Can The World Tell?

Oct 20

By Jack Wyman

It was another booze-soaked night.

There had been plenty of them over the years. He was known as the local drunk. People snickered and whispered when they saw him stumbling down the street in his usual besotted stupor.

Others just shook their heads. Some crossed the street to avoid him. He was unshaven, unkempt, and unwashed. He stunk. A sad and despicable specimen of a life gone terribly wrong.

Joe seemed hopeless, barely existing in a run-down two-room apartment on the bad side of town. His family had long since abandoned him; he had no friends.

He did menial work to get enough to eat—but he seldom had any appetite. Booze was his diet.

This night wasn’t like the others. He wandered into the local rescue mission. It was there, on this hazy, bleak evening, that Joe was miraculously transformed by the mighty power of God. He was changed on the inside, the outside, and everything in between.

It was radical.

The man who had no hope was suddenly given abundant hope. The man who had no joy discovered overflowing gladness. The drunk who had no life worth living became the man who had a clear-headed, open-hearted and divinely-intended purpose for living.

Joe was a new man. Unrecognized by those who had known the drunk.

Joe wanted to serve God and found no better or more appropriate way than helping out at the rescue mission. What he had incredibly discovered by God’s mercy he devoutly wished for the despondent and desperate men he encountered.

Joe wasn’t a preacher. Instead, he served others—gladly, faithfully, humbly. He swept and mopped the floors of the mission. He emptied the garbage. He cleaned up the vomit of the drunks. He helped men into bed at night when they were too intoxicated to even stand up. He cleaned the bathrooms, scrubbing the toilets left filthy by careless men. If others shied away from an unpleasant task, Joe never did.

There wasn’t anything Joe wouldn’t do to assist the staff of the mission. He did it always with a smile, uncomplaining. He was patient and compassionate toward the residents, no matter who they were, or what they’d done. He never judged. Never criticized. Never ridiculed. And he never forgot what he used to be and, but for the grace of God, would still be.

Joe was kind, cheerful, and encouraging. He often told the staff how grateful he was for the chance to help out. God had done so much for him. This was the least he could do for God—and for those God loved when no one else did.

Joe became a fixture of blessing, day and night, serving at the mission where he’d found God. The men who knew him, loved and respected Joe.

Every Wednesday night the men were encouraged to attend the weekly worship service. Slowly, the room would fill with downcast, shuffling residents. They sat quietly together, yet in solitude. Most were somber. Their expressionless and worn faces spoke of a profound sadness; a kind of emotional destitution.

Occasionally, there were conversions.

One night, the director of the mission was giving his standard invitation to the men at the close of the service. Suddenly a young man, tears streaming down his face, rose and came forward. He dropped to his knees at the altar and began to pray.
“Make me like Joe!” he cried. “Make me like Joe! Make me like Joe!”
Softly sobbing, he prayed again, “Make me like Joe!”
The director smiled and gently touched the young man’s shoulder. “Son,” he told him, “I think it would be better if you prayed, ‘Make me like Jesus.’”
The young man looked up at the director, a questioning expression on his face, and asked, “Is he anything like Joe?”

When Jesus had gathered His disciples to the upper room on the night He was betrayed, He comforted and instructed them, even in those sad waning hours. John tells us that Jesus knew the time left to them was brief.

“Having loved His own,” John wrote, “He loved them to the end” (John 13:1).

Jesus never stopped loving the men to whom He would commit the beginning and the building of His church. He loved them when He was discipling them. He loved them when He was admonishing them for their lack of faith and their fleshly ambitions and rivalries. And now, He loved them as He washed their feet, and prepared to leave them.

“I have given you an example to follow. Do as I have done to you.” (John 13:15)

Not just words. A life—lived up close and personal for the last three years. Lived through every strain of heartbreak, death, loss, danger, and fear.

Jesus gave these men His love—tested, true, unchanging, and indissoluble. He gave them His words—wise, perfect and profound. He gave them His example—that they would learn to be like Him. That they would do as He did, respond as He did, decide as He did, care as He did, and serve as He did.

Jesus now gave these men “a new commandment.” They were to love each other. That love would be modeled on the love Jesus had shown them. “Just as I have loved you, love one another” (John 13:34).

His example was to be obeyed and followed. It would be a sign—the greatest sign, the transforming sign, the categorical, proof-positive sign that you and I are His true disciples. Universal, transcending, and unmistakable.

“By this,” Jesus told them, “will the whole world know you are My disciples, if you have love one for another” (John 13:35).