A Certain Encounter

A number of years ago I crossed paths with a stranger and perhaps talked with him for about five minutes. However, I have never forgotten this man or what he said. He was one of those eccentric characters that intersects a persons life. I have met dozens of these people who's imprints are stamped permanently in my mind. I don't even remember this man's name, or for that matter whether he even gave it to me. Not that it matters. The reason that I can remember him so well is because of the large wooden cross that he carried on his back in imitation of Christ. He wasn't a big man, but he had broad shoulders and large muscular popeye looking arms. His face was weather beaten, reddened and creased by the sun. He was perhaps 50 years old...maybe...he could have been older, or younger, it was hard to tell. I could hear him coming. Halelujah!!...Praise the lord!!...Praise Jesus Christ our savior!!...Naturally, when he saw me directly in his path he was elated to find that he had a willing audience. I noticed that besides the cross, this man was carrying a backpack with a bedroll strapped to it. He came up alongside me and asked me if I would touch the cross. For some reason I was hesitant to do so, but decided "what the hell, i'll humor the guy."  I touched it. "Praise be Lord Jesus Christ" he exclaimed "You are saved."
I asked him where he was from and he responded "wherever the cross takes me." I then asked him if he belonged to any church. He said "I belong to the Lord's church." I then asked him where he was going and he looked puzzled at first, but then his weary eyes lit up and he said "why, wherever the cross takes me." I looked down at his shoes. He was wearing a ratty old pair of tennis shoes and I wondered how many miles he had put on them. He asked me if I was one with our Lord and savior Jesus Christ. I said that I didn't know. He started to quote scripture, although what verse I cannot recall at this late date. He then urged me to follow him carrying the Cross of Calvary. I told him that I could not, that I had to work, people relied on me, but I wished him well. He uttered some biblical verse before ambling his way by me and continuing on his journey to I know not where.

     I have often wondered where this cross-bearers journey took him. Eventually the road ends somewhere. Was he still on it? Or had he gotten off somewhere? Either by taking a different path or running his old one to the end? It has been at least a decade since our paths crossed. In my travels I have met hundreds of people caught up in their religion who happened to find some sort of motivation or release by being vocal about it. Some of these people are outright frauds and hypocrites and are merely using religion  as a front for some other insidious purpose. This man was the genuine article. I could read it in his eyes. He had seen his God, or at least he truly believed that he had.  The sweat on his brow and neck, and his sun-scorched leather looking face was a testament to his genuine sincerity. The day after talking to this man I was astonished to see him again. This time, however, I merely caught a glimpse of him as I was driving down the highway. I passed him. He was wearing the same sweat stained orange tee shirt, carrying his cross with a still determined look on his weary face. He was at least ten miles from where I had seen him the day before. After I passed him I looked in my mirror and could see that he had turned his head around as if he might have recognized me. His scraggly hair and beard blowing in the wind. I could almost hear him whispering to me "I have found my salvation and my peace...have you found yours?"