Tony

He looked me in the eye and came to a halt a few feet away. 

“Sir, I don’t know who you are or why I felt a calling to say this but, may I pray for you?” He questioned.

Confident that he spoke to someone else, I turned and gazed at the empty subway. His footsteps approached as I met his eyes again, his simple aura invading mine. 

“Pardon?” I muttered, confusingly. 

“Please let me pray for you.”

Evidently to this stranger, I was homeless and a wreck. Despite this, his eyes were soft. He didn’t look at me like my family used to. Before they turned their back on me, prompting me to turn my back on the world. 

“What’s your name my friend?”

That word hung suspended in the chaotic waves of my thoughts. Friend?

I responded unwillingly, almost wishing I ignored him in the first place. “Tony.”

“Tony, I feel that you are a gift and a treasure. Once again, may I have your permission to pray for you?” He knew I was skeptical yet asked almost interrogatively, as if him not praying for me would bring pain to all that he kept close. 

The query had finally taken root among the field of burden that occupied my mind. “No reason to decline, I guess.” 

Is this guy serious? Endless thoughts were conjured up as his words bounced off of the nothingness surrounding us. What did I know of God? What did God know of me? Is there a God? Who does this man think he is? I should’ve said no rather than accept the pity of a stranger just because of the way I looked. My mind trailed, and my focus reigned in on his words.

“...and God, please bring clarity to Tony’s heart. Bring him the peace he deserves and guide his soul to your eternal presence if it is aligned. Amen.” Then he thanked me and left.

Days passed as normal. I guess God chose not to grace me with His presence and the strange encounter amounted to nothing, yet I felt myself yearning for him to come back. I wanted that moment to recur. Once more, I wished to experience the feeling of having someone ask to speak to me. I stared at the subway walls hoping for the comfort of a praying stranger again. I thought that maybe, the prayer would be answered and things would be okay.

I was startled awake the next morning, the same stranger sitting next to me. Like my wish had been heard, he once again asked me if I’d accept a prayer. Without hesitation, I accepted and he began to speak softly.

“God, I am your humble servant. Please allow Tony to see the light of your presence, and to understand himself through your eyes. You led him to me twice, God, and without fail I have answered the call. I ask you, if it is aligned, give Tony a glimpse of your kingdom, amen.”

He sat silent and stared at the ground beneath us as I wondered what was this call that he spoke of, or what kingdom exists, and does God even have eyes? If he did, then why am I sleeping in a tunnel covered in filth wearing trash for clothes? For the first time in my life, I intended to speak to God. “Why me?” I uttered.

Thinking it was him I asked, the stranger responded. “You matter. You exist for something bigger yet you block yourself from seeing Truth. Your purpose is magnificent yet you equate your worth to nothing.” 

Tears fell from my eyes as those unembellished words seemed to tear through the air. I knew he was crazy but I guess I was starting to believe this wasn’t a chance encounter. After wishing me the best, the stranger had once again left me alone. 

Later that night, I found a public shower. I rinsed my clothes the best I could and scrubbed my shoes with the bottom of my torn pant leg. I washed my face and wrung the water from my soaking shirt. I walked towards the bustle of the city streets and felt a sense of renewal. It occurred to me that I hadn’t attempted to clean myself or even enter a new area of the city in months. I felt stuck and enclosed despite the large area of the subway I called home. It usually kept me fed and I always ended up finding something to drink some way or another. I didn’t want to go back to that tunnel. I strode through the crisp air, felt the moonlight and took in the sounds of voices and traffic. Despite feeling lost and scared, I didn’t feel alone.

I reflected on whether this was God. Interesting muse, I thought. But just as that thought wisped away, I saw him. The stranger sat below the bus station catwalk on a dirty blanket. His smile pierced the air so much that it was the only thing I noticed at first. Then it dawned on me that he, too, was homeless. My heart leapt with confusion and joy as I marched towards him. He glanced towards me, taking heed of my presence.

“Tony!” He called with a liberating cheer. As I got closer he more or less impulsively asked, “can I pray for you?”

I broke down in tears and painfully inquired, “Please tell me how it can possibly be that you’re homeless yet so happy? How can you sit here on a dirty white blanket yet God asks you to pray for a random homeless person? How can you be just like me, yet so different?”

His eyes welled as he trembled with a response, “Tony, look around. I’m wealthier than I could hope for. Look at this gift He bestowed. My only friend has come to find me despite trapping himself in a subway tunnel. My blanket keeps me warm at night, and the birds wake me with beautiful songs. To your eyes, I have nothing. In His eyes, I AM everything. To Him, we are all that He is and ever will be. I haven’t eaten this week, but I’d starve lifetimes over if only to be filled with God’s everlasting…”