My heart is light and heavy at the same time. I am sad that John is no longer here but rejoice in the knowledge that he is with Our Lord in Heaven.
Chapter 13
One at a Time
God instructed me to witness to the hard core, one at a time. What’s hardcore? It’s easy to see in the physical realm but in the spiritual, not so easy. Remember Satan appears as an Angel of light. On most days of the week, I drive to the office in Bridgeport. I take Route 8 South, get off, make a right onto Fairfield Avenue, a left on West Street, a left on State Street and the courthouse is right there. There’s a bodega on the corner of Fairfield and West and a park across the street. It’s a very active spot. There’s drug trafficking, prostitution and homelessness. And there’s Papo (it takes me two years to learn his name). Everyday Papo’s out on the corner just standing there taking it all in. He’s a short Hispanic man with dark brown weathered skin, a nice round face and dark brown eyes that look deep. He appears to be in his mid-60s. We make eye contact every time I drove by, I mean really make eye contact. Not a quick glance and turn away but a straight stare saying okay, I see you. This goes on for two years. We never speak. I never stop. But each day we stare. Eventually we make progress in our communication and exchange slight head nods of understanding.
Towards the end of the second year, after I begin pursuing the prophetic, I start feeling a tightness in my gut as I drive by, a sense of guilt and anxiety. It’s the conviction of the Holy Spirit. I know that God has a word for Papo and I have to trust and obey. Each day it becomes harder to drive by without stopping. I start to dread turning that corner. One day in the office I tell my coworker, and Christian sister, Jane Castaldo about Papo and tell her that I’m planning on pulling over to talk to him the next day. She understandably cautions me because of the criminal activity at that spot. I tell her understand but I have to stop and ask her to be praying for me tomorrow morning.
When I pull to the side of the curb the next morning Papo is looking in a roll off trash bin behind the bodega. The corner is crowded with people as usual. When he sees me pull over and get out of my car, I can see some fear in his eyes as I approach him. I’m dressed in my typical shirt and tie, although my personal policy is to never wear a white shirt. I may be the man but that doesn’t mean I have to look like the man! Anyway, I suspect that he thinks I’m a cop because he begins backing away from me. I start with, “Hi. I know we see each other almost every day but I had to stop because God put it on my heart to pray for you.” He seems to relax and stops stepping backwards. The first sign that God’s plan is working is that Papo speaks good English, porque yo hablo Espanol un paquito solamente. Entendio mas que hablo. So here we go, just Papo, God and me. I ask Papo if I can pray for him and he says yes. I ask him if there’s anything he needs prayer for and he says no. I ask him if I can place my hand on his shoulder as we pray and he says yes. And I start praying and as I pray in general terms for a blessing over his life, I feel God telling me to place my hand over his heart. And as I continue to pray, I feel there’s pain in his heart and I pause and say, “I feel God wants me to pray over your heart, that you have a heart condition that brings on fear and causes you anxiety.” Papo’s eyes suddenly get bigger as he begins to tell me about his history of heart problems and the surgeries he’s had, including the stint that was just recently replaced. And we both rejoice. I pray for God to heal his heart and take away all his fears. Papo shares his story about his Polish wife; how they got divorced because she was tough and always yelling at him. About his two adult children, his son, who lives in Hartford and is a contractor and his daughter who is a teacher in New Haven. I learn that Papo is retired after working in the maintenance department for the City of Bridgeport for thirty years. He lives in an apartment over the bodega and knows everyone on the corner. He tries to help people and looks out for those most in need, like the prostitutes and the homeless.
Thus begins our relationship, slow at first but steady as we go. I try to stop every morning I’m going into the office. I speak to the storeowner and learn that Papo has been living above the bodega for the past twenty years. Everybody knows Papo and ever refer to the spot as Papo’s corner. I share my testimonies and faith with Papo and he makes an affirmation of faith in Christ. I start bringing a box of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee every morning so he can offer coffee to the people on the corner. I see a change n Papo. When I come by he is not longer standing around and staring but he’s talking to people. After a while Papo asks me if I have any Spanish Bibles that he can give to those who need one. A holy non-coincidence, there is a box of Spanish Bibles that’s been sitting at the Chapel since we’ve been there. I also find a bunch of English Bibles and Spanish and English Bible tracks.
Papo’s corner ministry goes on for about two years. Sometimes he introduces me to people and asks if I can pray for them. He has to shut it down during the winter, but is back the first day of spring. A new beginning, like being born again. One new spring day I see that Papo is not on the corner. For the next two weeks he’s not there. I finally stop and go into the bodega. The owner tells me that Papo died over the winter from heart failure. He adds that everyone expected him to go a few years ago, as he was constantly in and out of the hospital but the last couple of years he was healthy and happy, always giving people coffee, praying for people and handing out Bibles. My sadness lasts but a small moment and then my heart rejoices. I share Papo’s testimony at the Chapel and in the office and pray that I can see who God has for me next.
Ray Lopez, evangelist, writer, ordained minister, ministering to the hardcore, one at a time. 