Rejoice In the LORD, Always

I roll to my other side to ease the ache.

How much longer, God?

Silence. Again. Nothing but the hush of wind through the pine tree above and the faint speckling of wind-blown snow against my wet bag.

Rejoice in the LORD always, again I say it, rejoice. Whoever wrote those bold words in the Bible, have better seen some real life-grueling seasons to slip in the word “always”. If not, I’m gonna have a real talking with them when I see them in Heaven.

Snow crunches behind me. I don’t roll back over in my sleeping bag. If they want to kill me, I’ll thank them.

“Hey, you awake,” says a gruff male voice.

“Yeah.” My voice comes out in a whisper.

“You got a light?”

“No, sorry, bro.”

“What?”

“No.” I can’t talk any louder.

“Are you okay, brother?” The crunching circles to my front.

A bearded man crouches before me. Wrinkles cross every inch of his worn face. His dirty old coat indicates he’s like me.

“You look cold, man!” He checks out my condition. “Don’t give up, bro. You’ve gotta sit up and stay dry.”

He’s right, but I don’t have the energy. “Help.”

“Don’t worry, bro.” He kneels beside me and hoists me up into a sitting position against the tree. “And here, take this, ya need it more than me. It’s not as warm as when I first got it, but it’ll do the trick.”

He reaches to hand me a styrofoam cup with a lid.

The cold air slices into my sleeping back as I pull an arm out to receive the gift. “Thank you.”

Hot Cocoa. Good. The warm drink tastes like sun-bathed heaven. Especially after not eating in two days.

“What are you doing out here, man? There’s a bridge just over that hill.”

I drink some more. The warmth of the drink spreads through me. “I can’t.” My words come out a bit smoother. “He chased me from Jefferson Avenue bridge. But I can’t make it to the next bridge. Too weak and tired.”

“Is he one of us?”

“Yeah.”

“You serious?” The man folds his arms and shakes his head. “That’s not right, man. Not right at all.”

The snow continues falling. About four inches have already accumulated.

“I’m Curt.”

“I’m Kevin,” I say.

“How long you been out here, Kevin?”

“About three months.” The warm drink revives me.

“Oh, you’re a fresh one. I’ve walked these streets for fifteen years. Three months since you came here to St. Louis? Or since you lost your place?”

“Since I lost my place.”

“Wow, man. What’s your story?” Curt reaches into his pocket and pulls out a stainless steel flask.

“I was a minister.”

Curt panics for a moment and hides the flask. “A pastor?”

“It’s okay.” I nod toward the flask. “No, I was a minister. I never had my own church. Just traveled a lot. Even spoke in some of the biggest churches here in this city.”

“That’s real nice, man, good for you. What happened?”

“Some fan shot a photo of me in a bar making small talk with a young woman.”

“Were you cheating?” Curt stroked his long beard.

“No, just saying hi. He just took it at the right time.”

“Sorry to hear that, man. Did your wife leave you?”

“No, not at first. First, the ministry died. After years of trying to revive it, our savings gave out too. But I was too stubborn to give up. I believed God would open a door if I just waited one day more. With the stress of it all and a few unpleasant words, my wife ran back to her parents with our two kids, and I set off to prove her wrong. A month later, our house foreclosed.”

“That’s rough, brother. No friends or family took you in?”

I fight off the bitterness. “No. They all believed the media. They believed it was all God’s punishment on me.”

“Assumptions, that’s all they do. They look at us and assume they know our story. Even when they do stop and listen, they don’t believe us.” Curt takes a drink of his flask and hands it out to me. “It’ll warm you up.”

At the expense of cooling down my core body temperature, but I accept the offer to honor my new friend. I take the smallest sip I can manage and hand it back.

“Now listen, you aren’t going to last the night in that wet bag. There’s a shop about a mile away. I’ll grab you one of their warm blankets. But don’t you give up on me before I come back.”

I promise and thank him. He hobbles away and disappears into the white.

I shiver. Without Curt to distract me, the ache of the bitter cold sweeps over me. I won’t last the night. I’m surprised I lived last night. But now I’m wet, and I have no bridge to shelter under.

No friends, no family, no money, no home. Nothing. I have . . .

I open my eyes. Did I fall asleep? The sky is growing dark, which means Curt left about three hours ago. Did he die? Did the police arrest him? I’ll probably never know.

The wind sweeps more snow under the limbs of the pine tree. I’m too weak to adjust and pull my wet sleeping bag over my head. Rejoice in the LORD, always. How? I’m freezing to death. Rejoice in what?

“Rejoice in your salvation.”

I open my eyes. The snow is gone and I don’t feel cold anymore. I feel warm and healthy. Every pain is gone. A man stands above me. He looks oddly familiar. He smiles at me.

I feel like I just woke up from a dream.

“Your troubles and pains are gone now, my son. Well done, my good and faithful servant. Welcome home.”

The End

 

If you liked this short story, I’d encourage you to check out my other story Thrive Stories: The Last Communion

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