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HOW
FAR
does a little love go?
By
Angelina Leigh
In
November 2003 I was in Finland, fundraising door to door and
shop to shop for a youth camp I was to co-host a few months
later, when I met Tino in an old dingy bar. Past middle age,
with a long scraggly beard and a bit overweight, Tino looked
up from his newspaper when the door banged closed behind me
as I entered.
He owned the bar, as it turned
out, and he had no customers at the time. Perfect,
I thought, as I began to present my volunteer work. But by
the time I had turned a couple of pages in my presentation
album, Tino politely said that if I was
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there
to sell anything, he was very low on money and wasn't interested.
"I'm going through heavy depression.
My doctor says that sitting in the glow from this thing is supposed
to help," he said, pointing to a neon light behind the
bar. "Several of my friends have died recently, all from
alcohol. No one seemed to care when they passed on. Now I feel
like I could be next, and I fear that it will be the same for
me. Will anyone really care?"
He went on to tell me at length
about his problems—his excessive drinking and not being
able to sleep at night without drinking a bottle of hard liquor
first, his massive debts, and worst of all, his depression.
When I asked him if he believed in Jesus, he answered, "I'm
not sure."
Jesus, make me a channel of
Your love and answers to this lost and weary soul, I silently
prayed. Then I told Tino about how Jesus could light up his
life. "He is the answer to all of your problems,"
I said. "The Bible says that He is a very present help
in time of trouble—any trouble." We talked for over
an hour. My heart ached and my eyes filled with tears as I put
myself in the position of this poor, desperate man and considered
what it was like for him, not knowing Jesus' unconditional love
or the peace He brings.
"Do you say these things
to everyone you meet?" he asked at one point.
"No," I answered, "but
I do pray every time I talk deeply with someone. I pray that
the words that come out of my mouth will be Jesus' words—what
He has to say to that person."
By now Tino's eyes were brimming
with tears too, and I knew that Jesus was speaking to his heart,
bringing a ray of light into his dark, gloomy world.
I told him about how Jesus answers
prayer, and about some of the miracles He had done for me, including
how He had recently healed my foot. I had been in excruciating
pain after an accident, but had needed to take a train to Finland
in two days, with lots of luggage, and at the time I couldn't
even put my shoe on. I had prayed desperately for the Lord to
heal my foot, and within minutes I could walk almost normally.
By the end of that day I had been able to put my shoe on. I
had made it to Finland on schedule, and here I was! |
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Tino
showed me his hands, which I hadn't noticed before. They were
dry and scaly, an allergic reaction to the coins he handled
day after day, he explained. I held his hands and prayed for
Jesus to heal them, for his bank loan to come through so he
wouldn't lose his bar, and that Tino would come to accept Him
into his heart. When I finished praying and we opened our eyes,
he was in tears and couldn't speak for a while. He tremblingly
wrote out his address for me, and I |
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A
PRAYER FOR THE DAY
Thank
You, Jesus, that You can work even through me. Although
many people feel they don't need Your love or don't
want to accept Your existence, You've called me out
of that darkness and given me not only the opportunity
to know Your love in a very real and amazing way, but
also the privilege of sharing that love with others
who need You. Help me to not selfishly keep Your light
and love to myself, but to give it freely, as You have
freely given it to me. Amen.
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gave him some Activated mags that I knew would boost
his faith. As I got up to leave and he asked if he could give
me a hug, I knew I hadn't wasted the last hour and a half.
Two years later I went to Finland
again, and I made sure to visit Tino. The Lord had worked things
out wonderfully, but differently than either of us had expected.
He had lost his bar, so had taken a job as a bartender in someone
else's. "It was for the best," he said, and it was
clear that he really meant it. He was happy and talkative and
looked like a new man. "Now I have so much less to worry
about and so much more time to enjoy life and spend with my
wife and children," he said, all smiles. His hands weren't
completely healed—there were still a couple of small dry
spots—but his spirit had been healed, and that had been
what he needed most. He certainly wasn't the same depressed,
sullen man I'd met two years earlier. A little love—God's
love—had changed his life. |
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