One Morning

I drove home from work around 6AM coming from the usual overnight stay at the studio. My drive normally takes around 2 and a half hours if traffic is manageable (5 hours worst case) as I live 33 miles out. I often have to literally bathe myself with my water bottle just to keep awake, the other remedy being a stop over half-way at a small convenience store along Dahlia, Fairview to get some salted barbecue nuts (Nagaraya).

I went in and got a bottle of rootbeer plus the snack and sat down just for a bit just to help me stay awake. A young kid gently knocked on the window in front of me outside. Street kids frequent places like this to ask for food, and I love talking with them about their families and life, so I went out.

I asked if he wanted some of my snacks and he said yes, so I sat with him outside where there were seats provided. His name is Noel, 14 years old, his mother is supposedly working somewhere and will pick him up around evening to eat. Till then he is left to fend for himself. He doesn't know where his dad is.

As he was eating,  I asked him if he knew who Jesus was. He said only that he was God's Son. Wow, I thought to myself, this is a good start. I then asked him if he knew that Jesus died and what he died for, he said "para sa atin?" (For us?) I proceeded to explain in children's terms how man got separated from God through rebellion, about God appointing a day where he will judge the world in righteousness, citing simple examples in life he can relate to. He gave correct answers to simple moral questions and I was pleasantly surprised to know he was an intelligent young man, however, lost and misguided. Then I led him to the work of the cross, and the new life it brings, not necessarily to one's social standing, but more importantly to the restoration of our relationship with the one who created us.

I was careful to be as plain and simple as I can be, making sure to cite example after example, asking simple questions about the necessity and sufficiency of Christ’s sacrifice, that surprisingly, he mostly answered with affirmation that he understood. I then asked him to accompany me to the car, asking what food he wanted to eat. I was expecting him to ask for just some snacks, but he said if it would be ok to have a small rice meal instead. This told me that this poor fellow really was hungry. I asked him if he knew where to buy decent food and he pointed to a small carinderia across the street. I asked if he knew how much would a meal cost, and he replied, "25 pesos po" with his head bowed low in embarrassment. He was a humble soul. I then handed him enough till dinner plus some for snacks. Plus I handed him a tract and asked if he could read, to which he said yes and proceeded to read the words aloud but very slowly. I smiled. That was good enough for me. I hugged him and blessed him.

I turned one last time to see him slowly crossing the street towards the diner reading the tract with both hands, unmindful of the tricycle drivers, who were obviously familiar with him, making fun of him as he attempted to read.

As I was driving home I imagined being alive still, 25 years from now somewhere, and being tapped on the shoulder after service by a pastor, named Noel. I will never know until then.

God is indeed the God of the fatherless. It warms my heart to know so.