I saw Jesus tonight at the Casino. He wasn't in the toga, with wavy beach hair surrounded by a glowing aura either. He was just as Mother Teresa the Saint of Calcutta said he would be: "in the distressing disguise of the poor." He had a knit sports team hat on, I think the Buffalo bills. He was white-Anglo, probably redneck or rural poor, with a winter jacket and dark trousers on. And He had some sort of moustache and, I think, glasses. I almost missed him sitting on the cushioned bench which was just outside the restrooms... like everybody else did.
I glanced quickly at him and how people were doing their own thing: going into the Lav, using the ATM Cash machine, wiping up tables, supervising their kids eating, pushing a baby carriage, talking with friends. And He was just sitting there, slumped over with his chin touching his knee cap. I cocked my head to the side. I was looking to see signs of life. At any rate, I was equally as bewildered that for all of his appearance seeming "not right," people were walking right by as if He was invisible.
Earlier, I had popped over to the Food Court (I did NO gambling today. I was just in the area and had a dessert from Opal's on my mind.) and grabbed a piece of pizza. It was big. It was also $5.50. I pondered that we used to be able to get a whole entire pizza in college for $5.50. As I was eating it at the counter-style seating area, I was watching the managers circle the perimeter of the Food Court like coyotes near the farm at sunset. Their purpose was not clear. One of them actually looked like a coyote. It made me wonder how much they get paid to survey the Food Court. But in order to get INTO the Food Court, they had to have walked by the bench where the guy was. Hmm... But let me back up the story a bit...
Apparently I ate too fast. As I was walking towards Opal's to grab a dessert to go and a hot latte, I started to feel funny. Some sort of indigestion that keeps bothering me lately, but it is actually all just air. Instead of going to the dessert case, I sat down at the table. I started asking myself Heart Attack Questions. Nah, my arm was okay. This was just a trapped air issue. So I took out my cell phone and faked it like I was actually doing something. I went on Google Finance and checked my stocks. I scribbled five numbers on a piece of paper to transfer to my notebook at home. What I really was doing was waiting for the feeling to pass. I was regretting the slice of pizza, or maybe that I had just wolfed it down too quickly. I killed some time, made a mental note to have some Pepto at home, and walked over to the dessert case. I think sometimes all these things that seem to us like "delays" in our plans are actually the Almighty setting the stage in another area so we can walk into it and play the hand He dealt us, pun intended.
So I zipped my coat up, grabbed my latte and my little cheesecake-ette, all pretty with raspberries sitting on top. I actually walked right by Jesus! I walked the full length of a row of machines, came to a dead-end, not my intended exit, then I circled back and passed by the ATM machine. I glanced at the guy on the bench for the first time really. I kept walking, processing conflicting data. Then something inside my head said, "Look at him again." That's when I saw the guy was crumpled forward with his chin on his arm and knee. As I stated above, I kind of didn't know what to make of that. The position defied physics. Why hadn't he fallen OFF the bench? This consideration of data was all going through my head as if I was in the Twilight Zone. I looked around for the Coyote-Duty Security Guards. Where the hell are they when they might be of some assistance?! Perhaps they had vanished somewhere into the bowels of the casino amidst blinking lights and people hoping to defy the odds of gambling. I glanced into the Food Court area and saw the kind-looking man with the dishrag and bucket waiting for people to leave their tables so he could clean up their messes. (And I thought the last job I interviewed for sounded humbling!) I pointed at him like I was someone with authority. He moved toward me. I gestured toward the man slumped on the bench and said, "Can you call Someone? That just doesn't look right," He nodded with the sobriety of a judge and went to the employee behind the burger counter. She sent out this guy who was definitely not Security. He looked like a collision of the Pillsbury Dough Boy and a short bus driver, only clothed all in white with black trim. Convinced that my part in the story was over, I faded into the casino's noise as I made my way toward the far exit where I had left my vehicle, it seems years ago.
Look, I've seen Jesus before like this. And I always try to get help for Him. I saw Him on His back in a vacant lot in Montreal with beads of sweat on His browned, indigenous face in the 90 degree sun of that day. I remember how angry I was when the chick working the laundromat next to the lot played the "I don't speak English" game with me when I was trying to ask her to call help for him. I bet if I asked her to sing the words to the United States National Anthem for $50 she would have been able to crank that out. I have seen Him in the woman, size 4 in a red parka and jeans who was alone on the street in Syracuse in negative 20 degrees Farrenheit, plus wind chill factor. She was looking to get back to her side of the city. I took her myself and she taught me a powerful lesson on trusting God. I saw Him down the street from where I live, I believe that time He had escaped from a local nursing home and was planning to walk to Utica. (Utica is an hour drive from my house. Walking is ... yeah, a bit farther.) I talked to Him, and then sent the State Police to Him.
So, yes, I've seen Jesus. But how many times have I not seen Him? That question now bothers me more. And I think that is good because it keeps me from being mad at all the people in the casino tonight who were in a mental coma and walked right by Him. It reminds me of a song we used to sing in college:
"Open my eyes, Lord, help me to see Your Face. Open my eyes, Lord, help me to see ..."
Make of that what you will.
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