tumbling after You

Rodeo.

His name is Rodeo.

He is a homeless man on the Drag. He can usually be found sitting on the corner of 22nd, by the scientology building. He sports a long unkempt beard, wears a dusty broad-brimmed hat, and wields two guitars.

He has been homeless for awhile now. But his life was not always like this. He was born and raised in Tennessee. And he was married at one time - had a wife of 17 years and even children. But one day 23 years ago, his wife presented him with an ultimatum: either her or the liquor store. And he replied, “Honey, I’ll visit.”

So he’s been living on the streets ever since. And now he’s stuck. He can’t get a job because his health is too weak, and the only skill he’s retained these past two decades is his guitar playing. He somehow recently made his way from Tennessee to Texas, to avoid the blistering cold Northern winters.

He admits that he has problems. Alcoholism, addiction, abuse. He can’t stay away from the bottle. But he claims it’s the only thing that numbs the pain. From the blistering sores on his back, tortured and bent from countless nights sleeping on pavement. And from his ailing lungs, which struggle to inflate with each grievous breath.

Rodeo is also a brother in Christ. He just got baptized at UBC one week ago on Easter Sunday. He was also able to share his testimony with the congregation. Written on a water-damaged composition notebook in barely legible handwriting, the first line of his story reads, “I wrote this on the third page, because the first page has been washed clean…” The rest of his story contains painful phrases such as “bad childhood” and “child abuse.” He recounts one of his earliest memories from youth, pounded into his head by the sounds of yelling parents and breaking dishes.

Last year, he was in hospital care for six months, and in a coma for three. When he woke up, he received the devastating news that his wife had passed away while he was asleep. She was taken by the same illness that had hospitalized him. He still struggles with the question why. Why did God take her and spare him, one who, in his own opinion, doesn’t even deserve to live. She was the hardworking single mother of his children And she was the beloved grandmother of his grandchildren, one of which was mentally retarded and would kick her in the ribs every night. As he recalls getting down on one knee and professing his love for her, a single tear trickles down his cheek. He wonders… Why her? Why not him?

Last Sunday, right after his baptismal ceremony, Satan struck him a hard blow. One of the more crooked guys on the Drag, known as Jethro, snatched five bucks from his hand and ran. And although to us five bucks seems hardly something to get upset about, to him it could mean whether or not he eats that night. And the incident has been bothering him all week. He feels as if Satan is punishing him for getting baptized.

One side of him remembers Jesus’ commandment to forgive others as God has forgiven us. But another side of him is angry and frustrated, prideful and vengeful, vulgar and violent. It’s frightening how easily and quickly he switches between benevolence and malevolence. There is a war being waged inside of him.

He admits that he has problems. He doubts that God could ever really cure him from alcoholism. He doesn’t think that anyone could take that away from him, except for a new woman perhaps. When I hear this, I am reminded of the parable of the rich young man, who refused to surrender the throne of his heart to Christ and went away sorrowful. He only lacked one thing…

He often longs for Christian companionship. He feels like a sheep among wolves prowling the streets. But he’s not completely alone. He’s befriended some college students from the Austin Stone. They gave him a Bible, and on the dedication page, it reads: “From Abby, Kevin, and Xander.” They’ve taken him to the 7PM service at Stone a few Sundays, and they’re trying to get him into rehab. He calls them his angels. Praise God for Christ followers who live out Matthew 25:40.

Despite the drastic difference in our lifestyles and circumstances, Rodeo and I are brothers in Christ. We have the same Father, from whom His whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. We are the same. I also struggle with the why. I also have (at least) one thing that I lack. And I also have a battle raging inside of me. Neither of us are deserving of this grace that we’ve been given, nor can either of us earn it. We are the same. But the good news is that we have both been washed white as snow by the blood of the Lamb.

I can provide him with the occasional meal or McD’s gift card. But the only thing of lasting value that you and I can offer him is prayer.

• Pray that the Gospel be clear and constantly reiterated in his heart and mind, and for his salvation to be secure.
• Pray for the anger and violence in his heart to be driven out and replaced with the peace that transcends all comprehension.
• Pray for his daily provision and for his safety on the street.
• Pray that neither alcohol, nor companionship, nor anything else in this world can make him a better offer than God already has in offering His own son for us.