NO NAME
You ever have a “random” memory pop into your head…
My first 2 weeks of training with Multiply were spent in Winnipeg, Manitoba (that’s in Canada, by-the-by). Winnipeg reminds me A LOT of Wichita; an urban oasis surrounded by wheat fields stretching for miles (kilometers) in all directions. One day we were tasked with a prayer walk through the streets of downtown Winnipeg. My group drew inspiration from a building-long mural/mosaic. We paused beside the building to pray and admire the artwork. “Randomly,” out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a man slowly pacing the adjacent sidewalk. I watched him for a few minutes; he didn’t appear to have any place to be, no direction. I felt God tug on my heart to approach him and invite him to an upcoming event at the local church.
To my surprise, I stayed with my prayer group. I did not go. I did not move. I did not react. I watched as this gentleman disappeared around the corner and out of sight.
Did I miss an opportunity????
The feeling stirred in me until I blurted out, “I gotta say something to this guy.” Verbalizing it forced me to react. I jogged to the corner where he disappeared, praying the whole time, ‘please, don’t let me miss this, don’t let me miss this, don’t let me miss this.’ I didn’t even know what I wanted to say to him. Why was this so urgent? I set foot on the cement pie piece at the corner and rounded the building. I set my gaze four, five, six store windows down the block. I picked out the flower planters, the trees, the benches, and the oncoming foot traffic (not him…not him…not him). Nothing, he’s not here. I missed it. I swiveled on my heel to return to my team and there he was; tucked quietly into a shadow of the architecture like Ethan Hunt (this one, not that one). He’s here!!
In my excitement I forced on him a question, “can I give you something?!?!?!” Startled and in a soft tone he said, “sure.” I handed him a paper invitation to the church event for this weekend and said, “you’re invited to a free cookout.” I introduced myself and asked him, “what’s your name?” He sheepishly but honestly responded, “I…I forget.” I forced a smile and returned his toothless grin with, “that’s OK, you’re invited anyway.” He chuckled and we parted, that was it. Our interaction lasted no more than a minute.
I sat in church the Sunday of the cookout and wondered if this guy would show up. I couldn’t shake the thought of going through life without knowing your own name. Maybe I startled him and he didn’t want to give out his name. I can’t blame him, I did have some adrenaline flowing after finding him against the building. Think about that for a minute. How many experiences have to fill your memory to where you can’t recall your name? Was there NO community where someone (anyone) could call this guy by name? Can you imagine being unable to answer that question? How is that possible? I was so distracted during the church service that I started coming up with names for this guy, “ah, he looks like a Jake” or “he’s a Daniel if I ever saw one” or “this guy has got to be a Marcus.” I landed on Ivan, the guy’s name was Ivan (I know, it’s weird, but that’s where the carousel stopped).
I wish I could tell you of a cheerful reunion, but I never saw him again. I desperately wanted to greet him at the cookout like we were old friends just to let him know someone on this earth knows him. Even better than that, I wanted to tell him, “your Creator knows you by name” (Isaiah 43:1). Alas, it is a story for someone else to tell.
How does God redeem a 1-minute interaction? I’m still thinking about it…
One minute reminds me that my Creator knows me by name.
One minute reminds me of the blessings of community which He has provided.
One minute reminds me to look for the marginalized.
