Update #4.3 - The #10 Chess Player in the World

After lunch, we headed back to Fountain Square, where chess tables abounded. Taking our seat at the only one in the shade, Michael and I started a game to discuss our next strategy and perhaps draw in some passersby. The first interested periwanderer was a news reporter, and before long, Michael was being filmed answering a question about public prison overpopulation. Next was Jack - an undoubtedly homeless man who turned his handheld radio up as loud as possible as he approached us. At first, I didn't expect a conversation with Jack to go very far - his answers were brief and he was only focused on chess - "I'm the #10 player in the world, you know."

"The world? really?"

"Well...Ohio."

I was losing anyways, so we cleared the board and started a new game with Jack. He was as friendly as can be and despite his continual use of expletives -some of the day's most pleasant company. Finally we got him on the subject of spiritual matters. "We're followers of Jesus," I said, as the game was wrapping up. "Do you know about Jesus?" Jack pulled something out of his pocket - a blue card with the name and address of a church at the top. "Oh good!" I exclaimed. "Do you go to church here?" He didn't. "Well, you should go this Sunday - look they meet at 10:00 in the morning. You think you can make that?" He couldn't.

Eventually, we asked him about his reading abilities. "O yes, I can read. But I don't have any reading glasses," he explained. "Well if we bought you some glasses, would you promise to read a book we give you." At this he was excited. "I promise," he assured us. So off we headed to the CVS with Jack as our guide.

30 minutes later found us in what Jack called a "park." Sitting on a bench, we gave him one of the copies of the Bible Michael had wisely packed that morning (an ESV this time). We read some passages to him, explaining the Gospel, and before long, he was saying things like "Look up Acts 4:12 - I can't remember what it says, but I remember it is good." Jack, we discovered, was almost as familiar with the gospel as Doug. About that time, a friend of his walked by.

"Pam, are you alright? Pam?" Clearly she was not. "Come talk with these friends of mine," invited Jack. "We're telling him about the hope of the Gospel," I added. Pam looked at us and shook her head.

For the next few minutes, Pam wandered around nearby as if she wanted some interaction but wasn't quite up to it yet. Eventually it started to drizzle. "Rain's not a bad thing," explained Jack. "No, not at all," I said. "In fact, I love the rain." SCHIZZAAPPPOWWWWWW! Lightning struck nearby and our drizzle suddenly turned into the Cincinnati version of a monsoon.

The three of us ran to a parking garage to avoid a complete soaking. Providentially, Pam was there as well.

Again, Jack asked her if she was alright, and it soon became clear that she had been beaten that morning by her husband. "We're about to go get Jack a sandwich...do you want to join us?" we asked. No answer. "Yeah. Come on Pam," said Jack. "These are nice people, come get a sandwich with us." Again, no answer. "What's your name? Can we pray for you?" At this, Jack lit up. "Let them pray for you, Pam." She nodded her head and so we took her hand and bowed.

This time, Michael said the prayer, again laying out the gospel in it - "Thank you Lord for your love - for providing hope for us in a messed up world - in times when life doesn't make sense. Thank you for suffering for our sake and sending your son Jesus...." When we finished praying, Pam had physically brightened. What looked like a countenance ready to burst into tears any moment now looked like a face almost on the verge of a smile.

We left the two of them with each other and a sandwich apiece. Still a little shocked about how the day had turned out, we were please with the direction our conversation had turned.

~Alan Halbrooks