Soul of a Stranger

Be merciful to me, LORD, for I am in distress;
my eyes grow weak with sorrow,
my soul and body with grief.
Psalm 31:9

You, just like me, have been there. That moment when it pulls strongly at your heart, threatening to eat you up from the inside. It’s “the urge”, that strong desire to go ahead and talk to that stranger sitting next to you. You remember when it happened most recently? I remember most vividly. But you, just like me, resisted and resisted until the moment was lost. And as you parted ways you wondered, what if I had opened my mouth? What if I hadn’t kept so quiet. Might someone’s life be different?

It happened to me today. I was at the train station, clad from head to toe against the bitter wind as it howled through the trees bringing in the cold and rain. The minutes ticked away as I waited for my transport. A young man walked up towards me, squinting as he tried to read the words on the message board. “When’s the next train?” he ventured. “Four minutes”, my curt reply. “Thanks”, he said, and sauntered over to a nearby bench. And then that nagging feeling crept up. I already had the opening, he had broken the ice; all I had to do was strike up a conversation. Well, just as always, I resisted, that is until God stepped in and pulled a “Jonah” on me.

“Hey bruv, you work around here?” It was the young man again. I turned to answer and looked him over. A tall, handsome, Indian man, perhaps my age. I took the chance and engaged him in light conversation. “I work in a sexual health office” I said. He uttered a few choice expletives in response, laughed and said, “so you can help me then!”

As we clambered onto the train and took our places I got to learn that his wife had kicked him out of the house some three months back and he was staying at a friends’. About two years ago she had begun seeing a wealthier man and the marriage had broken down. When I asked him if he had hopes of reconciliation he just shook his head, sadly. It was too far gone.

“I don’t know where it all went wrong,” he said. “We were in love when we got married; it was not arranged.” It was easy to see the hurt he felt because of her betrayal. I could tell he still loved her but there was very little hope in his voice. We gradually went on to talk about more trivial matters and when we felt comfortable enough we exchanged numbers. After that an uneasy silence fell over us as the miles rushed by.

“Doosuur, say something,” it was the little voice in my head. “Grab the opportunity before the moment passes.” This time I was somewhat more willing (the hard work had already been done, no?) and I gently asked, “do you believe in prayer?”

“Yes, indeed, I do. I pray every morning.”

“Good”, I returned, “you ask God to take care of you through the day...?”

“No,” he answered, “I just thank God, I just thank God for another...” and his voice trailed off as he buried his face in his hands, sobbing, and turned towards the window. In my short encounter with this young man I had been offered a rare glimpse into the hurt and pain that fills his soul. It was so much that he did not even have the courage to ask God for anything. The love of his life had left him for another man and he was sad, alone and sorely betrayed.

“It’ll be okay,” was all I could offer. “I will pray for you.”

As my stop rolled by I offered to meet up with him for drinks at some other time and we shook hands and parted. But those tears ... those tears! ... they tore at my heart.

Please join me and pray for this sad soul. God knows his name.

With love, Doosuur.