It’s official. I can now say that I have met Michael Jordan. I had no idea that things had gotten so tough
for him, but he is an elderly black man who lives in a flop house on the south
side of Memphis. I have to confess that
I don’t truly believe that the man whom I had the gift of meeting today was in
fact THE Michael Jordan. But that is the
name he gave me as I was giving him a ride home today, so that is what I will
call him until he trusts me enough to tell me his real name.
I met Michael at a
service station not far from the seminary when I stopped on my way to class to
get my afternoon Diet Mountain Dew fix.
He was in the parking lot as I got out of my car, and was asking passersby
for a little bit of food to eat. He
smelled of alcohol. His eyes were
red. His clothes were ill-fitting and
torn, and he had an unlit Kool Menthol hanging from between his lips. He was carrying a backpack that had only God
knows what in it and was holding it as dearly as a parent would hold a child. And I found myself hoping that he wouldn't get around to speaking to me between my exiting the car and entering the
store. And worse, I had been on the
phone with my older brother Rick talking about JUST such a scenario just 15
minutes earlier! And I mean that
literally. (God’s timing is impeccable, isn't it?) Needless to say I wasn't quick enough. Michael caught me dead to
rights. “Hey man, could you help me get
a little food?” DANG!
I had to get to
class. I haven’t got the money to do
this. I had at least 15 good and
reasonable excuses for NOT helping Michael, and only one reason FOR helping…
the conviction of the Spirit. So I told
him I would be right back with some food.
I grudgingly went in and purchased a sandwich, drink, and chips. I even added a banana so that at least I
could say I got him something healthy. I
was doing my duty as a Christian, and a pastor even if there was no “joyful
giving” going on. In a rush, I sped back
out the door looking for Michael and I couldn't see him. “WHAT!? I’m trying to help you out and you don’t have
the decency to wait?” Then I finally
saw Michael off to the side of the parking lot with a middle aged man cursing
and cussing him for all he was worth.
Michael had made the mistake of asking the man for a light for his cigarette.
My heart was broken and
then I began to get angry. I have never
witnessed such a purely vicious attack against someone who is obviously in need
of help. And in my rising anger, I was
struck by a sudden realization… in my heart I had thought (less the language)
the same things about Michael. I had
seen a wreck where a man had stood asking for my help. I had seen a nuisance where God had created
opportunity for ministry. I had all but
shouted “you’re not worth my effort” in my aggravation for being bothered by
Michael. I was broken in that moment. And I was ashamed…
Michael thanked me for
the food as I handed it to him… then cautiously asked if I could take him “to
where I stay at”. It was in south
Memphis. WAY on the other side of town
and the tracks. On the ride he told me
his name was Michael Jordan, like the basketball player. He asked my name and what I did for a
living. Then he asked if he could pray
for me. His prayer was simple… “Gawd,
thank you for this man who really knows you.
Wash over him. Amen.”
I think he may have
meant to say, “watch” but I think wash fits just perfectly. And God truly did wash over me in that
moment. Though internally I knew that I
had tried to deny knowing God in an effort to keep my schedule intact, I was
reminded how much I want to know Jesus more intimately. Oddly enough, knowing Jesus more intimately both begins with and leads to getting to know the "Michael"s of the world better. I was renewed by this unwanted, chance
meeting with a man that I tried to sneak past in a parking lot. And I received such a blessing from that prayer
that I want to offer it over you with a slight modification if I can.
“God, thank you for
these people who want to really know you.
Wash over them. Amen.”
Your Servant in Christ,
Bro. Chris
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