I can still picture him, a young man, in his early 20’s. He usually wore a gray pinstriped suit, with a crisp white shirt. He was always smiling. “What’s he so happy about?”, I often wondered. I was working my evening job at the dry cleaners. I greeted him with, “What’ll it be, starch or no starch?”
After about a month, he invited me to his Bible Study. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” “A group of us meet every week and have Bible Study”. As I leaned over the counter with my poor excuse for a tank top and my ripped shorts, I thought to myself, “This guys got a lot of guts, asking someone like me to a Bible study!” He obviously knew nothing about me. I couldn’t be caught dead in a church, let alone in a Bible Study. Seriously, I’m the girl with the broken down life. I go to clubs and sports bars, not churches.
But he was persistent, that one. Or should I say that God was persistent. My life was a mess. Why in the world would this squeaky clean God want anything to do with a girl like me? “Okay already, I’ll go to one”. And something happened that night. I heard God’s Word for the first time in my life. And a light broke through a very dark place in my heart. His Holy Presence washed over me like a flood in the night. I realized that He died for me- a broken down mess in need of a Savior.