Jesus in Any Language | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Jesus in Any Language | Previous Challenge Entry
By LaRue Kendrick
02/28/13
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Jesus in Any Language

LuAnn sat at her desk staring out the window, thinking about how much she needed to do when she got home after her morning job. It hadn’t been very busy today at the church office where she was the secretary/office manager, and she had time to organize the afternoon in her mind.
She would fix a nice meal for their son, Jason, and his family who came to eat with her and Nick each week on Thursday evening. There was bread to pick up at the grocery store on her way home, the desert to be made, and don’t forget to make cold tea too.

All of a sudden, she was shaken from her thoughts by someone calling loudly for help – at least that’s what she thought they were saying. She bolted from her chair and hurried to the front door where a man sat slumped against the foyer wall with his hand and arm covered in blood. The blood was pumping out into a pool at his side. Her eyes grew wide as she blurted out, “Just stay right here. I’m going to call 911, and then I’ll try to slow down the bleeding.”

He mumbled something, but all she could understand was something about accident and help and Jesus. After the phone call, she laid her cell phone next to her as she kneeled on the floor with some towels from the kitchen. It was hard to slow the bleeding even with pressure. “Please hurry,” she whispered to herself, wanting to hear the siren bringing help. Then she came to her senses and prayed, “Dear Lord, please don’t let this poor man bleed to death before help can get here. I really need you. Show me how I can do a better job of stopping the bleeding. I need to know right now.” Suddenly, she remembered about pressure on an artery in his upper arm. She struggled to open the man’s jacket so she could gain access to the vital area. He just looked at her as the bleeding slowed noticeably with pressure against the artery.

“Good” and maybe “thank-you” was all she could understand of his words. She tried to figure out what kind of accent he spoke in. Maybe Spanish, maybe Italian; she just couldn’t be sure. She smiled back at him.

“God is helping us. May I pray with you?”

His color was so pale it frightened her, but he slowly nodded his head. She held his arm tight even though her fingers were cramping. “Dear Lord, thank you for bringing this man here so I could help him. You are here with us and are bringing more help so his wounds can be treated. Thank you so much for caring for us. Please bring help soon. Thank you because we know you are going before us to bring the help we need. Amen.”

He rolled his head her way, smiled weakly and patted her arm with his good hand. “You good lady.”

In the distance, she heard the far off siren growing closer. She breathed a sigh of relief and a prayer of thankfulness. He patted her arm again acknowledging his own relief.

As the paramedics came through the door and began questioning the wounded man as to what happened to cause his injuries, he uttered words that were nearly unintelligible. They looked to LuAnn for help, but she could only shake her head. His accent was so strong, and he had become so weak. Then when she thought he would lose consciousness, he rallied, and looking her in the eyes said, “Jesus.” This might not have meant anything to the paramedics, but she knew it was his way of reassuring her that he knew Jesus was with him; Jesus, the name that brings hope in any language.

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