From his place under the freeway bridge, Ernie watched the Christmas season unfold.

It was a little after sunset on Christmas Eve, and the dark city was dressed up in bright colors. Even the houses down in the lower section were covered with glowing points of red, green, blue, and golden amber. But the tall buildings downtown were the most wonderful of all. Like the fantastic towers of fairy-tale castles they stood tall in the black night, pushing back the darkness with lighted windows and bright holiday lights.

Ernie was cold. His tired, old body was finally giving up its hold on life, he knew. But the pain still held on tight. Like dry and brittle shards of glass, the pain chewed at his muscles and joints whenever he moved even a little.

A block and a half away, children were singing Christmas songs in front of the old folks’ home. A few blocks beyond that, the Salvation Army was having a special Christmas Eve dinner for people like him: folks who wander the streets because they have no home.

Ernie would’ve been there, too, but his old legs just wouldn’t take him. Looks like the time has come, he thought. Guess I’m gonna die under this old bridge. With that thought, Ernie let out an audible sigh as a familiar sadness stirred in his heart once more.

Death was not the worst thing, though. Being alone to die was the really awful part. Ernie was the kind of man who always liked to be around people. That’s how he got started drinking in the first place. He liked the noise of other people, the laughter and the music, and all the regular Joes he met in the bars. Somehow, being with others always made him feel more alive, like a real man with a face and a name. He liked being where people knew him by name.

“Oh, God,” Ernie said in a rasping, slurring way. He closed his eyes and prayed, “God, I know I ain’t no saint or nothin’. And I know it must be my time to die. I’m not askin’ to live forever, Lord. I don’t know why I managed to live this long. But please, God. Don’t let me be alone when it comes time for me to go.”

Children’s voices drifted out to him on the cold night wind. Ernie shifted painfully under his cover of cardboard and newspapers, trying to get a little warmer. Lifting his bottle to dry lips, he drank the last swallow of warmth that it held. He huddled, shivering, trying to go to sleep.

In his mind, visions of the city night began to merge with memories of happier days in childhood. He could see his mother smiling at him from across a hot kitchen. He could even smell the turkey and dressing, and pumpkin pie baking in the oven. Familiar stories of old Scrooge, and holiday songs about Santa Claus and Rudolf, the red-nosed reindeer, mingled in with the memories, filling his head with fanciful thoughts of Christmas.

But then the cold darkness of being totally alone overcame the warm memories. Ernie began to cry.

“Oh, God,” he called again into the darkness, “Please don’t let me die alone. Not on Christmas Eve, Lord. I know I ain’t nobody, Lord. And I never done even one good thing I can remember. But I sure could use a little company.”

A moment later Ernie drifted into troubled sleep.

Even as he slept, the cold squeezed at his painful joints, making his legs and arms twitch and jerk, restlessly. In time, the harsh sounds of the city drowned out the gentle voices of children singing. The icy darkness became filled with police sirens, honking horns, dogs barking, and frantic last-minute Christmas shoppers cursing at each other. Somewhere not far away in the night, a gunshot rang out.

The noises of the city made Ernie’s sleep fitful, but he slept on. Then something moving near his head made him wake up. Looking up, he saw a huddled figure, an old woman, sitting right next to him in the dark.

“What do you want?” he asked, “Who are you?”

“Name’s Ethel. Rhymes with Bethel, Sonny Boy,” she said, and then cackled with laughter at her own little joke. “I had come to visit with you, you old coot! But you were snorin’ so loud, you almost scared me away.”

Ernie chuckled at this. “Sorry Ethel, Honey,” he said, “Didn’t know company was comin’…” Rolling his eyes comically, he added, “Or I woulda worn a muffler.” Laughing weakly, he tried to get up.

“Oh, stay where you are,” Ethel said with a wave of her hand.

Then she turned, looking right at Ernie and said, “Say, what are you doin’ up here all by yourself on Christmas Eve, Ernie? You should be down at the Salvation Army, gettin’ some hot food in your belly and singing Christmas carols to brighten you up.”

