I'd be lying if I didn't admit to fearing the worst. And I could never in a million years articulate the relief I felt when my husband walked through the doors almost 30 minutes later. But, I can share with you God's divine providence. The man's name was Charles. He disclosed that he had been in some really dark places in his life... but, none as dark as the one he found himself in at this very moment. The smell of alcohol from his breath was impossible to ignore. The injuries he had somehow sustained left him almost incapacitated. From the moment he entered our car, he cried the entire way to his house... confiding to my husband that just moments earlier he was thinking of ending his life. And it was then that my husband shared the message of hope that was only shared with us an hour before. My husband presented the Gospel, the message of hope, to someone so broken that there seemed no escape except to end his own life.
By the time they reached his house, Charles seemed to be in a better place. He extended his hand to shake my husband's... and it was then that my husband saw the tattoo that ran across Charles' hand: Satan. Even now, it takes my breath away.
As Charles exited our car, he thanked my husband for his time and even contemplated the possibility of discovering a new friend. How God must smile (and Satan must scream in disgust) at the thought of someone so lost being given the Hope of Christ. This is why Jesus overcame the grave. This is what we have been commissioned to do... to spread the love of Christ to a broken world. And the fact that this opportunity... this gift... was presented to us on the day we celebrate the resurrection of our Lord and Savior is not lost on us.