I Gave Jesus a Ride Home Yesterday

I gave Jesus a ride home yesterday. Oddly enough, he lives in Litchfield, Illinois.
He came to the door of the St. Paul UCC Church Office. Actually, I noticed him when he walked by the door as though looking for somewhere or something else, then came back to the door. At first appearance he was wearing a thin tee-shirt, jeans which were spattered with something, those hospital non-skid socks in institutional gray, and flip-flops. He also had hospital wristbands on each wrist. Ringing the bell at the door to the office, he turned his face towards the Conference Room where I was sitting in conversation with a couple of other people and it was then that I also saw his black-eye and bent nose. Clearly this man had been in a brawl at one time or another and was now here at the church needing something.
Not sure of his circumstance and feeling a need to shield our staff from Lord knows what (no pun intended), I went to the door and opened it to him, inviting him in and asking him his name. (I will not share his name here to protect his identity, but let's just call him 'Jesus') Jesus told me his name and then I asked about his hospital bracelets. So it was that Jesus told me his story:
It seems that on Saturday evening Jesus and his wife were home watching television when, suddenly, there was a commotion on their front porch and a pounding on their door. Jesus got up from his chair, went to the front door and opened it only to be met by the fist of a man who was in a drug-induced craze. "He was out of his mind", Jesus said, "and was beatin' everythin' and everyone in his way . . . and, I was jist the one at the door." "Turns out", Jesus continued, "that he had already beaten his uncle nearly to death before gettin' to me." "It was scary, but the po-lice came and got him in cuffs and took him away . . . or so I was told. I don't really remember much since I was knocked out from being hit and what I do remember is pretty hazy. I've got a concussion."
I inquired, "You've got a concussion?"
Jesus continued, "Yeah, that's what they tell me and that's why I was in the hospital. They airlifted me from my home to a hospital in St. Louis because they were afraid I was bleeding in the brain. They done enough tests now to think I'm okay and this morning they turned me loose about 6 or 7 o'clock."
Thinking this a pretty odd story because, really, what kind of a hospital receives a patient airlifted in with a concussion, diagnoses them, pronounces them 'Okay enough to be sent home with a concussion', then turns them out on the street with prescriptions to fill, but with no-one to receive them? Really? I asked him which hospital it was, but he didn't know. So, I asked for some sort of identification. Jesus didn't have anything in any of his blood-spattered pockets (Remember I said earlier his jeans were spattered with something? It was blood, his blood from  being hit.), except . . . except the 'Welcome' folder from the hospital with his prescriptions inside. There on the outside of the folder was the name, "St. Louis University Hospital". So, now we know who turns the beaten man away with no ride home.
Unemployed, probably uninsured (I never asked, simply because it wasn't my business), disabled by a construction accident some years earlier when he fell off a three story home, Jesus was turned out on the streets of St. Louis to figure out in his foggy state how to get home to Litchfield.
As it turns out, Jesus' wife has her own health issues as she battles her second round of cancer and the effects of treatments. She wasn't answering her telephone . . . I tried her number and left a message that Jesus was in our office where someone could pick him up. Then I asked him how he got here. Seems someone had told him to go to the Metro-Link station and get a ride to Illinois and he had managed his way to the Metro-Link station where someone had given him enough money to purchase a ticket which would take him to Illinois. Thank God for good Samaritans along the way! Yet, the Metro-Link only took him as far as Scott Air-Force Base. It seems that once Jesus was at the SAFB station, he was able to convince the driver of one of the Metro buses to give him a lift to Lebanon, where he would at least be on Route 4 and might get a ride North. From the Lebanon bus stop, he went to the Police Station and explained his circumstance and they told him . . . this clearly concussion affected man who was speaking and remembering with no little difficulty, with a black eye, broken nose, a thin tee-shirt on a cool morning, blood spattered pants, hospital bracelets on each wrist, and hospital sock covered feet in flip-flops . . . they told him to walk to St. Paul where he might be able to get some help. Hmmmm.
So it was that Jesus was in the St. Paul Church Office, looking for help to get to Litchfield, to get home to his wife for whom he was worried because she wasn't answering the telephone. I looked at our Office Manager and said, "Well, I was planning to drive to Litchfield sometime this week anyway to visit an old friend in need, there's no reason it can't be today." So, Jesus and I got in the church car and headed North towards his home.
Along the way, Jesus told me he had grown up in the Mississippi bayou, near Biloxi. Since he didn't have much education, he had worked as a laborer nearly all his life . . . well, up until the time he fell off the three story roof and hurt his back.
I asked him what brought him to Litchfield. Jesus looked at me with a twinkle in his dark brown eyes and said, "Well, I came here on a job - and stayed here because of a woman. Isn't that jist the way it goes?" We both laughed a man's laugh at such a thought. Later, driving into Litchfield toward his home, Jesus pointed out the building that had once been the tavern where he had met his wife. "She's a good woman, a hard working woman. Had a job all her life and raised her kids mostly by herself 'til I came along, then we did it together. Been nearly 25 years now. I got kids of my own in another state, but I ain't seen 'em much. Love 'em, just ain't seen 'em much."
I thought, "Isn't that the way things sometimes go for the laborers on the road?", but I didn't say anything. I just kept following Jesus' directions to his house.
Turning into his driveway, there were two men standing outside his modest single story frame home waiting for him. (His wife had called the Church Office after we left and our Office Manager told her we would be there soon.) Between the three of them there were about 16 teeth, but all of their teeth were visible because they were smiling so much to be back together. Jesus was home.
Before Jesus got out of my car he shook my hand and asked if I wanted to come in and meet his wife and have a cup of coffee. I declined the opportunity, reminding Jesus I had given him a ride because I was on the way to see someone else. He just smiled and said, "Thank you for bringing me home. I won't ferget 'yer.", and I firmly believe he won't . . . for I will never forget him.
After visiting with my friend and on the way back, I reflected on giving Jesus a ride home. "How many times in our lives", I wondered, "are we privileged to give Jesus a ride home . . . and don't?" Sometimes we are scared, sometimes we are too busy, sometimes we don't want to be bothered by the 'poor among us', and sometimes we simply can't bear the thought of Jesus riding in our car. But how many times do we miss the opportunity to be the Good Samaritan because Jesus only has a couple of teeth or blood spattered pants or some sort of hand-me-down tee shirt or flip-flops or hospital bracelets on each arm or clearly, doesn't have all his mental capacities because he has a concussion? And this guy had them all. Jesus was left along the side of the road . . .
In the Biblical narrative it is a lawyer who asks Jesus, "Who is my neighbor?" Sometimes, it is life itself which continues to ask such a question of us today.
I gave Jesus a ride home today . . . and I am the one who is at peace and healed because of it.
I just thought you would like to know he lives in Litchfield, at least that is where I took him. Have you met him anywhere today?
Peace on the journey.