What she knows

I stood near the fountain in Five Points watching the crowd drunkenly sway to the band playing though Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon." Joe and Tim and I were milling around, trying to talk to people who were a little less drunk in order to give them the good news of God's love through the cross. While I had a number of good tracts, Joe had a pocket full of Trick or Treat Million Dollar Bills--I took a few from him and went conversation-hunting.

No sooner had I gotten the tracts in my hand, I saw a young lady approach the fountain from one of the side streets, admiring the work of the pumpkin-carvers who left their creations along the fountain wall. I approached, held out the Trick or Treat Million Dollar Bill to her. "Did you get one of these?" I asked as she lit her cigarette.

"Oh, cool!" she said, taking it from me.

"Happy Halloween!" I wished her, as she admired the bill, folded it and stuck it in her pocket. The bandana around her head and black apron was a clue she worked in one of the restaurants nearby.

"On a break?" I asked.

"Yeah, just came out to see what was going on and have smoke for a minute." She smiled and took a drag.

"We need break everyonce in a while," I said. "So, will you be dressing up for Halloween?" I asked.

"Nah. Gotta work. I'll be wearing this as my costume," she directed attention to her attire. We laughed.

"Ok, well, if you were going to dress up, what you wear?"

"Probably the same tired thing I've been wearing the past 6 years . . . a 'good demon' outfit I have." She chuckled at herself.

I crossed my arms quizzically and asked, "What's a 'good demon'?"

She thought about it for moment. "I dunno. Just a demon that's . . . not bad, I guess."

"Is that possible?" I asked. She admitted the irony behind it.

I pressed, "Do you think people dress up the way they really feel inside? Do you think good people wear things that represent 'good' and wicked people wear the more 'evil' stuff?"

She looked away, cocked her hip, pursed her lips, thinking about it. "You know, I suppose they do . . ."

"Well, what do you think, dressing as a 'good demon.' Would you consider yourself to be a 'good person?'"

She got thoughtful again as she took a drag. "Yeah, I suppose I do. Sure. I'm a 'good person.'"

"How do you know?" I asked. "What standard do you use to come to that conclusion?"

"I dunno. I help people, try to be good. Things like that." She puffed and blew smoke.

"Have you ever told a lie?"

"Yes . . ." she replied, smiling.

"And you are still a 'good person?'" I smiled back.

"Maybe . . ."

"Ever stolen anything?" I asked.

"When I was small," she confessed.

"And are you are still a 'good person?'" I kept smiling back.

"Well . . ." she got lost in her thoughts for a moment.

"You know, when we take a look at the Ten Commandments, it's like looking into a mirror. We catch a good look at how God sees our heart. We think we are 'good' and suddenly we discover that if we've lied, we are liars. If we've stolen, we are thieves. If we've looked with lust, we are adulterers. The Bible says that sin is lawlessness . . ."

She interrupted. "Yeah, I've heard this before. My dad's a preacher."

"So you have a Christian background, then?" I asked.

I listened to her story for a few minutes as she described her upbringing and what she was doing now--working in bars and not living a clean life. She said repeatedly how she believed in God, and that she knew she was not right--the moisture level was on the rise in her eyes as she spoke. She talked about her husband, who, she learned after they married, did not only NOT believe in God, but thought of religion as worthless--she spoke of her hurt and shock and failure to please God. She promised she would try harder and would get cleaned up.

I took down my more casual stance and faced her square-on. I showed her from scripture that our good works are like filthy rags--stop trying. She looked as if I'd slapped her, then relaxed. She was softening.

I spoke to her about how God did the work for us through the cross. I reminded her about the need for repentance in order to find forgiveness, stressing the atoning death of our Lord Jesus Christ on the cross. She needed to repent and confess her sins and walk in obedience. Her eyes stayed wet.

She knew what I was saying was true and bowed her head, seeming to submit to the truth. She was quiet.

I asked if she had a Bible (she did) and if she would promise to go home and read Psalm 51 tonight--make it her prayer.

She would.

She put out her hand, reminded me she was still on the clock, shook my hand and we confessed that God had arranged our meeting--this was no accident.

She agreed.

I wished her a good evening, and we parted ways.