A man attempts evangelism without proper training, although he messes it up, she finds God.
My church was a growing evangelical church. We recently extended the sanctuary and added more classrooms and offices. Last January I was inducted as a deacon in training. The second Monday in April there was a meeting for the deacons, which I was unable to attend since my job had taken me out of town. The pastor had warned me and even preached about it. It is the Presbyterian way. They elected as chair to the committee to improve the grounds surrounding the church.
The recent improvements to the building left the grounds in terrible shape. Everyone knew there was a lot of work to do, but no one knew just how to tackle such a large project. To hire professionals would deplete our funds leaving us with little or nothing for mercy help. We were discussing the problem one evening when Jeanie interrupted and explained she knew some people who we have helped in the past. Most of them wanted to repay us for the generosity we had shown them.
Jeanie was a woman in her thirties who’s had a rough life. She was not an attractive woman. She was very over weight with long black hair that straggled to her shoulders. Her face had pockmarks from a bad case of acne in her teenage years. Her hands were knobby from the arthritis that had beseeched her from a young girl. She had exuberant personality and the voice of a songbird in the early morning. She came in looking for rent money several months ago, and after everyone heard her speak; we all knew the search for a new receptionist was over. By hiring her, it freed the office personal to achieve their ever-expanding jobs.
I got to know her one day in February when a sales representative came in wanting to sell something to the Church. He seemed cold to her and almost disgusted by her appearance. As he was leaving, I overheard a comment to his companion regarding her looks. My first instinct was to go after him, but something drew me back to Jeanie. Her usual cheerful face was drawn and sterile. I did not know what to say but felt the urge to say something. As I approached her, I remembered saying to myself “God help me.”
I started, “Hi,” followed by a generic, “How are you?”
Jeanie tried to hide her frustrations from the rude man appeared distraught and said, “Great.”
Showing concern I repeated, “How are you!”
Years of tormented tears started flowing from her eyes as she sobbed, “You don’t really care so why you bothering me?” She tried to get up a run away, but her considerable size and emotional instability kept her in her chair.
“Maybe I don’t care, but God does” was my earnest reply.
With this comment, she seemed a little more open to my intrusion. “People all my life treated me like that. Those who take the time to know me, like me. I am a nice person,” she pronounced.
“What did he say?”
“It wasn’t what he said, it was the look of disgust as he talked to me.”
I did not know what to say in the moment. “I am at the church for a meeting and it is starting. If you stick around, I will talk about it.” After the meeting, she was gone. I was uncomfortable forcing my viewpoint on her, and did not mention it again.
The second Saturday in May was sunny and bright. Jeanie was instrumental in gathering about twenty people to help with the transformation of the grounds surrounding the newly renovated building. Rick, one of the helpers, was a friend of Jeanie who we helped last September. He was injured and was unable to work. For the past six years, he had worked as a landscaper. He got a worker’s compensation in October but needed money to pay rent in September. He had two years of college and used the compensation money to finish his education. Due to his back injury, he couldn’t help manually but was very knowledgeable on what we were trying to accomplish that morning.
It was about 11:00 and was tiring. I sought a break from the rigors of the morning. Jeanie had shown and was sitting with her friend Rick. I went over and bummed a cigarette. I explained to Jeanie, six months ago, I stopped smoking, but every now and then, I like to steal a cigarette to dull the edge.
As I lit the cigarette, Rick asked Jeanie what she is going to do about the cancer. Jeanie joked, “Die.” There were several bad puns about dying and naturally, I joined with my own bad joke. “Why not have a smoker’s funeral. We can put an ashtray on your stomach and everyone can snub out his or her butts as they pass. Maybe we can mount the ashtrays on the corner of the coffin as they do in pool-halls.”
This was the second time Jeanie started crying in front of me. “I don’t want to die” came out clearly and distinctly through the tears.
“You don’t have to” I explained. “You can live forever with God.”
“How do I find God,” she queried through several tears.
“I do not know, but Jesus does, asked him.”
“Where do I find Jesus?”
“You do not, He finds you.”
“Will Jesus save my life?”
“He will save your soul, talk to Him.”
“What if I don’t die and he abandons me like everyone else.”
“He will never abandon you, but you may abandon Him. They call it foxhole conversion but He knows your heart. He knows if you are sincere or just scared of dying. It is already written whether you survive or die from the cancer. The question remains do you want to go alone or with Jesus.”
“What is it to you,” Jeanie demanded as the tears of fear turned to anger.
“You have already accused me of not caring, I just stopped by for a cigarette. Its funny, usually I do not get the urge to smoke when exercising. Maybe God gave me the urge. This way I had to come over and talk with you, to be with you in this place and time. Even if I do not care, God does!”
As our conversation progressed, Jeanie became more and more challenging. She no longer concerned her self with living and dieing but the care for her soul. I have not taken evangelism training and figured all I did was piss her off. I thanked her for her cigarette and left her in this foul mood. I remembered thinking to myself that not only did I screw up her and God, she will probably quit now and we will require a new receptionist. I finished the yard work with a heavy heart thinking I made a total mess out of Jeanie.
After Church the following day, the Pastor stopped me and asked what I said to Jeanie. I was expecting him to chastise me for making her upset in her cancer ridden state. I pulled the pastor into a nearby room and excused my behavior. “I am sorry for making her angry and I understand if she quit because it was none of my business and I should have stayed out of it and I know I should have left it to the Elders but in the moment I became carried away,” I said in one long run-on sentence.
The pastor had a strange look on his face and asked what I was saying.
“She was so upset when I left her yesterday and I figured she quit because of my intrusion into her personal life.”
The pastor with a wide grin explained, “She was in the sanctuary when I found her. Jeanie was trying to find the words to speak with Jesus. I prayed with Jeanie and she found Jesus. She was saved yesterday. She wants to thank you for your help.”
“I did not do anything but piss her off,” was my explanation.
I suppose there comes a time when any one of us must come to terms with a dire situation. Your story shows the impact our words have, whether to discourage or inspire.
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