From his place under the
freeway bridge, Ernie watched the Christmas season unfolding.
It was a little after sunset on Christmas Eve, and the city was all dressed up in bright colors. Even the houses down in the lower section
were covered with glowing points of red, green, blue, and golden
amber. But the tall buildings downtown were the most wonderful of all.
Like the fantastic towers of fairy-tale castles they stood tall in the
black night, pushing back the darkness with lighted windows and bright
holiday lights.
Ernie was cold. His tired, old body was finally giving up its hold on
life, he knew. But the pain still held on tight. Like dry and brittle
shards of glass, the pain chewed at his muscles and joints whenever he
moved even a little.
A block and a half away, children were singing Christmas songs in
front of the old folks’ home. A few blocks beyond that, the Salvation
Army was having a special Christmas Eve dinner for people like him:
folks who wander the streets because they have no home.
Ernie would’ve been there, too, but his old legs just wouldn’t take
him. Looks like the time has come, he thought. Guess I’m gonna die
under this old bridge. With that thought, Ernie let out an audible
sigh as a familiar sadness stirred in his heart once more.
Death was not the worst thing, though. Being alone to die was the
really awful part. Ernie was the kind of man who always liked to be
around people. That’s how he got started drinking in the first place.
He liked the noise of other people, the laughter and the music, and
all the regular Joes he met in the bars. Somehow, being with others
always made him feel more alive, like a real man with a face and a
name. He liked being where people knew him by name.
“Oh, God,” Ernie said in a rasping, slurring way. He closed his eyes
and prayed, “God, I know I ain’t no saint or nothin’. And I know it
must be my time to die. I’m not askin’ to live forever, Lord. I don’t
know why I managed to live this long. But please, God. Don’t let me be
alone when it comes time for me to go.”
Children’s voices drifted out to him on the cold night wind. Ernie
shifted painfully under his cover of cardboard and newspapers, trying
to get a little warmer. Lifting his bottle to dry lips, he drank the
last swallow of warmth that it held. He huddled, shivering, trying to
go to sleep.
In his mind, visions of the city night began to merge with memories of
happier days in childhood. He could see his mother smiling at him from
across a hot kitchen. He could even smell the turkey and dressing, and
pumpkin pie baking in the oven. Familiar stories of old Scrooge, and
holiday songs about Santa Claus and Rudolf, the red-nosed reindeer,
mingled in with the memories, filling his head with fanciful thoughts
of Christmas.
But then the cold darkness of being totally alone overcame the warm
memories. Ernie began to cry.
“Oh, God,” he called again into the darkness, “Please don’t let me die
alone. Not on Christmas Eve, Lord. I know I ain’t nobody, Lord. And I
never done even one good thing I can remember. But I sure could use a
little company.”
A moment later Ernie drifted into troubled sleep.
Even as he slept, the cold squeezed at his painful joints, making his
legs and arms twitch and jerk, restlessly. In time, the harsh sounds
of the city drowned out the gentle voices of children singing. The icy
darkness became filled with police sirens, honking horns, dogs
barking, and frantic last-minute Christmas shoppers cursing at each
other. Somewhere not far away in the night, a gunshot rang out.
The noises of the city made Ernie’s sleep fitful, but he slept on.
Then something moving near his head made him wake up. Looking up, he
saw a huddled figure, an old woman, sitting right next to him in the
dark.
“What do you want?” he asked, “Who are you?”
“Name’s Ethel. Rhymes with Bethel, Sonny Boy,” she said, and then
cackled with laughter at her own little joke. “I had come to visit
with you, you old coot! But you were snorin’ so loud, you almost
scared me away.”
Ernie chuckled at this. “Sorry Ethel, Honey,” he said, “Didn’t know
company was comin’...” Rolling his eyes comically, he added, “Or I
woulda worn a muffler.” Laughing weakly, he tried to get up.
“Oh, stay where you are,” Ethel said with a wave of her hand.
Then she turned, looking right at Ernie and said, “Say, what are you
doin’ up here all by yourself on Christmas Eve, Ernie? You should be
down at the Salvation Army, gettin’ some hot food in your belly and
singing Christmas carols to brighten you up.”
