When we first met, he was a customer and I was a teller.
It was a normal transaction on a normal day, and when he left the branch I thought nothing of it and continued on with my day-to-day life.
It was months later when God reintroduced us at Hope Church, where our friendship began. From February to November, it has been a year of laughs, fellowship, serving, and loving God.
As we normally do when we’re running errands together, we talked about our walks with God. To be a baby Christian in a sea of Christians years—light years—farther in their walks leaves us feeling intimidated, scared, and unworthy. These are thoughts that have plagued me during the last few months. Not fitting in has left me feeling alone and resentful.
As the conversation came to a close, Jon said, “We each have something to offer; we can’t all the geniuses in the group.”
His words held much truth. It must have been God speaking through him, because what I witnessed that afternoon showed me the weight behind his message.
He recently resigned from the hospital. We are both familiar with the discomfort that comes with leaving. Coworkers may become unpleasant; relationships are strained. The situation itself is tense.
We walked into the hospital on a mission to retrieve his belongings. As we passed each former coworker, we were met with a warm smile. When we reached his floor, his anxiety peaked. He hadn’t seen his immediate coworkers since his impromptu departure, and he anticipated confrontation.
As the door closed behind us, we awaited the inevitable pitchforks. I watched in awe as twenty people flocked around him. Instead of burning torches, however, what I felt was sincere, immense love. It was a love built on the immeasurable joy he had brought into their lives. Their sadness emanated memories of laughter—a laughter that would disappear with their Sicilian counterpart.
An entire floor was unprepared and unwilling to see him leave. Their time together with him had been quite a gift—it was obvious in their continuous hugs and well-wishes. He brought laughter to the laughterless, joy to the joyless. Jon is a light in a dark place, and no one wanted to see him leave.
As we walked away from the sad group, I was very thankful that I was not the one having to say good-bye to him that day.
We may not all be literary scholars or worldly geniuses or experienced jack-of-all-trades. There is so much we won’t be, but it’s what we are that matters. We all have something different and beautiful to offer the world. We all have our own God-given gifts that are unique and special. When we use them, we are a light to the world for God.
Jon really is a light to everyone he encounters. I never anticipated that he would carve out such a special place in my heart, but am so thankful that God brought him into my life.
