We picked up a young man at one of the local sober living facilities because he wanted to attend our Sunday Morning Breakfast and Bible Study. Choosing to sit with me while we were eating, he begins to tell me his story. He is intense as he tells me about all the wounding and abuse, he has suffered at the hands of Christians in the name of religious practices. He says, “I hate all things, Christian.”
I have to laugh a little since he asked us to pick him up so he could attend this Bible Study. At the same time, I’m sad because I’ve heard a similar story from many of the people who come to this group. It’s difficult because I know that I’ve been part of the system that has caused the perceived pain.
My heart is broken for him. I wonder how to draw him back to the central truth of Jesus’s love for him. The desperate need for love and understanding pours out of him; his eyes are darting from person to person, jumping up to hug the people he knows from other places, his voice getting louder, drawing attention to himself. He’s passed his thirty-days clean and sober, but still struggles. I’ve watched this process over and over the past few years. Some make it to the other side — others don’t. I’m praying that he will.
He continues with this story. He is adopted from a foreign country. He struggles with ADHD and Attachment Disorder. He is classically angry with his adoptive mom. I have a weird sense of connection with him. I suppose it’s because I’ve lived through the love/hate relationship with my adoptive son created by early childhood trauma. I find myself genuinely enjoying this young man.
All of a sudden, he says, “I like the people here because they are real and care about others.”
That was the promising start to this story. Unfortunately, this young man couldn’t stay clean and sober, which means he was kicked out of his sober living home. Generally, we lose touch with people when this happens, and he is no exception. We did get a few text messages and a couple of voicemails, but we only saw him one more time. This past week, one of the other members of our group called to tell us that this young man had died at a party.
I find myself grieving the loss of this funny but troubled guy. I wish I could have done more for him. I wish I could say that he resolved his issues with Christ and his family, but I honestly don’t know — and that is frustrating. I’m wondering why God brought him into our lives for him to die so young. It’s strange because I don’t normally ask God why, but right now I just can’t help myself.
As a group, we are trying to process what has happened. Several people comment that this could have been them, others are sensing a need to reach out to people that they know so maybe, just maybe, they won’t end up dead. It’s hard.
That’s when I begin to see God in this mess. There is a renewed sense of urgency to touch the lives of others who share much of this young man’s story – angry with Christians, but desperately searching for God’s unconditional love that we have to offer through Jesus. I don’t want another soul to be lost because I appear to be representing Jesus as judgmental and angry. I want to live a sacrificial life that is vulnerable, considerate, and loving – allowing others to see Jesus through me. How about you? What is one thing you could do differently today?