Ernie looked at Ethel. He couldn’t place her face, and he hadn’t heard
her name around town before. He wondered how she knew about him.
“I wish I was down there, Ethel. But I couldn’t make it tonight,” he
said. “Can’t even stand up. My old body’s givin’ up on me. I guess I’m
dyin’.”
Ethel’s eyes looked a little watery, but she smiled at him and said,
“I guess maybe you’re right, Ernie. I think you better get ready to
go, too. Are you ready?”
“I don’t know,” Ernie said. “How does a person get ready to die?”
“Well, for one thing, you need to be ready to meet your Maker,” Ethel
said. “Do you feel like you’re ready to face God?”
Ernie thought about this. “Gosh, I don’t know. I guess I am. I never
gave much thought to dyin’ or meetin’ God face to face,” he said.
“What do you think it will it be like, Ernie? What’s gonna happen when
you see God?”
Ernie thought back all those years to his early childhood days, then
said, “Gosh, I dunno. My old Mamma always said that God loves
everybody. I remember how she always told me that God loves this old
world so much that He gave us Jesus, so that anyone who believes in
Him could be saved from their sins and live forever.
“They can live up there in heaven with God and Jesus.” Ernie paused,
then added, “I guess my Mamma’s up there now. Sure wish I could go see
her one more time before I go to the place that people like me have to
go.”
“I'll bet she'd like to see you, too, Ernie,” Ethel said. “But you're
not planning to be with her? Where do people like you go when you
die?”
Ernie didn’t like talking about his life, or what would happen to him
when he died. He hadn’t done much with his life. He figured that he
wouldn’t be very welcomed where his good mamma was. Knowing that made
the sadness, that always seemed to be with him, feel even heavier and
colder in his old heart.
Yet he answered now as well as he could. He was very grateful for the
company.
“No Ethel, I don’t reckon there’s anything good enough about my life,
nothin’ that’ll get me into heaven,” he said. “But I do believe that
God really does care about people. Guess the only hope a fellow like
me could ever have would be in the Lord’s kindness, not in my
miserable old life.”
Ernie paused, then said, “Not the way I’ve lived my life.” Ernie
thought about all the wasted years that were forever lost now. Tears
welled up as he wished he could somehow start over and do things
better. But in a way, it was good to finally be done. No more
loneliness. No more pain. At least not in this life.
Ethel said, “You think God will just let you in anyway, Ernie? Do you
believe He has anything good to offer poor sinners who have nothing to
offer Him?”
Ernie smiled a sad little smile, “No, I guess that wouldn’t be very
fair to the ones who really did somethin’ with their lives, would it?
Lord knows I sure don’t have anything to offer God or nobody.”
He fell silent for a minute or two, and Ethel just waited. Finally,
Ernie said, “But you know, I remember what the preacher said just a
few weeks ago, down there at the mission. He was tellin’ us about how
God sent Jesus, His only Son, to save lost sinners. To save everybody
who wanted to be with Him.
“According to the preacher, it was on a night like this, a long time
ago, that God’s sweet love came down from heaven into this old world
for all people. That perfect love was all bundled up in a little baby
that the mamma and daddy called Jesus.
“And when He grew up to be a man, Jesus was a lot like you and me,
Ethel. He just traveled around. He had no place to call His own. And
He spent His days wandering from town to town, helpin’ all kinds of
people and tellin’ ‘em how much God loves everybody.
“In fact, they say that Jesus loved ordinary people, and even sinners,
so much that it got Him into trouble with the big wigs. He would eat
and drink with common folks just like us, and teach ‘em wonderful
things about God and heaven.”
Ethel turned her face to look directly at Ernie. She asked him, “What
do you suppose it all means? What does the love of Jesus mean here and
now, for someone like you, Ernie?”
“I’m not sure, Ethel.” Ernie said. The cold night was seeping deeper
and deeper into his old bones. He shifted around under the newspaper
and cardboard cover, trying to escape the icy wind. But the cold was
still there. But talking seemed to at least get his mind off of it
some. So he said out loud what he was thinking.
