CHICAGO, IL (May 11, 2009) – I wondered what to say about a man I knew for five months, but honestly, barely knew at all.
I know that Sam moved from the South in the mid-50’s for work. I know he had a mother and father and probably siblings, although I don’t know who they are. I know he was loved and loved a woman named Rose because of the tattoo on his arm. I know he was shot at least once, and most likely did something to deserve it.
I don’t know if he had a family or a house. I don’t know his favorite color or song or smell. When we asked him where he worked, he replied slowly, “Lots of places.” I don’t know his middle name or exact date of birth. I don’t know what made him laugh, although I loved to make him smile.
This is one thing I do know, though. His name is Samuel, which literally means (according to the NIV) “God has heard.” God has heard. And the same God who hears brought us all into Sam’s life by visit or story. Sam, for his part, was gracious enough to let a strange girl and eventually a group of strangers come visit him and chat. He let us pray with him and sing over him. He even let himself be loved and love a little in return.
Now what? We trust. We trust that the God who heard something – be it a prayer from Sam or someone in his life or even something from deep in our souls that we cannot express – brought us together. He has smashed our lives so that I, for one, will never think or act the same again. He is the God who heard and the God who loves Sam more than we ever could hope or imagine.
And so I pray that Sam has found rest in the arms of his loving Abba, and that as always, all honor and glory is to the God who heard, who hears and will forever hear.
