“Get out of my shop! I don’t need people like you around me! And never come back!” My lips quivered as I looked into the dark, angry eyes of the yelling man. I blinked back the unbidden tears, realizing that once more, I had to leave this man that I loved. All night I could sense that we were coming to this, and I had tried so hard not to let it happen. With one last attempt, I feebly yelled above the tension, “Ken, we don’t want to ...” but once more, I was rudely cut off. With slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, I turned to escape the confines of his dingy, pawn shop, his ever-crescendoing voice drowning the last hope of respite.
The lingering smell of smoke and the echo of his angry voice joined the troubled thoughts of my emotionally overwrought mind, as I slowly walked up the street. “What do you think, Josh?” I asked my faithful, quiet friend.
“I don’t know, " he responded, and we fell back into silent anguish at the outcome of our supposed Bible study, grasping for an explanation for the terrible response. What could we have done differently? Why could he not accept the truth? What lay behind those flashing eyes, and what memories are stored beneath his ever-crowning beanie?
Ken was born on a country farm in the rolling hills of Schuylkill, Pennsylvania, a splendid place for a curious and adventurous little boy to live.
When Ken was four years old, his parents separated. He had heard them fighting a lot, but he didn’t know that it was possible for Mom and Dad to separate. It crushed his heart and confused his innocent soul. He did not know how to handle the stress and change that was tossed on his peaceful life.
The terror and confusion of his mom hurriedly packing their belongings, loading him and his siblings in the car, and driving away are still riveted in his mind. It made no sense! Why couldn’t they just go home? In his musty bedroom at their little, dingy apartment, he lay staring at the moldy ceiling, wondering endlessly what had gone so wrong.
Ken soon adjusted to his new home in the city of Pottsville with only cars, people, and sidewalks instead of cows, frogs, and mud. But fate did not leave the small security his new lifestyle provided him. His mom was not able to properly care for him and his siblings, and so the children were placed in different foster homes. That was even worse than leaving Dad! The clothes he wore were the only things familiar to him. Instead of understanding and loving him, each new family brought more yelling, hatred, and beating. Terror, tears, loneliness, and pain accompanied him.
Ken thought the second foster home that he was placed in would be a safe, loving home. The dad was tall and strong and appeared to be gentle. The mom was overweight, but her friendly smile resolved his fears. But the first night, when he reached for the food, he accidentally dumped a cup of water. She screamed at him and told him that he was worthless, and she wished they had never gotten him. The dad continued eating as if he didn't hear or care. Why didn’t the strong man stop her?
That evening, Ken crawled into his big, strange bed, already crying in loneliness, when he heard the mom yell. He quickly jumped out of bed and, with trembling legs, slipped behind the door to hide. She charged up the stairs bellowing angrily, and Ken was sure that he was in trouble. To his relief, she continued down the hall. He was still too scared to leave his hiding place for fear of receiving a beating. He wiped his tears as he began to sing under his breath a song he had heard in Sunday school, “Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world.” He stopped to think, and his crying quit. “Then why am I here? " he wondered. “Have I done something wrong? God must not love little children. That song is not true! If God loved me I would not be here!" With that conclusion, he burst into tears and lost hope in God. He woke the next morning, still hidden behind the door.
Darkness had long fallen, and my family was all peacefully sleeping in our old farmhouse. I cried myself to sleep, crying for Ken's soul, crying because I didn’t know what to do, crying because my friend, the man I longed to see at peace with God, hated me.
Ken continued to fire questions. “How can God be good and allow so much bad? How could God let children suffer?” I listened on as he continued saying the same things that I heard so many times before, giving me no chance to talk.
Again, it was time to leave, and I was so glad to do so. He kept talking as we backed out the door. Once more, my friend and I walked up the street —tired, frustrated, and wishing never to come back.
