Eating Peanuts with Christ

Today I left my house with the intention of heading into the center of Santiago to look for a new pillow; on the way, I found Christ instead.

In the center of Santiago (as in all cities) there is always lots of movement, people, and noise. As you get closer and closer to the center, everything seems to move more quickly. It is easy to be swept up in the fast movement, the hurried steps, and your individual agenda and to become blind to everything that lives on the margins--to the people who have not been able to keep up, who have been shuffled aside, sometimes forcefully but more often through (the much more painful) gradual neglect and apathy.

As I said in one of my first entries, I try to be intentional about living with a spirit of availability so that God's grace can be freer to work, live, and transform through me. However, even though I try, I often get wrapped-up in the busyness of life and need Christ to call me out of the center whirlwind to truly encounter Him in the margins. Today was one such reminder. As I approached Santiago's central plaza, I saw a man...homeless, curled up, sitting against a street wall. I passed him by. Immediately after, I knew that I had to turn around. Many of you know the story of my encounter with Maria in Peru; this felt very much the same, and thinking of her, made me stop myself. I bought a little bag of peanuts from a stand close by, returned, sat down next to the man, introduced myself, and gave him the bag of peanuts. The first thing he said to me was, "Can I ask you a favor?" I said, yes. He replied, "It's not money." I said, "Ok, what is it?" He responded, "It's time. Can you spend some time with me?" I told him, "I'm right here by your side, and I'm not going anywhere."

Today, I spent an hour sitting on the corner of Catedral and Plaza de Armas talking with Patricio. We talked about writers and poets, about traveling and languages, about a car accident in the north of Chile that left him almost blind, about the "vida complicada" (complicated life) that he experienced living in Brooklyn and Manhattan, about ... "What's the name of that alcohol that they sell in the U.S. again? ...oh yea, whiskey. That's complicated, that is...whiskey," about blues and jazz, and about Christ, the only person who has been able to conquer the sorrow and suffering of the world.

About every 10 minutes, Patricio would ask me again, "Can you do me a really big favor? It's no money," he would say (the last part in English). Each time, I would reply, "Yes, what is it," and he would say again, "Can you spend some time with me?" Often Patricio spoke with tears in his eyes. "Sorry," he would say to me, "it's just that, I'm really lonely. I'm all alone."

Sometimes Patricio would laugh..."You know why I'm laughing? You remind me of my daughter. You know what her name is? Gemita.  Her full name means pretty stone of dawn."

About 5 times Patricio asked me where I was from. I said, the U.S.--Ohio, and he said, "oh yea, I know it. I know it." He told me that he has traveled all over the world..."I know many countries. The only country I don't know is myself." I asked him where he was born; he told me: "I don't know, no one ever told me."

About 10 times, he said to me, "Sorry I'm kind of strange. I'm weird, I know. But I'm just lonely. I sit here calmly, and I don't bother anyone. I don't bother anyone. I'm quiet. I don't ask for money. You know why? Money makes life real complicated."

One time Patricio really started crying. "You know why I'm crying?" he said. "Because I'm still happy deep down, even though life has been really complicated for me. A lot of suffering, you know? But there's joy deep down. There's both--joy and sadness."

Today I ate peanuts with Christ on a street corner next to the great Cathedral in the center of Santiago. When we were done talking, I thanked him for his wisdom, his story, and his time. He thanked me for sitting next to him and for talking to him. He reached out for my hand and held it tight in his for a few minutes as we said goodbye. Then he told me he was off to conquer the world, and we parted ways.

Christ lives on the margins, in the most lonely, in the homeless, in the suffering.  Let's pray for the eyes to see Him there and the strength to reach out and touch His brokenness so that He, in turn, can transform our own hearts.