It was a Tuesday morning and I was making my recycling
rounds for Being Alive San Diego, a non-profit that serves people who are HIV+.
I was on my normal route in the North Park area and didn’t really think the day
would be all that different, but I was wrong.
I stopped at one location where I had gotten to know a few
of the people there including the Treasurer of this non-profit in North Park.
This place seeks to help HIV+ people and the homeless as well. They have a
thrift store and even offer laundry facilities. It was right after Christmas
and I hadn’t been for a couple weeks when I went that day. I ran in to one of
the leads and asked him how he was doing. I found that he was mourning for the
Treasurer. The Treasurer of the non-profit had passed away over the holiday
seasons. I hadn’t seen the Treasurer in 2 weeks. He was a guy I had several
seemingly trivial conversations with but now he was gone. I would never talk
with him again. My heart sank as the weight of the reality of his death set in
on me.
That non-profit would often be identified to me as somewhat
of a burden, a task I unfortunately had to bear with little seeming evidence
that this is where the Lord wanted me to be especially since I was looking to reach
LGBT in Hillcrest. Some of the
marked memories of this place are that of a trash can full of rotting orange
juice in Recyclables that would sometimes make me want to vomit. But I knew it
helped me be a blessing to Being Alive, even though it probably only made about
$6.50 for the org. every other week. Another set of memories were etched in to
my mind after having washed out this trashcan for them. In order to wash out the
trash can, I would go into their bathroom and immediately notice the enormous
quantity of naked pictures of men plastered on the bathroom walls. This place
was one I had mixed senses that the Lord was doing something and quite
often I busily rushed out of there. But when I realized this person I had been
talking with only some short time ago passed away, my heart sunk and I felt
guilty. I felt guilty I had only shared seemingly trivial small talk with him and never got to share the love of God, exemplified in the Jesus.
There was a mix of emotions swirling around me that day but
I found a renewed urge to not waste time. I met another customer of the stinky
trash canned, pornographically ladened bathroom, North Park non-profit and had
a deeper talk with him. Honestly, I was surprised how he talked about God and
his trust in him. At this point of realization that time is short, I realized that one of the people I knew in the
Community needed a wake up call; it was the very person who sends me to get recyclables.
This person has always seemed to me to be a person of peace and a big reason I
was meant to work with Being Alive specifically. I had already known he is a
Christian but I had realized he seemed like a Lot (Genesis anybody) because
although I could tell he was a good influence in that place, he seemed
compromised. I went back to the Being Alive headquarters and began to tell him
about time being short and how I realized this more that day. We had a long and
deep discussion. Although he knew he was in compromise and he cared, I
struggled to know where to lead him and felt the message, given to me that day,
was lost. I was hoping he would finally say yes to learning more about Jesus
with me and bringing the Good News to more around him, to all those people he
was helping every day. He knew Jesus, but he didn’t seem to want to know Him
more or to give Him away. Regardless of whether he heard the message, I have.
Jesus said, “The Kingdom is near, repent and believe the
good news.” Do we believe Him? To what level are we willing to align our lives
with this truth? Time is short and are we prepared to enter that Kingdom? Have
we done all we can to reach every lost people group with the message of
repentance and the forgiveness of sins in Jesus? Time is short. Our bridegroom
is coming.
