"Fellowship.................................."

Wednesday evening’s visit to the rescue mission has stayed with me , not so much because of any special connection with the Holy Ghost that occurred while we were there, not in so far as the men, themselves, continually drifting in and out of my thoughts ever since. I say that, well aware that an “anointing” doesn’t always have to be, in form, an overpowering awareness of His presence. Such was this night… Names come and go, depending on whether the people to whom they are attached are “settled” in this area or merely passing through: Richard is one of the regulars, but infrequent in his attendance, a local who comes solely to worship with us, his gray stubble beard the only indication of him possibly being in his forties, everything else in his appearance marking him just one of the others. He wears a dark wool winter stocking cap, a thin, black leather jacket, and a necklace that he has obviously created, himself, attaching a cord to a small pewter feather identical to a larger one he has somehow fashioned into a ring on his left hand. Before we leave, he will withdraw a little bottle of oil from an inner pocket, apply a bit of its contents to our hands and our foreheads, and pray for our ministry. I think of him as maybe being one of those “angels unaware” spoken of in Hebrews. Dante, there for an overnight vacancy, approached us afterwards also, one of those who so often wish to discuss a portion of Scripture they have discovered, many merely wishing to evangelize us as to their point of view, but he simply a soul in need of encouragement in his search for truth. We gave listen and then directed him to the journey, itself, and the Christ who wishes to accompany him in it… It doesn’t take conversation, though, for worn, weathered faces to remain with me. Most never speak at all other than responding to an initial handshake, but their eyes witness to the road already traveled: other places, other sermons, their theology formed long ago as life taught it to them in the next step. They don’t need my personal translation of the Book. They need Him, broken and shared between us. Too often I feel like I fail in remembering that……