I know an orphan. His mother died unexpectedly after the school year had started. His hometown is far away, and he couldn't attend the funeral because it coincided with mid-term exams. His father has now transplanted himself to the city in which the eldest son resides.
When his mother died, he chose me to be his confidant. I don't know why. I had to trust the plan of that moment.
Since then, I spend time with him almost weekly. He has become a friend to me and to my team. He joins us on Sunday mornings, when possible. He comes over to hang out. We include him in celebrations and even mundane daily activities. He is a sweet, thoughtful and responsible young man. But even with those attributes, he has been without Hope.
Until now.
Prior to the start of a new week, we had a long, thorough and heartfelt talk on Friday in which we walked through the Roman road. It was made clear to me that it was time we broach that topic, and it was received with understanding but not commitment. As we said goodbye, he told me that he would spend the remaining hours of the night in thought of what was discussed.
He joined us last night at our weekly study. He was more subdued than usual, no doubt being affected by thoughts of his mother on a holiday (called Qing Ming) in which the dead are worshiped by surviving relatives. Meanwhile, throughout the city, small fires were popping along side streets as nationals burned paper effigies of items believed to be of use in the afterworld, including houses, cars, cell phones and even cigarettes. Our gathering was a world within a world; being in it but not of it. I was thankful to have him with us on such an occasion.
I didn't say much in reference to our Friday night conversation. I didn't need to. The sobriety on his face told me what he was thinking. I handed him a tract that was passed out to all in attendance on Sunday morning (not a usual practice). Written in both Chinese and English, it very clearly puts down all the points that we had addressed on Friday night. When I was handed a copy, I could quite literally feel my heart enlarge. I just knew that I knew that I knew: the time was at hand. I gave the tract to him last night and stepped back to watch things unfold at a pace in accordance with His plan and not mine.
I received a text message from him at 7:30 a.m. today. It was simple: “I want to.”
I will meet him after class this afternoon.
On the heels of an evening devoted to idolatry, this news gleams like the morning sun. I hope this is the first of many posts which follow his story.
