I had spent over a year witnessing to Paul, telling him in a thousand different ways that the spirituality he felt and the oneness he felt with nature would not get him into Heaven. Finally about 2 months back he had come to the very end of his rope. I, and several others, had been praying earnestly for him that he would finally see the truth. Once at the end of his rope he caved, saying he wanted what we had, he knew there was something to it. He came together with me and we prayed, he confessed his need for a Savior and asked Christ to forgive him of his sins.
Immediately I felt a strong urge. It couldn't be explained in any other way except that I was certain it was God. This old man, Paul was his real name, was sick. He wasn't physically capable of holding down a job and was too stubborn to go to a hospital. He had no contact with family that we knew of and he was desperately alone. I invited him to live out his days in my home. I was scared, and not even sure he would accept, but I made certain he knew my offer was sincere. I picked a date a few weeks from that day and said if he'd only agree I'd drive out to Arizona (where he's from) and pick him up.
He refused. He said he'd never be able to repay that kind of debt, so he would continue on his own. I received this e-mail just days ago:
I wanted to let you that furr a.k.a Paul who visited #handsaroundtheworld frequently was found dead in his apartment, August 20th. Please keep his family in prayer. Lindy
I can't tell you how many different wishes have gone through my mind since I received this e-mail. The greatest of all my wishes, is a heartbroken wish that this hardened man, so stubborn and prideful, yet so obviously broken and lonely... I just wish he hadn't of been alone.