Who Is This Man


Holding Hands shadow on sand

I heard one day a man conversing with another that when you are in a situation you feel you can’t get out of all you have to do is call upon his name. Who’s name? Who is this man you were speaking of?

I am sitting here on this park bench watching people walk by. Some are holding hands. Others I see are walking with minds far a way. Kids running and skipping. Bikes whizzing by.

No one stops near me. No one cares do they? Does this man care about me? I really doubt it. I have not been a good person. I fell off the way side years ago. I don’t think this person I heard them talk about would want to bother with me.

You see I laid my life aside to have what my body craved. I chose the bottle over my own wife and kids. I knew it was wrong but I couldn’t help myself. It called to me, the pull of pouring one more drink down my gullet was the driving factor for which I traded places with commitments for desires.

A man with such authority and power surely doesn’t touch the likes of me. My life is void. I was found in a gutter one day by a man in a uniform. I was taken in and placed behind metal bars. When I was finally released by my own empty promises that I would get help, I walked into an empty frame that was once my home.

The kids toys were no longer on the floor. The smell of my wife’s perfume had vanished. All I could inhale of memories reminding me that I once lived here was my two suitcases standing tall by the living room door.

They had left me. The woman I had fallen in love with during my college days had no more hope to cling to. She had taken my two precious babies and ran. I can still remember the days of yesterday. I bowed and kissed my wife’s brow. Resting in her arms were two precious lives that I had helped create. I felt more love in me at that moment than I had every experienced my entire life.

Now that I stood here hearing my children’s voices echoing in my mind I lay down and wept. I had screwed up. I had become what the town called the “town drunk.” Was this really me? Had I let that first drink turn into another? How could one person make such a mess of his own life with only the help of one lonely  bottle?

I stood and walked through the empty house, reaching out and touching where picture frames once hung. I could see where the Christmas Tree had sat so many times. Walking up the stairs, the same path as my children ran day after day, now holding only ghosts who stand back and wickedly laugh at me.

I stand in the door way of the room of my wife. I can see her walking towards me with tears in her eyes as I came home one more time too late. I always promised her I would never do it again and she would comfort me with kisses and I would wipe her tears with my lips.

Movie clips running through my mind of the times when we came together in this room. Promising to love no other, I had broken the golden rule and had become a slave to another. I walked back down the stairs running my hands on the rail. Trying to touch any remnants of my children that may still be lingering.

I opened the front door and picked up my two bags and I looked back once again hoping that I am only having a bad dream. But alas, no one answers. No one looks my way. I close the door behind me and I walk to the park.

Who is this man who you were speaking of? Can he talk to me too? For I am empty in heart and my mind is cracked. I need help. I bury my head in my hands and I try to cry only unto myself. The tears flow and my body is shaking. I can not stop it for it feels as though I am losing all control over my own thoughts and feelings.

A gentle hand is touching my shoulder. I look up and over my quivering fingers. My eyes covered with mist look into the eyes of the one man I heard speaking. He sits down beside me and I find myself being coddled by him.

I look up into his face and I ask, “Who is the man who I over heard you talking about to your friend? Do you think you could ask him to help me too? I have messed up my life so bad. I have lost my wife and my kids. I have nothing now but these two suitcases. Do you think he can help me? Can you take me to him?”

This kind stranger stands up and takes one suitcase in his hand. I pick up the other one. He takes a step forward asking me to follow. I do not ask questions but do as he requests. In but a few short minutes I find myself kneeling with this man beside a long bench.

I look at him with his kind eyes and he gazes up towards the colorful big window. I follow his gaze and there I find the most beautiful window I have ever seen. There is a man standing in the middle. He has a staff he is holding. He has a halo surrounding his hair. Dressed in a white garment and leather sandals I feel a hint of peace come over me.

The man looks back at me and with the most gentle voice speaks, “Here is the man who can help you. All you have to do is ask. His name is Jesus Christ. He wants to help you.” I bring my hands together and the man places his hands over mine. At this moment, at this precise second, I am about to change my entire life by only asking.

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