Mary

“Now as He drew near, He saw the city and wept over it, saying, ‘If you had known, even you, especially in this your day, the things that make for your peace!’” Luke 19:41-42

“Hey, all of you, you can just burn in ****ing hell!” Slight pause, “and you keep your ****ing hands off of my a**!” If this language has startled you a little, well, this is the world that Mary lives in. This is what I heard Mary yelling today on my walk. I thought long and hard about putting this on paper, but this is Mary’s reality. Mary is a woman that I see frequently hanging out along the Sacramento River trails, who apparently lives up in the hills somewhere. I know she lives up in the hills because I have seen her heading up through the trees and I hear her up there somewhere hollering out from time to time. I’ve never formally met Mary, and I don’t really know her name, but she is a woman who has stolen a place in my heart and I feel a burden for her. I gave her the name Mary so that I can have a name to lift up to our heavenly Father when I pray for her.

The first time I saw Mary shuffling towards me, I could tell she was homeless, and I guessed her to be in her 50’s. One day as she approached, I felt compelled to say “hello” to her as we passed on the trail.  I wanted her to know that I valued her as a human being, a fellow neighbor worthy of acknowledging. She looked up at me, startled, bright blue eyes staring at me, but she replied “hello” in return. As I looked at her face full-on for the first time, I saw that she was really much younger than I first thought. From that moment on, every time I saw Mary I gave her a cheery “hello” when I passed. She always responded with a “hello” in return.

This last time I saw her and said “hello” as we passed, she didn’t even look up, but she did reply with a faint “hello.” I guess she must have seen me coming from a distance and was prepared for my greeting. What really disturbed me was that she didn’t even look up this time, but continued in her slow, dejected looking shuffle, head downcast. A deep sadness gripped me as I thought how Mary looked—like the life was fading right out of her. I began to weep for Mary, and I wanted to run back after her, to embrace her in my arms and take her home with me. I wanted to put her in a warm bath with nourishing oils and scents to wash away all the grime, shampoo her hair with a luxurious soap and clothe her small, slender body in a clean, fresh outfit. Then I wanted to take her to an expensive restaurant and treat her to a lavish feast! My heart ached with the desire to make everything better for Mary, to show her that life can be good!

Then it hit me–this is how our heavenly Father views humanity. How He sees dejected, dirty, grimy people who have no hope for themselves or their future, lost in their sin—and how He aches to take us and embrace us and make us clean and whole, and show us the hope of a bright future. I don’t know if I’ll get the chance to minister to Mary, but I’m open if the Lord leads. I really want to help her, but she just might tell me to “go and burn in ****ing hell.” This wouldn’t bother me too much; what would bother me more would be if she wouldn’t accept any help from me. And again, I thought of our Savior and how deeply it must grieve Him when people reject His plea to help them.

Lord, thank You so much for your saving grace, that I can never repay. I can, however, remain open to helping those whom You put across my path. Help me to always be ready for Your divine appointments.