David Stippick's Blog
Jesse / 07.20.09, 02:51 PM
I met Jesse last fall. He was in the Disciple program at the New Orleans Mission where Katie, Braxton, and I help serve dinner once a week (sometimes more, depending on what Loretta needs).
As the weeks went by, we began to develop a relationship with Jesse, and he was one of the people I looked forward to seeing every week. I can’t remember how far back it was, but I remember going in one day, and he wasn’t there. When we asked around, we found out that Jesse had left the program. He was just days away from graduating out. He had tried to get in contact with his daughter and she refused him. He had to drink. And probably more.
I didn’t see Jesse for months, and honestly after a while, I stopped wondering about what had happened to him. Two weeks ago, as I was sitting in the kitchen making sure the serving line ran smoothly, I saw Jesse come through the line. I didn’t have time for more than a quick hello, but he didn’t look good at all.
This last Thursday, I was working the serving line, and here came Jesse again. We exchanged hellos again, and I told him I’d be out to chat in a few minutes. By the time we were done serving, Jesse had left the dining hall, and gone to the room that functions as the sanctuary at the mission. I walked in and saw him standing against the wall, and as I walked towards him, he walked towards me, and sat on a pew.
Jesse had lost a significant amount of weight since he’d been living at the mission. This could be, I thought, because he’s not eating three square meals a day anymore. As I would come to find out though, it was due to his new (or rather old, but recently picked up again), and fairly steady diet of crack. He’d never been HUGE, but he was bigger, and it was mostly muscle. He wasn’t a shell now, but he was certainly a shell of the Jesse I’d met so many months ago.
As I sat down, we embraced, and I tried to hug a little tighter and longer than normal, hoping that God could show him love through that. We didn’t talk for more than five minutes, and I don’t know if I could have handled any longer than that, but in that time he shared that he had a job doing loading and unloading at the convention center, and that he was drinking and using again. Before I got up, I asked if I could pray for him, and he said yes. I don’t know what I said, because I was trying not to cry. That takes a lot of energy for me.
I should have taken some time and shared with Jesse about God’s intense love for him, and His desire that Jesse be freed from his circumstances. But I’m sure he’s heard all of that before. Maybe I should have told him about my own addiction that I’‘m trying to overcome. But no…that’d be to personal for me. Shouldn’t go there, right? The truth was, I was scared. What could I EVER say to a man who is more than twice my age, and has walked valleys I will never even DREAM of, that would mean anything?! I convinced myself that the answer to that question was a resounding ‘nothing’. So I walked away. I walked away. I’m not proud of this, but it’s what I did.
I got up and walked away. I don’t know if I’ll ever see Jesse again on this side of glory. But I hope I do. I hope Jesse is able to overcome the obstacles he has been faced with (especially the ones he has place in front of himself). But the odds say he won’t. That’s what breaks my heart. Please, please pray for Jesse.
Jesse, I love you brother, but even more than that, God loves you. More than you or I will ever know. I know that I will see you again someday, when death has lots it’s sting, there are no more tears, and the chains of addiction have been thrown off of the both of us.
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