What an odd couple they made, sitting side by side. One skinny and dark, the other slit-eyed and brown-hued. The latter had begun appearing regularly at the street feeding some weeks back and I had assumed - wrongly - that she was of foreign descent. Sometimes it's hard to identify the people who come, especially since I have seen all kinds already. I am quite hopeless at guessing too. There have been occasions when I rattle along in half broken Cantonese to someone whom I surmise is Chinese and after a while he answers me in Bahasa. Conversely I can carry on in Bahasa to a guy who will smile and answer me in Mandarin. I have learnt to shrug these embarrassing mistakes off becoz they are ever so amused at this old aunty trying to engage them in conversation using 'strange tongues'.
As it turned out, this particular woman wasn't from overseas but a true M'sian hailing from Banting. She had smiled at me as I walked in slightly early. I had taken that as an invit to sit and chat. She had an obvious skin disease; there were scabs over and dried skin peeling off from her exposed arms. I knew the 3 white longitudinal scars across her wrist pointed to suicide attempts. Apparently she wasn't a 'newbie'; as is often the norm with these people, she had 'disappeared' for a while and now re-surfaced at the street feeding again. If there's anything distinctive about this work, it's the 'reliability' these people can hold on to, that no matter how far they wander off, no matter how long they drop out of the scene, they can always return - and find a chair to sit on, a plate of curry rice to fill the stomach, a familiar song to hum along with and a message of hope to lift up a crest-fallen spirit.
I had to leave off chatting with her to do my 'duty' that day, sharing God's word. By the time they were serving lunch, I saw a familiar face seated beside her. I had bumped into this other woman last Sat on the way to the car park and seeing her condition had urged her to come back to the feeding station. She was in bad shape, literally a bag of bones. Her eyes were yellow. Twice before she had consented to be admitted into drug-rehab. Twice a brother had made appointments with her to take her to the hospital for a prelim check-up. Twice she had stood him up, and gone back to the only business she knew - selling her body for peanuts, or rather for drugs. Here she was again, back at what is probably the only place she feels comfortable in. I could only sigh as I saw the shame in her eyes.
So there they were, sitting side by side. Silently I prayed for the right words to say what I knew had to be said. It's the same story, repeated time and again in the lives of those who are unable to break out of their old ways, even though they have the desire to change, even though they know there is a God who is able to help them change. Some people seem to think it's God's job to 'straighten' the messes we make in our lives. Certainly He can and He will, but He expects us to do our part as well. Receiving and calling upon the name of Jesus doesn't mean we are instantaneously given a halo around our heads and angel wings to fly. It just means we are forgiven sinners, saved from the wrath of God because Jesus took the full brunt of it at the cross. It means we are given a chance to start all over on a clean slate, by walking through the door that Jesus has opened up for us. The problem is some of us are still stuck with our feet glued to the same spot in life. Even though we confess we want, yet we refuse or at most make half-hearted attempts to walk into the new life that God has promised and laid before us.So in our weakness, we slip and slide back into the old hole.
I asked my new fren why why she wanted to commit suicide. She laughed, shrugged her shoulders and muttered something about a boyfren from a long time ago. Tears sprung up in her eyes as she recounted how the lady who had adopted her (she never knew who her real parents were) chased her out because she was 'bad'. She had ended up at the street feeding station and met an American lady who restored some decency into her life, by praying for her, crying over her and sheltering her for awhile. But she had wandered off again. And now the American 'angel' had flown away and was no longer in M'sia; she hoped for her return. I told her there was no need to wait for anyone, for no human could save another human being. There is only so much that a fellow human can do to help another. Only Jesus could save completely. She nodded her head; she said the lady had taught her that too.
Letting that sink in, I turned to my old fren and asked why she didn't keep the appointments with the brother. She said she wanted to be absolutely sure she could 'tahan' before she goes into rehab; she didn't want to 'fail' half-way through. I understood her fear, but I also know many times we make fear an excuse for reluctance to commit ourselves, perhaps because deep inside we actually don't wanna make the effort to change ourselves and/or are unwilling for whatever reason to let God change us. It's like people who want to be sure 100% that God exists before they will believe. The only 100% sure thing on this side of earth that I know is the certainty of death. So I told my old fren she could drop dead whilst waiting to be 100% sure, that she didn't have the luxury of 'testing' the water, dangling her toes half-in, half-out, like a child checking to ensure the temperature is 'just right' before jumping into the bath-tub to be cleansed. I asked her if she believed Jesus loved her. She nodded, and I said, if that's enough for God to work on, it should be enough for her to step firmly through the door that Jesus is holding open for her.
My 2 frens aren't alone in their inability (intentional or unintentional) to move on. All of us have past baggage to contend with, and despite the desire to dump it, despite knowing it does us no good, unfortunately many still go around lugging it. We pretend, we deny, we make excuses, we even blame God after we run out of people to blame; because we don't wanna accept that it's the face in the mirror staring back at us that's to blame. Facing God means we have to face ourselves first. Ultimately the issue isn't really about our inability; it's simply whether we dare choose, dare believe and dare trust a God who says He can and He will...do the impossible in our lives. As many are those who don't choose, there are also many who have chosen. I, for one, may not have the giant faith of Abraham or Paul, but with the (little) measure of faith that God gave me, I do wilfully choose, believe and trust that as I step forth into a new day everyday, Jesus walks with me and holds my hand. And that's why I dare say He (not 'it') works perfectly - to change me. But the first step is still and always will be mine to take.
"And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord's glory, are being transformed into His image with ever-increasing glory..." - 2 Corinthians 3:18
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