
Can I talk to you?
“Can I talk to you? It’s important,” said the young man who approached me with an urgent smile. It was in the Netherlands, somewhere in the autumn of 1972 and I had just stepped out of a pub. I stared at him with alcohol induced eyes. “Talk to me? Why?”
What did he want? People generally didn’t talk to me much. As a bedraggled, tired hippie that was looking for the truth in all the wrong places, I did not radiate trustworthy friendliness, and people didn’t talk to me unless they wanted something from me.
I had to admit he looked sort of friendly, but whatever it was he wanted or had to offer, I was not in the mood.
Then I saw the Bible he carried around and I understood. He was talking about God. He was converting people, and I was to be his next victim.
No way. Not me.
“Do you know God?” he asked me when he came closer. His voice was soft, and he seemed genuinely happy, but since I was not, I could not let him get too close.
I looked at him with an air of self-righteousness and scowled. Who was he to know what I needed? Had he read the Tibetan Book of the Dead, as I had? Had he studied meditation and yoga as I had? I was even highly experienced in the use of mind-altering drugs. No, this fellow would not be able to enlighten me.
“God cares about you. He is our Father,” the young man tried gently.
Enough.
“Of course I know God,” I answered rudely. “Everybody is God. We are all part of the great cosmic universe!”
He looked puzzled for a moment but then a big grin came on his face.
“I don’t know about that, friend,” he said. “You sure don’t look like God!”
What was that? Was that fellow mocking me? Clearly another one of those Christians who could not discern real spirituality. I did not look like God? How dare he say that! My pride was hurt and without further ado I stomped off in a huff, hoping to forget his haunting words.
That happened almost a lifetime ago. And I am ashamed to look back at that time.
That fellow was right. I did not look like God at all.
My face did not reflect joy. There was no peace in my heart, and like so many others, I was groping around in darkness, lost in the barren fields of this world.
That is, until God stepped in Himself and changed things around.
It was a painful operation, as He and His angels had to shoot a few holes in my pride. That’s what usually happens to people who think too highly of themselves.
But when I gave up and surrendered myself, hopeless and lost, I found Him right beside me.
I still remember it so well, and it happened a few years after my encounter with that smiling young Christian.
Now I traveled by foot through the world, hoping one day to reach India, where I would surely find the right guru with the right idea and the right answer. Clearly, I was still searching.
Alone, lost, hungry and terribly lonely.
Strangely enough, in spite of the agonizing loneliness at moments when I thought I would no longer be able to cope, I felt there was a presence with me. And at those moments, deep inside, somewhere in the basements of my heart, there was a voice. It seemed to say: “Fear Not. I am with You. Be not dismayed, for I am your God!”
God? Was God really with me? Could it be He really was a Father like that young fellow had tried to tell me years ago? That He was real, and not a vague force you could use and manipulate by using the proper laws and strategies? An actual person, a Spirit-being that cared about me?
It confused me, but I hobbled on to the next town.
And there I met another young man, just like the first one years earlier. He too had a big smile, and he too carried a Bible.
“Can I talk to you?” he asked. “Do you know that God cares? He’s our loving Father.”
That’s when I broke down and I cried.
“Please tell me more, I need God!”
He smiled, “I’m happy to.” He opened that Bible he was carrying and began…
That day I found faith.
It was over forty years ago and true to His promise, God has never left me. And all that after I mocked Him, ridiculed Him and told Him in no uncertain terms to get lost. Why would anybody be so kind after being mistreated so much?
It’s because God is God. Because He truly cares. And because He understands.
So, today I am no longer crossing the fields of this world… well, maybe I do. No longer as a confused, lost sheep that had gotten himself stuck in the brambles, but now I travel the world with my pen, writing about my heavenly Father. I am holding on to Him and He is holding on to me. We are tight, Jesus and me.
And that’s the goal, to tell meaningful stories to you, in the hope a little bit of that heavenly glow may rest on you.
Hey…can I talk to you?
It’s important!