“Yesterday I saw Jesus.” I told my friend.
I wouldn’t lie about such a thing. That would be sacrilegious.
But I did see Him. I don’t blame my friend for wondering.
Everyday I hear people say, “Jesus told me this or that” We all wonder “Really?” “Audibly?”
Christians say the funniest things.
But I think we have all concluded they just had an idea and attributed it to a “spiritual event.” A voice!
We can be so hyper-nerdy…quasi-spiritual…it leaves others in the dust…So “spiritual.”
Why should he have believed me? We normally don’t believe each other when we say these things.
But I did see Him. Others may exaggerate or embellish but I know what I saw.
I was at a table surrounding by dirt, people of the street. Toothless, with hair like a bad thrift store wig, mushed hats and soiled frumpy jeans, real caricatures of human beings. Many were overweight, incapable of recovery barring the gift of a famine. What kind of poverty is this?
The boss, yelled in my distracted mind “Cliff, Do you speak Spanish?” I looked up noticing a short Hispanic next to El Hefe. I got up at his command.
I introduced myself to the Mexican at El Hefes order.
A 5’6’’ smiling browny, the foreigner looked timidly to me a 6’, 200lb Anglo structure.
He was here to work. He had no friend or family and no work from his previous attempt down south. It is hard. No work in Mexico and less and less here. Only a few years ago it cost a mere $1,000 to cross the border but now the coyote demands $10,000.
In Washington it is still pretty cold in March. There is snow today.
He had no one, no home, he asked if I knew where he could lodge.
“Si.” I responded, “Mi Casa.”
The boss struck out, “He can go to the shelter.”
With a sardonic smile, I started off. “I’m a Christian. He comes home with me.” El Hefe slammed back in defense, “I do not have room.”
I think I’ve heard that before “No Room in the Inn.”
I quipped “It only takes a three by eight foot section in your house and this one is kind of small.”
I withdrew my assailment with my eyes not to pressure El Hefe any longer; I had, had my fun.
Yes, I saw Jesus. Do you see Him?
Do not feel bad, El Cojon didn’t either.
By the way my brown, short, Mexican had a name. Really!
As fate would have it. His name was “Jesus,” with a pure Mexican accent. Jesus!
“When we have not done it to the least of these we have not done unto Him.”
Open your eyes…He is everywhere.
I see Jesus.