A Man Called Wesley

What we meant to do was simply pick up a document that his wife was translating for us, necessary for us to register our marriage here in Germany.

What we ended up doing was staying for almost an hour and a half, listening to him tell stories of fleeing the Communists in Czechoslovakia, ending up as part of the Army in the United States, and somehow landing in Berlin.

Meet Wesley.

He's probably 70-something, and one of those cute old men where there was no way we could refuse his offer to "stay for just a bit" and allow him to serve us something to drink while his wife was finishing up the official stuff. We were on our way home from a wedding, were tired, and had a to-do-list waiting at home, so the offer wasn't exactly tempting, but we ended up staying anyways. It seemed to mean a lot to Wesley for him to be able to share with us memories of important times in his life, even if his dramatic Czech-mixed-with-Schwäbisch-German-accent prevented us from understanding everything. He even pulled up his pant legs to show us war wounds. What a history! What a personality!

So after an hour and a half of us listening to his stories, he must of assumed we were really interested, so he ended up handing us this folder before we walked out the door. Inside were photocopies of most of his documents, certificates, and awards from his army days! Letters from the CIA and President, a picture of his uniform and badge, etc. What exactly we're going to do with all these pages now, we're not quite sure; but we felt honored that he would share with us and know it was encouraging for him to be given listening ears too.

He walked us to our car, leaning in the window of the driver's door as we buckled our seat belts and started the engine. He made us promise to come back sometime in the summer when we could have a picnic outside together, and "plan on staying for longer." Then he stood under the street light, waving goodbye in the fog until we were out of the driveway and had rounded the corner.

Oh, Wesley...

I'm reminded of the story in Mark 5, about a dead girl and a sick woman...

Jesus was asked by a synagogue ruler to come pray for his daughter, who was sick and dying. So Jesus went with him, and many people followed them. Along the way, a woman who had dealt with a bleeding problem for 12 years and had had no success with doctors came up behind Jesus in the crowd, and "touched his cloak,  because she thought, 'If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed'" (v. 28). And what happened? "Immediately her bleeding stopped and she felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering."

It is interesting that the Bible records that "Jesus felt power go out from him," and turned around to ask, "Who touched me?" The woman was embarrassed but eventually identified herself, and Jesus tenderly said, "Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.” 

Just after that, though, a messenger from the ruler's house came with the news that Jesus need not hurry; the girl had died. But "ignoring what they said, Jesus told the synagogue ruler, 'Don’t be afraid; just believe'" (v. 36). He continued on his way, to find the house filled with people mourning. But he went into the girl's room, took her by the hand, and said, "Little girl, I say to you, get up!” Immediately she stood up and walked around, of course to everyone's astonishment! 

In this story, I picture myself as Jesus, with "important business to take care of." I have things to do, people waiting for me, expecting things from me, and I want to do good. My plans are not wrong. But along the way, a sick woman appears, or maybe a man called Wesley. And the question is: do I let them touch me? Someone needs a hug, a prayer, a listening ear, encouragement, help. Do I continue on my way, or do I stop and turn around, looking the person in the eye and gently caring for them? The good news is, according to God's schedule, there's time for both. The rest of the crowd must have thought Jesus was crazy to continue on to the ruler's house when the girl was already dead. But Jesus knew he still had a mission.

In this season of Advent, the weeks of preparation before Christmas, let it not just be a time of preparing decorations, food, gifts, and programs. Instead let it be a season of preparing our hearts, making room for Jesus...and others. Let people take priority over things. Allow yourself to be touched by others so that God's healing, love, and joy can flow through you.