As we were out Good Friday night, above the usual noise of Broadway was a loud booming voice of a man yelling at someone, but no one in particular. Like our little group each week, walking up and down Broadway, he does the same most weeks, angrily shouting at the voices in his head, the faces from his past, I don’t know. All I know is that he walks and shouts and people, including myself, just try to stay out of his way.
I rarely hear or at least remember what he yells, but always hear the hostility in his tone. Admittedly, he has become merely a dangerous, angry man to me. I lost sight of his humanity and hurt, but was jarred back into reality when I heard him shout “Every man that loved me died.”
His rants began to make more sense, and maybe these rants though directed randomly on the streets, were actually intended for the ears of God. I know He hears. All I could do was pray for this man, his pain and loss. I also found myself praying that he should know the fullness and truthfulness of his own words. Every man who loved him did die, but of those men there was One who was different. The man of Jesus Christ who loved him died. But it was not a death of abandonment, loss of love, or unanswered questions or issues taken to the grave never to be resolved, but a death for… you can fill your name in the blank or the name of your friends, family and neighbors, those who believe and those you pray to believe. Those who love us will sadly die, but only One died for us. I pray for this man that he would believe and know that he is loved and was died for. Please continue to pray with me for him and the many others who have yet to believe.