Over the last few weeks, I’ve made more progress door-to-door in Woodbine. It’s got some character to be sure. There are some nice, even stately old homes alternating with run-down and abandoned shells. The one below had the front door completely knocked in to the ground. With poorer judgment, I could have just walked throughout the place.
I’ve encountered and visited with a number of Spanish speakers here in Woodbine. One had me inside. And not long into this first round I’ve discovered just how many African Americans there are. And their relatively openness to talk and comparative friendliness from past experience elsewhere has been mildly surprising–and definitely encouraging.
One of my most recent encounters was with “Dequan.” As I walked up to his house, he stood there, music blaring from his car. He looked late 20s, dressed in typical urban street-wear. As I introduced himself and handed him a leaflet, he very quickly got exercised and said that there was ‘no forgiveness for him–he killed a man!’ I noticed beer on his breath. Hard to say whether he was serious or not; but I had little reason to doubt him as the conversation progressed. I spoke to him of the infinite love of God in Christ who willingly died for wicked sinners like him and like me. I told him, as for his despair of pardon, that there was a great believer in the Bible who killed a man, and yet God forgave him. “Moses!” he replied. I was thinking David. (This fellow probably had a Christian upbringing, maybe even a godly mother or grandmother still praying for him. O, let us never despair of our prodigals!) So now Dequan had two witnesses of divinely pardoned murderers, and “in the mouth of two or three witnesses every word shall be established.” I was grateful that he did not brush me off for who I was, and I certainly treated him with the dignity he deserved as a human being. But, I explained to him, he and I were both in the same boat. We are helpless sinners in desperate need of mercy! I got his phone number. Then I asked if I could pray with him? He had quite calmed down by now. As I prayed for Dequan, he volunteered an arm around me. So touching, and I responded in kind as I led our poor souls to the throne of grace.
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West Port Experiment 