I was sitting down on the sidewalk of Brook Ave in the South Bronx last Saturday. My great friend Steve Buczkowski had brought me one of our folding chairs so I could rest my leg while maintaining a panoramic view of the Relief Bus outreach and simultaneously accomplishing some measure of obedience to my surgeon who, in no uncertain terms, told me to avoid going out to the street where I had injured my knee one month prior (in his words, I’m an “altruistic do-gooder” who may not be able to refrain from re-injuring myself… It wasn’t a compliment).
I had just sat down when a slightly inebriated man named Ramon walked up to Steve and asked him if Outreach Team Leader, Sean Ballentine was around.
“No. He’s at the other location today, but Josiah is here.” He gestured in my direction.
“Sean is my good, good friend.” Ramon replied. He was visibly disappointed but he followed Steve over to me nonetheless.
“What’s going on, man? I’m Josiah, what’s your name?”
“Ramon. I know Sean. I love Sean. He is my friend.”
“Sean is a great guy, but he’s in Harlem today. I’d like to be your friend too!”
Then he said it: “I’m a f*ck-up.”
“We all are, man. That’s kind of the point. If we weren’t all ‘f*ck-ups’ we wouldn’t need Jesus, would we? But why do you say that?”
He pointed at his large plastic McDonald’s cup that was sitting against the wall filled with an auburn colored liquid. He explained how he intended to finish his beer, even though we could tell he was deeply ashamed of that fact.
We asked if we could pray for him.
He said yes.
We prayed.
Steve then asked him if he would pray. He wasn’t asking him to pray the “sinner’s prayer” or say anything specific. Steve was just suggesting he re-establish contact with the God who made him and loves him. Like many folks we serve in the street, the idea of someone volunteering at the Relief Bus asking him, someone being served at the Relief Bus, to pray caught him off guard. But he agreed.
We held hands.
“Lord, I am desperate. You know I am a sinner. You know without you, I have nothing. I’m sorry for being a ‘f*ck-up.’ I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know I’m a sinner. I’m sorry.” He finished and wiped tears from his eyes.
“Ramon, I want to read you a story from the Bible. Can I do that? I really feel God wants you to know something.”
He agreed.
I pulled out my phone and found Luke 18:9-14. I took some poetic license with the text and read to him.
“To some who were confident of their own goodness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this story: ‘Two men went to church and prayed, one a Pastor and the other a drunk. The Pastor stood up at the pulpit and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, murderers, junkies—or even like this drunk. I volunteer and give a tenth of all I get to the less fortunate.’
“But the drunk stood at the very back. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his fists and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’
“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
“Ramon, based on what you just prayed, I’m telling you with the authority of Jesus Christ and the scriptures that you are going to walk away from this bus forgiven and justified by God. Be at peace, my friend.”
I hugged him.
Grace and Peace,
