The four-day festival began on Thursday. By Saturday morning, I was discouraged. I had seen more boobs and butts than I had ever asked to see --- and seemed disconnected from the participants because I simply didn't "look the part." I was fully clothed and in complete control of my senses [not high or intoxicated]. This was definitely a plus for me personally, but a negative when it came to relating to those around me, to those I had come to talk to about Jesus. They saw right away that I did not belong. I lacked an avenue of connection.
Saturday morning, Jesus told me to bring my guitar. I brought it, completely unaware that every conversation, for the rest of the event, would revolve around that guitar. Lifting it into the van that afternoon I thought, "Even if nobody wanted to hear me talk about Jesus, I knew Jesus wanted to hear me worship."
I didn't know it, but Vincent [another YWAM staff] felt
like he should bring a guitar, too.
We sat down on an empty trash-filled corner. Pulled out the worship notebook and began to play. The masses staggered by, seemingly unmoved and indifferent to our worship of Jesus.
We start a second song. O How He Loves. A woman came by to listen. After the song, we chatted. She liked to sing, but never out-loud in public. The friends she was waiting for, arrived. She left saying 'no, thanks' to our offer to pray for her.
"YAY! Colorado!" my roommate shouts out to a man passing us with a Colorado shirt. Rick sits down in the grass to talk to this patriotic fellow Coloradan. "Can we pray for you, Rick?" His hands go up to cover his face. When he moves his hands, we see tears.
Rick opens up to us. His daughter is a missionary in Ethiopia. He knows who Jesus is.
"I know you don't believe me, because of this beer can in my hand, but I'm a Christian, " he said.
I looked back at him, "Rick, we're not here to talk about your beer can. I want to talk about your heart. Where is your heart ... is your heart turned toward Jesus?"
"Well, you know it isn't ... or I wouldn't be here." The tears came again.
Rick shared with us about his daughters. He loves them like only a father can, worries for their well-being, and encourages them to follow their heart.
Rick soon became our fast friend. He appreciated our music. He listened as we shared our walks with Jesus. He introduced us to his friend CoCo, who owned the booth across from us, insisting that we play and share with her.
Rick came back to our booth on the last day to say good-bye, promising to read the New Testament we gave him. Written inside: To Rick ... "We won't forget you!"
Rick posing with Jenni to take a "Coloradan" picture
[picture courtesy of Sarah McCormick Studios]
0 comments:
Post a Comment