You have to understand, this is not a normal occurrence for me. Past sewing exercises have left me with bleeding thumbs and tangled threads. I can do buttons and other basic things…kind of. That’s why it was a good thing all I was asked to do was sew on a patch.
We were back at Sisters of the Road and had run into our friend Zimm. He’s a young street teen with beautiful skin and an affinity for eyeliner. He’s going to be a looker when he’s older. At the time, he was sitting across the table from me, poking his fork into whatever looked good from the assortment of plates and bowls in front of him. There were separate bowls of beans and rice; steaming plates of sloppy joes, vegetarian or otherwise. His appetite was just like that of any other teenage boy: super-sized.
Zimm had just gotten a headband from Hot Topic. He wanted to look older, so he had obtained a skull patch to put on it. That’s where I came in. For all his skills, Zimm can’t sew. He handed me a sewing kit from one of the local hotels. I didn’t know if it was stolen or bartered for or what. It didn’t really matter in the long run anyway.
I worked on the patch during lunch. Whitney, Taylor, Zimm and Josh chatted, debating over which superhero they would be. Every once in awhile Zimm would check on my progress, hoping that it was almost finished. What he didn’t know was that I was praying over his patch; asking each stitch to bring some sort of a blessing in his life or bring him closer to finding Jesus.
That’s what everyone needs. The drug addict. The business man. The bum. The high school math teacher. The prostitute. The barista. The pimp. The Sunday School teacher. They all need Jesus. They need his love. They need strong arms to hold them up and comfort them during the darkest hours in their souls. They need a well-spring of joy to bubble in their heart, spilling out into their lives. They need Jesus.
If I can show Jesus to Zimm by sewing on an ugly patch; I’ll do it. But the question is: how can you show Jesus to someone?
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