She suddenly appeared at our table and interrupted our conversation: “I hope you won’t mind if I joined you all for five minutes.”

I froze because she was a complete stranger.

My mom and aunt, on the other hand, indicated to her that she could sit with us.

The lady slid into the sofa seat next to me at the restaurant, introduced herself as “Preethi” (name changed), and sheepishly said that we’d probably noticed that she’d had one too many drinks

Since we had been sitting at the table next to her and her male companion we had definitely observed (and had quietly whispered to each other) that she was far from sober at 2 pm in the afternoon.

She told us that she was 38 years old, estranged from her family who lived in another city, and looking to seal the deal with her “guy”—but it wasn’t going anywhere. (He was supposedly waiting outside the restaurant while she chatted with us. But more than likely he had dumped her and disappeared).

She repeatedly mentioned that she loved the bond that we shared with each other.

She said that she just wanted to sit with us because “it felt like home.”

We listened to her and then advised her not to drive home by herself. We told her to make sure the guy in her life was treating her right. We encouraged her to call her mom.

But all three of us sensed in our spirits that this lady didn’t need good advice.

She needed Jesus.

She was not just intoxicated. She was broken.

Good advice could fix her immediate situation. But only Jesus’ love could heal her heart.

Finally, one of us spoke up. Very simply, we said, the bond we shared was because of Jesus. That it wasn’t religion, but it was God’s love and peace in our hearts. And we hoped that one day she could experience that too.

Her eyes were glassy. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was emotion. Maybe the alcohol made her emotions rise to the surface. She sat with us for about ten minutes, hugged us, told us that she loved us, and said goodbye.

It was a strange encounter (to say the very least!). I don’t know if she will even remember it tomorrow.

But I hope she does.

I hope she remembers that family is important and that she should call her mama.

I hope she remembers that she deserves to be treated with kindness.

But more than anything I hope she remembers that Jesus loves her right in the middle of her brokenness.

As we met Preethi today, I was struck once again by God’s astounding grace in rescuing me from the absolute chaos and stink and muck of this world. But I was also struck by how much I needed to share that love.

Here’s the thing, friend: Love shouldn’t prompt you and me to just give good advice. Love should prompt us to share about the Good Shepherd.

We’re all going to encounter Preethis in our lives. They may not decide to sit with us at a restaurant. They may not wear their heart on their sleeve. But maybe beneath the surface is a heart that is crying out to be accepted. A heart that wants to feel at home. A heart that needs to encounter the love of a God who was broken so that we could be healed.

Would you say a quick prayer for “Preethi” today? In a city of 13 million people, she could be anywhere. But we pray to a God who knows her by name, who sees exactly where she is, and calls her to Himself.

Even as we say grace over a meal, may we also extend the grace we’ve received and share the reason for the hope we have. Even as we break bread together, may we point the hungry to the Bread of Life. Even while we give good advice to those who are floundering, may we also speak of the Good Shepherd who leaves the 99 and goes in search of the one lost, helpless, wandering sheep.

 

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