vendredi, décembre 14, 2007

It is late. I want to write this memory down before I forget.

The journey with Abinoam.

"Is that the old testimony or the new testimony?" he asks, gesturing to the open bible on my lap.
"It's both," I say, assuming that he means testament.
"The old testimony and the new, they cannot go together." He has a thick Jewish accent.

Prior to this, I was annoyed that someone had sat down next to me. I often pray that I'll have a whole row to myself.
Coming out of Montreal, it looks like I'll be lucky. The train makes its stop at Dorval. I say a quick prayer: "Lord, please let me sit alone." I want a row to myself, but I also do not desire the onus of having to start a spiritual conversation. A man with a thick, greying beard, blue coat and beige toque sees the seat 6c and sits down. I am in 6d. I blink with annoyance. My first thought is, "I hope he's not a crazy." There is a loud, boisterous man sitting four rows up, and I pity the woman sitting across from him. I'm annoyed from four rows behind. I do not wish to face the same predicament, the same misfortune of sitting next to a loud, talkative man. I want to sit in quiet. Get some work done. Have leg room.

This will no longer happen. Thankfully the man goes to sleep. So do I.

Sometime later, I wake up and pull out my Bible. I read Acts and am busy contemplating. The man stirs and sits up.

And so the conversation begins. I reply, "I believe that the Old Testament and the New Testament go hand in hand. The Old Testament is a foreshadowing of what was to come in the New Testament."

"No." he replies resolutely.

"Even in the Old Testament, there are many prophecies about the character of a Messiah, Jesus."

"Jesus was just a good Jew."

"Are you religious?"

"I am a Jew. I am visiting from Israel."

We chat for awhile about how cold it is. About his visit. But soon, we get back into religious talk. What do I do, he asks. I tell him I am a missionary, working in Montreal. He asks me if it is my mission to convert. I tell him that I cannot force conversions, but that I hope that students in Montreal will come to know Jesus as their Messiah, their Saviour. He asks me pointedly, "So your goal is conversion then."

"Yes," I reply unapologetically, "I suppose it is."

He tells me he is a Jew by birth, but he does not believe in God. Does he believe in heaven? He says that one must follow the rules to enter into heaven. There are--he scrounges up his face in an attempt to remember-- 713 rules, he claims.

"Have you broken even one of them?" I say, silently noting his lack of yarmulke.
"Yes. I am not going to heaven."
Defiantly, he asks, "Will you? Do you fast for forgiveness? Religious Jews fast "

"Yes, I do fast, but I do not fast so that I will be forgiven."

"Jewish people fast for forgiveness," he states.

I reply that I do not fast so that I can be forgiven, because Jesus forgave all my sins, past present and future the moment I placed my faith in him. I tell him I fast out of obedience and a desire for greater intimacy with Christ.

He says, "Jesus was just a good Jew."

We have apologetics conversations over the character of Jesus. The validity of the Bible. Coffee. I share the gospel, chopped up in different pieces many times. In my head, I marvel at such an opportunity, despite my rebellious nature. A blessing despite my stubborn laziness.

The conversation continues until slightly past Kingston.

He goes back to sleep, and after attempting a Sudoku, so do I, lulled by the gentle rocking of the train and motion sickness.

We reach Toronto, and as we stand to get off the train, I say, "I missed your name." I want to know his name so that I can pray for him, without having to refer to him as "the man i met on a train."
"I didn't tell you my name."
I do not know how to reply.
He smiles, offers his hand and says, "It's Abinoam. A name from the Holy Testament."

Barak's father. Father of kindness.

The journey is over, at least the one to Toronto is. Abinoam, on the other hand, may be just starting his journey. THE journey. The only one that will ever matter. I think I will pray for him, so that at the end of the day our destination becomes the same.

4 commentaires:

The McKinleys a dit...

i love the way you write!
that's awesome, how many people think that when there on a train or greyhound...but Go dhas other plans.
i miss you Lyds, a phone date over the holidays is necessary... what r u doing christmas or boxing day???

lowonthego a dit...

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS PHONE DATEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

i'll be at home in Edmonton at my parent's place.

boxing day= SHOPPPING.

Anonyme a dit...

pretty neat!!!!

Jesskah a dit...

Stupid Sara stole my sentiments...(alliteration not intented). The way you wrote that second paragraph made me want to read a book written by that first-person narrator. This is the perfect example of what we were talking about before with boring friends. I want to read that person's book because I am interested in seeing their perspective on whatever they encounter. It's the WAY you wrote what you wrote... not so much the content (though in this case the content is interesting as well). But that's how I have never found my friends boring... I'm listening to HOW they're talking more than I am trying to care about what they're saying. (plz don't read that wrongly....I'm not always "trying to care".)