From Victim to Victor

Based on a true story.

Pete, Joe and Mike openly mocked when Stan came into their hospital ward.

                “Hey, Doug,” Joe called. “Yer old man is here. Do you think he’s gonna preach a sermon today?”

                Doug glowered towards the door, but dropped his eyes when Stan appeared.

                He muttered a few curses but managed to add “Hi, Dad,” when the tall, thin man sat down stiffly beside him.

                Doug sighed inwardly: another hour of enduring his father’s obvious discomfort with how his fellow Aids patients acted up. He knew without a doubt their actions were more unnatural, their language filthier when he came around.

                Doug sighed, again.  Why couldn’t he just bug off?  Just because I’m his son and dying of this creepy disease is no reason for him to stick around.

                “You, okay, son?”

                “Same as usual: no better, no worse,” he lied, although he knew perfectly well his life was ebbing out of him.

                “Is there anything I can do to help?” Stan sat with his hands tightly folded on his lap and Doug, as well as several others took note of the look of revulsion on his features.

Ya, Doug thought, just once you can get that awful nauseated look off your face and treat me like a human.

  What he didn’t know, however, was how desperately Stan was praying for compassion, for understanding towards these people.

                But one day Stan was different. He was still quiet and dignified, but he spoke to them with respect, and by name! He ever shook their hands when he greeted them.  The assortment of men viewed him with wary surprise.

                Stan continued to visit his son on a daily basis, and the men sensed that Stan was different, that he really did care about them. First one then another responded to the obvious love they felt from him, and some even started unburdening their hearts.

                It was a happy day when Doug, who had always been a wayward boy, broke down and confessed a fear of dying.

                “Dad,” he wept, “I need Jesus, but I’m so afraid He won’t accept me because I have sinned so badly."

                While the others listened in, Stan convinced his son that it was for people such as Doug that Jesus had laid down His life.

                Doug made such a complete change, and was so obviously at peace with God and man after he confessed his sins, that no one tried to dissuade him.  It was considered unusual how peacefully he died under the circumstances.

                Both the hospital staff and the patients were deeply impressed with the caring Stan showed, but Jesus helped him.

Wallflowers and Fish

Ever heard reference to wallflowers?  They are fragrant flower that blooms in spring, but are quite inconspicuous.

Not to insult the Andrew in the Bible, whose name means ‘manly’ or anyone else for that matter but he reminds me of a wallflower, in a good way.

Andrew caught my attention because he went about doing good in a quiet, unobtrusive way. He was one of the in group, one of the chosen ones to be one of Jesus’ closest disciples. But did he let it go to his head, did he juggle for a position of honor like some of the others that were even closer did? No, and I repeat, he just quietly went about doing good.

We hear so much about the little boy who brought his lunch to Jesus, but who sought him out? Andrew. Now Andrew couldn’t have been a loud, aggressive sort, I don’t think, but a kind, fatherly type. Why do I think this? Because he searched among the masses until he saw a boy with a small lunch, a poor lunch and the boy wasn’t afraid to share his humble offering of dry, coarse bread and a couple fish with Andrew. Perhaps he knew Andrew from before. Perhaps his father was also a fisherman. Nevertheless this little lad trusted Andrew; trusted him not to make fun of his ‘inferior gift’ and gave him the courage to make his way through the huge crowd to talk to the highly respected teacher.

Now Andrew’ own insecurities came to the forefront when he said ‘what are they among so many?’ but he have a quiet, humble trust in Jesus…so Jesus did the rest.

We don’t have to be great important people. Maybe we can be a little more like Andrew and help others, I’m thinking mainly of lending a helping hand to children now, but it could apply to anyone.

Is there someone we can encourage to bring their ‘five barley loaves and two small fishes to Jesus?”