you speak and as you pray."
Then the bus came.
We all got on the bus and sat in the four empty seats at the front of the bus.
We waved to the man of God at the bus stop. He waved back, his face warmly glowing.
I'd heard college students say what this man said. Yet somehow when he said it, I knew that neither he nor any of them had the confidence that they feigned.
"And you? What's your response?"
I thought carefully. I knew God spoke through this man. I knew it. But I was hesitant. Not because of fear or doubt or disbelief. I just didn't want to give my life to God, knowing He was real. I finally understood that all along, I wanted to run my own life. I could feel God's presence in the world, just as the man of God said. I knew He was on earth now. I think I had always known. But I didn't want Him to be.
"I have to think about it."
"You understand that you're already making up your mind. You've already decided."
Now I felt scared. He was right. But I didn't want it to be that final.
"I'm not saying I reject the message or anything," said the college man suddenly. "I'm not really an atheist. More of an agnostic."
"You know God is speaking to you through me." the man of God said. This time his voice sounded firm.
"I know. Maybe I just don't know what kind of God is speaking through you."
"You know He made you and that your life is His."
The college man looked down. He stood silent for a long time. As he stood, we all heard the bus coming from afar. Again, I can't explain this, but I knew that I had to make up my mind before the bus arrived. So did the college man.
"Please listen to him," said the African-American woman.
"I know it's hard, but that's because you're resisting what you know...just like I did," said the other woman.
The bus came into sight, about four stops away.
I felt like I needed to simply do it. So I did it.
"I give my life to God." It's like I wanted to say it before I could come up with any more excuses.
"I do too. I give my life to God," said the college man quickly.
We looked at each other and saw the same warm glow we'd seen on the women's faces.
"God's Spirit is in all of you. Now you are men and women of God. His messengers. Your first act for Him is to give the message to those on the bus. Who will speak, and who will pray for the ones speaking?"
"I'll speak," said the college man.
"So will I," said the formerly angry woman.
"I'll pray for you," I told the woman.
"And I'll pray for you," said the African-American woman to the college man.
"I pray that God gives you power as you speak and as you pray."
Then the bus came.
We all got on the bus and sat in the four empty seats at the front of the bus.
We waved to the man of God at the bus stop. He waved back, his face warmly glowing.
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