Well, he wasn't really Jesus, but he sure looked like him. Jesus talking in a London Cockney accent. Nothing unusual. I was still but fourteen and wandering around downtown just four days past Christmas. I was spending gift money and I simply wanted to be downtown and far away from the dull boring mall in dull boring Richmond. It was damp and chilly and threatening rain.
There used to be an Eaton's department store over where I met him, an attractive heritage building on Hastings Street between Seymour and Richards. I slipped in through the front doors, only to feel somehow pulled back out. I didn't know it at the time but the Holy Spirit was leading me, directing me to a chance encounter that would dramatically transform my life and hugely alter the direction I would be taking.
Because of his accent I didn't quite understand what he was saying. It sounded something like, "Do you know the direction to Seven Cheeses?" I had to ask him to repeat himself three or four times before I heard what he was really saying: "Do you believe in Jesus (pronounced 'Jayzuz").
He was a bit on the tall side, dark shoulder length hair and beard. He looked almost exactly like Jesus, speaking like a London Cockney. We stood on the corner and talked for several minutes. He had a big, sincere and earnest smile on his face and was describing to me with great animation of how God through Jesus Christ had transformed his life. There was no doubting his sincerity and I accepted what he was telling me.
Because I was feeling cold and a bitter wind had picked up I asked if we could move the conversation to a coffee shop nearby. He directed me to a basement café across the street. We must have sat there talking for almost two hours. What really struck me was his candor and what I can only recall as authenticity. This was a man who would speak only the truth and describe as transparently as possible his experience of the truth. He swore sometimes, which actually endeared him to me. There was with this man absolutely no pretence of holiness or moral or spiritual superiority. And, to my great surprise, he talked to me not as though to a kid, but to an adult, a peer. He was twenty-one years old, I was fourteen. I also learned that our birthdays were but one day apart.
The Cockney Jesus invited me to his house for dinner, where he lived with several other young men, all Jesus Freaks. The atmosphere of the house was something I had never before encountered. It was a very simply furnished tall old house in the Fairview slopes. The dinner was simple but tasty and the people kind, good-humoured and genuine. I felt as though I had just smoked a couple of joints as I became almost delirious with such a sense of wellbeing I had never known before. I commented about this and the Cockney Jesus replied that I was experiencing the Lord's presence. That evening I heard and accepted the call that God had on my life.
We continued in contact, frequently meeting for coffee. Throughout these visits I felt always treated as an equal, with complete camaraderie, respect and tact. Twice he visited my home. The first time was New Year's Eve, falling a watch night service I had attended in a church in the Strathcona neighbourhood. The Cockney Jesus and one of his comrades drove me home to Richmond. I invited them in to visit, since my mother was away for the night and my brother out partying. My brother came home soon after with a friend. They were mocking and dismissive of my new friends, but after they left my brother couldn't stop commenting about the sweet fragrance, like perfume that he could smell in the house. I could smell nothing but to this day I suspect that he was picking up on a sense of the presence of the Holy Spirit that my new friends had left behind.
They came over again the next day, New Year's Day. There had been a baptism at English Bay, despite the cold weather. I declined being baptized having converted but three days ago and feeling in no way ready to seal my commitment. The Cockney Jesus and friend gave me a ride home to Richmond. Mom and my brother had just eaten dinner and she greeted with hostility my new friends. The Cockney Jesus' friend called her an evil woman, but CJ was considerably more tactful. after they left she admitted that she liked him and found him pleasant and intelligent. She couldn't stand his friend, seeing him as stupid and rude, which he was. She also forbade me to have anything further to do with these people. Of course I disobeyed and my ordinarily strong and powerful mother soon found that she was no match for the will of God.
I became more involved with the Jesus People but had less time for the Cockney Jesus. We were both okay with this. We liked and respected each other but as he admitted he was simply God's instrument for seeing that I got saved, for which he felt tremendous honour. I greatly admired him for his ability to let me go and set me free to walk the path that God set out for me.
Eventually, the Cockney Jesus became involved with the dangerous apocalyptical cult that swallowed up the Jesus People. This for me was saddening, since I was able to see through them right away and made a quick escape. He was frail and imperfect but this made him no less a channel of God's love and peace.
The Cockney Jesus has left me with a lasting legacy. I learned from him early in life and at the very beginning of my Christian journey the vast importance of candour, sincerity, unpretentiousness, and courage. Especially I learned from him the supreme value of respect. I strive to this day to honour what he has given me.
No comments:
Post a Comment