“The preacher said that Jesus shows us all our sins and washes away
all our guilt at the same time. He said that Jesus can take away all
the things I’ve done wrong -- my wasted years, my bad thoughts, and my
lies and stealin’, my dirty words -- all the wrong stuff that I ever
did. And he read to us where the Bible says that Jesus paid for all
the wrong things people do, when He died on the cross. I never knew
that before.”
Talking about these things stirred up Ernie’s childhood memories. They
suddenly came back, sharp and vivid. He could see sunlit Sunday school
rooms where he and other kids sat around tables, listening to stories
about Jesus. And he could even hear his mother singing the sweet old
songs about God’s amazing love for lost sinners.
And suddenly, all the bits and pieces started to fit together in his
mind, like never before. His heart swelled with love and gratitude for
his dear mother, and for all the good people through the years who
cared enough to tell him about the love of Jesus. Ernie wept tears of
joy as a new hope suddenly began pushing the cold darkness out of his
weary old heart.
He tried several times to speak, but his throat was choked with great
emotion. Finally he managed to say, “I see it now, at long, long last.
It finally makes sense to me.
“When Jesus died on the cross, that was God’s way of saying that He
really does love everybody -- even people like you and me, Ethel. And
because of Jesus, He will accept me, no matter what I ever did. I can
even remember hearin’ that when I was a kid, way back in Sunday
school. And after all these years, Ethel, I finally see it and I
really understand and believe it.”
“I’m so glad you finally understand, Ernie,” Ethel said. She wept
openly now. But something in her voice was different.
Ernie looked up at her. She had changed, somehow. Her skin seemed
almost to glow. And the leathery wrinkles in her face had almost
disappeared. Her dirty, stringy hair now hung in perfect curls like
yellow corn silk.
Man! Ernie thought. My eyes must be goin’ fast. He turned and looked
back toward the lights of the city. But all the pretty lights and even
the buildings themselves seemed to be fading away in the golden
brightness of a gigantic sunrise in the east. How could it be morning
already? It can’t be much past midnight, he thought.
“Are you ready to go now, Ernie?” Ethel asked him. “Everyone’s waiting
for you. They just now started throwing you a party when they heard
you were coming home. Your mamma can hardly wait to see you again.”
Turning back to look at her, Ernie saw that Ethel really was glowing
brightly now. All the wrinkles were gone. And her old, ragged clothing
had been transformed into robes of purest white. But that was nothing.
The woman had even sprouted wings! What kind of person was this?
“What’s goin’ on here? Who are you?” Ernie demanded to know. He
suddenly felt fuzzy and warm all over. But when he looked down, he was
shocked to see that he, too, was dressed all in perfect white. And he
was shining! Not one bone hurt anymore. How could this be?
“I told you, already, Ernie,” Ethel said, laughing and weeping at the
same time. Her face was radiant with joy and a bright, heavenly light.
“My name is Ethel. Rhymes with Bethel, remember? And it’s time to go
home now.”
But before Ernie could say another word, the two of them soared
swiftly up, up, and up into the golden brilliance of sunlit clouds,
and beyond the eternal morning into perfect day. And there, getting
closer and closer, was the biggest crowd of smiling faces he had ever
seen in all his long life. There must be millions and millions of
them, he thought. And they were all looking right at him.
Even from a very great distance, he could make out the words. “Welcome
home, Ernie! Welcome home!”
****
Author’s Note: We can be an angel. In the Bible, the word often
translated as “angel” usually means messenger. And there are heavenly
spirits that are angels of God, and also human beings who are angels
or messengers of God. We can be a messenger of God for anyone less
fortunate. We can carry the love of God to strangers. We can be there
to help, to encourage, to pray with and listen to other people who
need to know that God really cars for them.
Not only around the holidays, but any time during the year, we can
find a way to be a help and a blessing to friends, neighbors and
strangers who are in difficult times. Why not ask the Lord to guide
you in how you might be His messenger in your area?
God’s powerful words to Israel, spoken through Moses so long ago, are
still alive with meaning today:
“The stranger who dwells among you shall be to you as one born among
you, and you shall love him as yourself; for you were strangers in the
land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God.” (Leviticus 19:34)
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