Ernie looked at Ethel. He couldn’t place her face, and he hadn’t heard her name around town before. He wondered how she knew about him.

“I wish I was down there, Ethel. But I couldn’t make it tonight,” he said. “Can’t even stand up. My old body’s givin’ up on me. I guess I’m dyin’.”

Ethel’s eyes looked a little watery, but she smiled at him and said, “I guess maybe you’re right, Ernie. I think you better get ready to go, too. Are you ready?”

“I don’t know,” Ernie said. “How does a person get ready to die?”

“Well, for one thing, you need to be ready to meet your Maker,” Ethel said. “Do you feel like you’re ready to face God?”

Ernie thought about this. “Gosh, I don’t know. I guess I am. I never gave much thought to dyin’ or meetin’ God face to face,” he said.

“What do you think it will it be like, Ernie? What’s gonna happen when you see God?”

Ernie thought back all those years to his early childhood days, then said, “Gosh, I dunno. My old Mamma always said that God loves everybody. I remember how she always told me that God loves this old world so much that He gave us Jesus, so that anyone who believes in Him could be saved from their sins and live forever.

“They can live up there in heaven with God and Jesus.” Ernie paused, then added, “I guess my Mamma’s up there now. Sure wish I could go see her one more time before I go to the place that people like me have to go.”

“I’ll bet she’d like to see you, too, Ernie,” Ethel said. “But you’re not planning to be with her? Where do people like you go when you die?”

Ernie didn’t like talking about his life, or what would happen to him when he died. He hadn’t done much with his life. He figured that he wouldn’t be very welcomed where his good mamma was. Knowing that made the sadness, that always seemed to be with him, feel even heavier and colder in his old heart.

Yet he answered now as well as he could. He was very grateful for the company.

“No Ethel, I don’t reckon there’s anything good enough about my life, nothin’ that’ll get me into heaven,” he said. “But I do believe that God really does care about people. Guess the only hope a fellow like me could ever have would be in the Lord’s kindness, not in my miserable old life.”

Ernie paused, then said, “Not the way I’ve lived my life.” Ernie thought about all the wasted years that were forever lost now. Tears welled up as he wished he could somehow start over and do things better. But in a way, it was good to finally be done. No more loneliness. No more pain. At least not in this life.

Ethel said, “You think God will just let you in anyway, Ernie? Do you believe He has anything good to offer poor sinners who have nothing to offer Him?”

Ernie smiled a sad little smile, “No, I guess that wouldn’t be very fair to the ones who really did somethin’ with their lives, would it? Lord knows I sure don’t have anything to offer God or nobody.”

He fell silent for a minute or two, and Ethel just waited. Finally, Ernie said, “But you know, I remember what the preacher said just a few weeks ago, down there at the mission. He was tellin’ us about how God sent Jesus, His only Son, to save lost sinners. To save everybody who wanted to be with Him.

“According to the preacher, it was on a night like this, a long time ago, that God’s sweet love came down from heaven into this old world for all people. That perfect love was all bundled up in a little baby that the mamma and daddy called Jesus.

“And when He grew up to be a man, Jesus was a lot like you and me, Ethel. He just traveled around. He had no place to call His own. And He spent His days wandering from town to town, helpin’ all kinds of people and tellin’ ‘em how much God loves everybody.

“In fact, they say that Jesus loved ordinary people, and even sinners, so much that it got Him into trouble with the big wigs. He would eat and drink with common folks just like us, and teach ‘em wonderful things about God and heaven.”

Ethel turned her face to look directly at Ernie. She asked him, “What do you suppose it all means? What does the love of Jesus mean here and now, for someone like you, Ernie?”

“I’m not sure, Ethel.” Ernie said. The cold night was seeping deeper and deeper into his old bones. He shifted around under the newspaper and cardboard cover, trying to escape the icy wind. But the cold was still there. But talking seemed to at least get his mind off of it some. So he said out loud what he was thinking.

