Tonight, I’m at the park with my kids getting some fresh air before bedtime and enjoying the last light of the day.
My daughter is happily building a “nest” with her new friend of five minutes ago, and my son (a new walker) is proudly toddling around. I’m following behind him, as parents do, when I notice a young guy sitting on the cinderblock half-wall surrounding the back side of the play area.
He looks incredibly sad. Literally like he is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Immediately I feel Holy Spirit whisper, encourage him.
I question, “with what?” and then listen.
These words drop into my heart: God always comes through.
Hmm, doesn’t seem that important. Maybe this is just me feeling bad for him.
But I can’t let it go. The nudging to go encourage him is growing stronger.
I hum and ho for a bit. I follow my son around the play equipment and talk to another dad.
I can’t let it go.
The words become clearer: God loves you. He is going to come through for you.
Okay. I’ve gotta go tell him.
Wait. He’s getting up. He’s going to push his daughter in the swing. He’s smiling now.
He’s fine.
But still, I can’t let it go.
In my gut the nudging becomes stronger. Encourage him.
My son gets the conversation going. He toddles up to the man’s daughter and they baby-talk to each other. I ask what her name is and how old she is. She’s a beautiful little girl.
Then, I do it.
“Hey, when I first saw you sitting over there I felt like God wanted me to tell you something. I felt like he wanted you to know that he loves you. And that he’s gonna come through for you.”
Phew. I did it.
I watch his response. His lower lip starts to quiver and then he starts to cry. He turns away, clearly moved by this small bit of encouragement.
He turns back after what seems like forever with tears streaming down his face and I offer to pray for him. He says yes and I pray for him right there by the swings as twilight settles in.
“Thank you,” he says to me.
And then, “Can I hug you?”
Of course we can. We hug. This stranger and me, who is now strangely a friend.
The kids play a little longer and then it’s time to head home. He’s sitting on the bench and smiles as we walk by. I say, “Good-bye” and whisper another prayer for him in my heart.
We walk home and I notice the lightness of my spirit. I hear God say, well done, and I think to myself, this is what following Jesus is all about.