DIRECTOR'S BLOG

Dr. Sam Martin

'I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!' Matt.25 v 40.

It was a beautiful evening and we had just walked around the lake then decided to sit down and enjoy a cold soft drink. As we talked, we heard a voice from behind us shouting, “How are you doing?” We looked behind and saw a man sitting on a bench with a beer in his hand. We responded by asking him how he was doing and there was some small talk. He then said, “I am sorry I did not mean to interrupt you.”

We assured him he was not interrupting us and we got up and walked over to him, introduced ourselves and shook his hand. He was delighted to say the least. My wife began to ask him about his life, where he lived, what he was doing. He graciously shared his story summing it up with thees words, “this has spoiled my life” and he held up the can of beer. He looked old and worn, but we discovered he was only 56. He had a son but had no idea where he was. He lived in a rooming house, which he described and our hearts just broke. Obviously we asked him what we could do to help him. Could we buy him a meal, a coffee … he looked at us and said “you are so kind, but I am fine, I don’t need anything, I did not start speaking to you to ask for something…”

My wife spoke to him about the Lord, encouraged him to find a good Church where he would be loved and we promised to do what we could to help. After while, we assured him we would pray for him and we reached out our hands and blessed him. His response was simple, honest and sincere and his words I can still hear: “thanks so much for talking to me … that was special.”

As we waved by to him, we wondered what we could do to help and yes, we realized there were many more people like out new friend Lawrence. It might surprise you but the words of the old Beatles song ‘"Eleanor Rigby" came to mind:


‘All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?’


For years as a Pastor, as the Director of the Mission, with my wife’s support we have given our lives to help lonely, hurting broken people. This, not because we feel sorry for them, but because we know that but for the grace of God, it could be us on that lonely park bench. It could be us rummaging through the dump looking for scarps of food. It could be us lying in some dark alley. We know that Jesus died for them, that He loves them and because of Him, we reach out, we give, we share. We want the lonely people of our world to know they belong, like the children we work with through The Arms of Jesus.


Since that experience, just a few evenings ago my wife Margaret has been praying for Lawrence, as I have, and we knew we had to do something more than tell the story and pray. In front of me as I type this Blog is a brown paper napkin with the name and address of Lawrence on it – written down by my wife. She asked me to do something, so first thing this morning I sent an email to the Salvation Army in the town where we had met our friend, asking if they would try and meet him and let us know what can be done to help. Now we wait for a response.


My prayer is that the words of this blog will not be like the words of Father McKenzie’s sermon, words no one hears but rather they might encourage someone to do something to help `the lonely people in our world.’

Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people


Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?


All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?


Father McKenzie writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear
No one comes near
Look at him working, darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there
What does he care?


All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?


Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people


Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name
Nobody came
Father McKenzie wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved


All the lonely people (Ah, look at all the lonely people)
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people (Ah, look at all the lonely people)
Where do they all belong?