“The preacher said that Jesus shows us all our sins and washes away all our guilt at the same time. He said that Jesus can take away all the things I’ve done wrong — my wasted years, my bad thoughts, and my lies and stealin’, my dirty words — all the wrong stuff that I ever did. And he read to us where the Bible says that Jesus paid for all the wrong things people do, when He died on the cross. I never knew that before.”

Talking about these things stirred up Ernie’s childhood memories. They suddenly came back, sharp and vivid. He could see sunlit Sunday school rooms where he and other kids sat around tables, listening to stories about Jesus. And he could even hear his mother singing the sweet old songs about God’s amazing love for lost sinners.

And suddenly, all the bits and pieces started to fit together in his mind, like never before. His heart swelled with love and gratitude for his dear mother, and for all the good people through the years who cared enough to tell him about the love of Jesus. Ernie wept tears of joy as a new hope suddenly began pushing the cold darkness out of his weary old heart.

He tried several times to speak, but his throat was choked with great emotion. Finally he managed to say, “I see it now, at long, long last. It finally makes sense to me.

“When Jesus died on the cross, that was God’s way of saying that He really does love everybody — even people like you and me, Ethel. And because of Jesus, He will accept me, no matter what I ever did. I can even remember hearin’ that when I was a kid, way back in Sunday school. And after all these years, Ethel, I finally see it and I really understand and believe it.”

“I’m so glad you finally understand, Ernie,” Ethel said. She wept openly now. But something in her voice was different.

Ernie looked up at her. She had changed, somehow. Her skin seemed almost to glow. And the leathery wrinkles in her face had almost disappeared. Her dirty, stringy hair now hung in perfect curls like yellow corn silk.

Man! Ernie thought. My eyes must be goin’ fast. He turned and looked back toward the lights of the city. But all the pretty lights and even the buildings themselves seemed to be fading away in the golden brightness of a gigantic sunrise in the east. How could it be morning already? It can’t be much past midnight, he thought.

“Are you ready to go now, Ernie?” Ethel asked him. “Everyone’s waiting for you. They just now started throwing you a party when they heard you were coming home. Your mamma can hardly wait to see you again.”

Turning back to look at her, Ernie saw that Ethel really was glowing brightly now. All the wrinkles were gone. And her old, ragged clothing had been transformed into robes of purest white. But that was nothing. The woman had even sprouted wings! What kind of person was this?

“What’s goin’ on here? Who are you?” Ernie demanded to know. He suddenly felt fuzzy and warm all over. But when he looked down, he was shocked to see that he, too, was dressed all in perfect white. And he was shining! Not one bone hurt anymore. How could this be?

“I told you, already, Ernie,” Ethel said, laughing and weeping at the same time. Her face was radiant with joy and a bright, heavenly light. “My name is Ethel. Rhymes with Bethel, remember? And it’s time to go home now.”

But before Ernie could say another word, the two of them soared swiftly up, up, and up into the golden brilliance of sunlit clouds, and beyond the eternal morning into perfect day. And there, getting closer and closer, was the biggest crowd of smiling faces he had ever seen in all his long life. There must be millions and millions of them, he thought. And they were all looking right at him.

Even from a very great distance, he could make out the words. “Welcome home, Ernie! Welcome home!”

****

Author’s Note: We can be an angel. In the Bible, the word often translated as “angel” usually means messenger. And there are heavenly spirits that are angels of God, and also human beings who are angels or messengers of God. We can be a messenger of God for anyone less fortunate. We can carry the love of God to strangers. We can be there to help, to encourage, to pray with and listen to other people who need to know that God really cars for them.

Not only around the holidays, but any time during the year, we can find a way to be a help and a blessing to friends, neighbors and strangers who are in difficult times. Why not ask the Lord to guide you in how you might be His messenger in your area?

God’s powerful words to Israel, spoken through Moses so long ago, are still alive with meaning today:

“The stranger who dwells among you shall be to you as one born among you, and you shall love him as yourself; for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God.” (Leviticus 19:34)

©2004 Jim Sutton
www.goodwordusa.org