Ken was 13 years old, and his life was no better than it had been when he was first put into the foster system. His life was in turmoil. He was continually yelled at and belittled at home. Ken was tired of crying. No one cared, and there was no one with whom he could share his problem. That’s when he came up with his clever plan. His school friend was a hippie, and his parents traveled a lot. They were called Gypsies. He heard that they were headed to California. So, Ken told them about his terrible life and asked if they would give him a ride. They were glad to help.
That exciting morning, he just did his usual thing. He left for school and instead went to California. He didn’t mind leaving all his stuff behind—he really didn’t have much anyway. His foster parents didn’t even care that he left.
In California, Ken lived on the beach and worked for fishermen, and whoever else needed help. He always had enough to eat and something to do. He had his fellow beach bums, but he was still alone inside. His heart was still empty. He longed for love.
Ken lived on the beach for a year and a half and then hitchhiked to Arizona. There he found a home in a homeless shelter and got a job. He did well and soon was on his own, but his search for love took him down the wrong roads. Ken really wanted to be married to a loving wife and have a family, but the girl he married did not marry him because of love. She was hurt, and Ken’s own hurt soul was attracted to her. They got married and all was well for a few years until he found out that his wife was seeing other men. His heart was broken, and his world was thrown into turmoil. Ken wanted desperately to provide security for the children that were born to them, and so he tried his best to stay together. He did not want to put his children through the life that he experienced. But after eight rough years, they got a divorce.
Ken moved on and tried to recover from the devastation of the divorce. His search for love brought him only more sadness and pain. Since Ken was hurt and unhappy, he found satisfaction in making others happy. He spent all his money on them, and when he had nothing more to offer, they left.
Now Ken is sitting in his pawn shop, alone, hurt, sad, and hiding. He found through his sad life that no one cared. Every time that he opened himself to love, he was always hurt. Deep down inside, he truly felt that God did not care. He lost hope in God, people, and last of all, he lost hope in love itself. That is why we were still visiting the dingy, smoke-stained shop after six years of very little apparent success. God kept bringing us back. He put in us a persistent love and relentless burden for this wounded soul. That is why we spent many hours hearing the same criticisms over and over. The same problems, the same confusion.
Nearly every month, he would fluctuate between hope and despair, love and hate, new life in God, and sadness and sin. We never knew what the next visit would bring. We could be swelling with hope and filled with blessing, or torn with angry words and sickened with dread. But we kept going back, and slowly he emerged from the pit of despair, and slowly allowed himself to be wrapped in the wonderful love of God and the glorious message of His redeeming grace. It was amazing to see the change in his life and to hear his ever-growing confidence in the love of Christ.
Today Ken loves the Lord. He is learning to walk with God. He has seen the love of God. He has found hope in God. He has experienced the unconditional love of God. He is still growing, and we are excited to see what God has for him.
I’m so glad that God brought Ken into my life. God had a plan for Ken and I. God wanted to show Ken that He loved him and that He would be there for him even when Josh turned his back on Him. God also wanted me to carry a burden in my youth. He knew how easily I would be distracted with money and fun. He knew that I needed a burden to carry, a soul to care for. He wanted me to be able to see beneath the shell of a hard soul and see a hurting child within. He wanted to give me a burden too big for me to carry so that I would learn to lean on Him. And most of all, He wanted to equip me to serve Him in broader ways.
Fellow Christians, open your lives to the work of God. Find an opportunity to love a hurting soul. Search out someone who needs a friend and love them, and wait and see what God has in store for you. Love until it hurts so badly that you don’t know what to do, and then turn to Jesus, who is there to help you through. God may be waiting for you to make the first step before He will use you. Your life is before you. You can choose to live a comfortable, happy life, or you can open yourself up to be hurt and find that after years pass, your life is overflowing with meaning and purpose. Jesus opened Himself to the pain and anguish of this world, and only through that do we have hope. He is asking us to follow His example, to open ourselves to pain so that others can have hope. And as He was glorified, so will we be glorified, in some measure, someday, and we will never regret the pain that we faced.
