I once met a young manager endowed with an entrepreneurial and artistic hybrid. I was a frequent visitor at his work and as I observed, branded by his remarkable looks, he was constantly the center of lady-attraction. There was one instance when he initiated a conversation:
JeSo: I see you frequently here. You seem to be a man of thoughts. What is your craft?
Me: Oh ... I ... teach.
Me: Well, I'd take that. I teach about ... life.
JeSo: I have tons of questions ... do you have time to talk?
That was the start of a conversation which led to a friendship with a man whose search for a good fight led to a willing surrender.
It was close to Valentines when I offered him free tickets to a night of love songs. The Renaissance ballroom was full. The steak was good. The music was classy. He came fashionably late with his gorgeous girlfriend.
JeSo is the sort of a man who goes deep. His gym work goes insane. He spots for minute muscular tones. His physique only equals the graphic genius of his craft. That night, our conversation hovered on the nuance of redemptive love.
I never disclosed my work as pastor and so when I rose to speak during intermission, he was mildly chagrined.
He began understanding life through the context of War and Peace. JeSo used to live his life with all sorts of battles. He saw the ineptness of any human effort to win against forces that one cannot even see.
Someone had to fight his battles. Someone whose scars and wounds have been shed for cred.
Recently, he confided about incessant battles that are insidiously pressing him down. I had to remind him that the war is over.
The scary nemesis are mere drawings with no real gravitas.