Saturday, December 4, 2010
The Greek man....
Steve, the Greek man.
There's a 80+ year old greek man that has been working on my house (I just rent but he's scraping/re-painting the entire place). He's so old that his back is hunched over....I mean, people who walk by the house look shocked... I've had neighbors come up and ask if he's still alive. When he showed up to assess the house, I figured he'd have his young Greek son's out here doing the work. No, he showed up and has been working everyday except Sunday's for a while now. He mumbles his words and smiles at me when I have to ask him questions six times in a row to figure out what he's saying. He likes Bella, thinks she's funny... he smiles biggest for her. I like to watch him because he works so hard. I often wonder what he thinks about, what's his story...is he working round the clock to fill a void?... Well, I found out.
One of his workers (a "nice black man" who looks as though he is barely making ends meet), shared with me the story of the Greek man. First, let me say that these men literally live at my house from 7:30am to 6pm. They come inside sometimes for things and I try to always have something baked for them.... I feel like no one gives them treats. Neither has much family. They get really excited when I offer them dessert... I mean, they just can't believe it ... makes me sad. I hate when something so meager that I do is something so big to someone else. Makes me want to just give them more things.
The "nice man" worker first found out that my husband is a chaplain and told me he's been saved since he was seven.... he then quickly qualified that he has not lived a perfect life (as if I were a priest). I gently explained that only one person ever lived a perfect life, Jesus. I then followed up with the fact that I got kicked out of my father's school as a child and he thought that was hysterical. He shared some of his life, and struggles. The sad part was ... I had already judged who this man was before he told me his story... terrible, I know. After talking about the Bible and sin... he told me with ernest frustration, that the greek man was an atheist. In fact, that he HATED when the name Jesus was mentioned. The worker said that the man would say such terrible things about God that he often times wanted to quit working for him... but it was his only income. He looked at me and said, "he's (the Greek man) going to hell". I was so taken back by his look of concern.... I told him we all were going to hell before the Lord showed mercy on our souls. I talked about how God doesn't give up on people, to which he replied... I don't think it's possible, I'm serious. He then told me one day he was so mad at the greek man that he prayed the Lord would take something from him, to show him his need for God. He then said soon after that the greek man's wife died... the only thing he ever really loved. Oh the sadness. It's like the "nice man" felt guilty for having those thoughts, for desiring (maybe selfishly, maybe not) that the greek man know God.
So, everyday... I pray for this Greek man. That God would perform a miracle in his soul. God can do it. He did it for the sinner on the cross. He can do it for him... He can do it for you.