I spent the afternoon at Pershing Square, in downtown Los Angeles, with two incoming The Master’s Seminary students: Warner Aldridge and Adam Fischer. The three of us were there to herald the gospel, distribute the Word of God and paper missionaries, and engage people in conversation.
After LAPD asked us to stop using amplification, we decided to pack up and continue our street ministry elsewhere in the city. As we were packing up, James rolled across the street in his wheelchair and thanked us for preaching.
I engaged James in gospel conversation. James told us he was 54-years-old. He looked much older. His was a hard life lived.
This video captures part of my gospel conversation with James.
Warner, Adam, and I walked with James to the shoe store. Along the way, I learned that James spent two years in the Navy. I asked him how he managed to only serve two years. He told me he had been discharged (dishonorably, I assumed) for going AWOL. Apparently, his ship was in port in Japan. He met a girl while on shore leave, and he made a stupid decision.
I asked James how he ended up in a wheelchair.
“I was a crack-head.” James said. “One night, after buying $20 of crack, I was crossing the street, looking at my drugs. A car ran a red light and hit me. My spine was broken.”
James also told me he has AIDS.
“So, what’s going to happen to you when you die, James?” I asked.
“I’m going to heaven.”
“While I hope that’s true,” I said, “Why do you believe that’s true?”
“Because God knows my heart.”
“James, what you think is going to be the single piece of evidence that will exonerate you before God, is the one piece of evidence that will condemn you. You’re problem, James, is that God does know your heart. What you think will get you into heaven is the very thing that will send you to hell–your heart.”
After crossing the intersection of 6th Street and Hill Street, James said he had to urinate. With no bathrooms nearby, he simply rolled himself to the curb and urinated in the gutter. Moments after he finished, a well-dressed business woman walked by, almost stepping in James’ urine. I was struck by both the stark contrast between James’ life and that of the business woman, and how the two lives–two lives that couldn’t be more different–almost intersected.
We turned a corner and James pointed out the store where shoes were sold.
James looked at the various styles of shoes on a few racks, at the front of the store. “I want a pair without shoestrings. Something with…..”
“Something like velcro closures?” I asked.
“Yeah. Something like that.”
I asked a store clerk if they had any such shoes. She said they did not. James was disappointed.
“James,” I asked with a little sterner tone, “Do you want the shoes you want, or the shoes you need?”
“The shoes I need.”
“Okay. Then pick a pair of shoes.”
Another store clerk asked James what size shoe he wore. Finding the right size shoe, the clerk offered James a pair. James tried them on. I will always remember the look of relief on his face. The shoes he had been wearing were too small. James breathed a loud sigh of relief. A smile formed on his face. It was as if James had somehow been liberated. But it was only his feet.
James was experiencing the passing joy of shoes.
I paid for the shoes and several pairs of socks.
We walked James out of the store and down the street to the corner. James would go one direction and we would go another–back to the subway station. But before we parted company, I had to tell James something. I couldn’t leave him comfortable in the passing joy of shoes.
“Thank you very much for the shoes.” James said. He seemed sincere.
“You’re welcome. But I’ve got to tell you James that my heart breaks for you. You are finding joy in a new pair of shoes, and I can understand that. I’m glad you like the shoes. I believe your thankful, and you’re welcome.
“But James, as you enjoy those shoes, as you think about how comfortable those shoes are, I want you to remember what you’ve rejected today. You find joy in a new pair of shoes, but you’ve rejected the gift of forgiveness for your sins against God. You find joy in a new pair of shoes, but you’ve rejected the gift of reconciliation with your Creator. You find joy in a new pair of shoes, but you’ve rejected salvation through faith in Jesus Christ.
“James, unless you get right with God, you will perish in your sins and spend eternity in hell.”
Tears filled James’ eyes and there was a slight quiver in his voice. “But I’m not rejected Him.”
“James, you think your heart is good. You think God is going to take into account what you believe are the good things you’ve done for other people. You’re wrong. Unless you repent and put your faith in Jesus Christ alone for your salvation, you’re going to spend eternity in hell, as the just punishment for your sins against God.”
I think my voice was shaking a bit, now.
“Will you think about that, James?” I asked.
“I will.”
“God bless you, James.”
“God bless you, too.”
We turned and went our separate ways. No words were spoken between the three of us until we reached the escalator leading down into the subway station. That’s when Adam asked me, “So, how are you doing, Tony?”
“That was hard. Conversations like that break my heart.”
I’ve thought a lot about James since our divine appointment.
The passing joy of shoes.
Unless James repents and receives Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior, he may never know a greater joy than the passing joy of a new pair of shoes.
Pray with me. Ask the Lord to save James. Pray he will know the greatest of joys–salvation by the grace of God alone, through faith alone, in Jesus Christ alone. Pray he will one-day be in heaven, worshiping at the throne of His King. Pray he will look back on how very small was the passing joy of shoes when compared to so great a salvation.
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