The Brilliance

Yesterday morning started out on a really wonderful note: I had the blessing and pleasure of catching up with a friend over coffee.

From that point on, the day went nothing like what I could have imagined.

I headed from our Starbucks date to do some homework… at another Starbucks. I took a lap around town, not sure of where I wanted to go. Really what happened was that I wanted to go one place, and the Lord said another, and it took a few minutes of driving for me to listen and obey. I settled in with my tea and the substantial load of work I’d left myself for that afternoon. An hour later, I had read about five pages. There were so many things running through my mind – teaching, China, friends far away, research paper thoughts… My lack of progress was frustrating but also kind of humorous. As I plodded through my reading on economic ethics, I found myself looking around at the people in the shop, and noticing the goings on outside.

Suddenly a flock of very diverse humans emerged from a nearby restaurant, and they filed past the window on their way back to their office. I couldn’t tell you why it was so delightful to me, but my joy did not go unnoticed.

“I love that something most people didn’t notice just brought you so much joy that it made me happy by proximity.”

He spoke quickly, and the background noise made it a little difficult to understand his words. He compared the people to ducks walking in a line, then he was talking about patterns of geese when they fly, the range of their migration, something about Richard Wagner…

I don’t know what it was exactly that led me to invite him to sit. It was likely a combination of curiosity about someone exhibiting signs of genius and concern for the other patrons caught in the crossfire of our friendly shouting over the cacophony of the coffee shop. I couldn’t understand him, and I wanted to hear what he was saying.

So, he sat down with me. And we started talking.
“I’m curious about you. What do you do? And why do you know so much about monarch butterflies?”

He loves animals, so he learns about them. And he is an economist. A brilliant one, at that. Upon hearing about my current assignment on economic ethics, he started offering tons of information, and I found myself listening to all new information about the U.S. and world economies. There were things that didn’t feel true, but since I don’t know anything about economics, I just kept making mental notes of things to look up. (It was all accurate, as it turns out.) He spoke in a way that reflected an intense amount of intelligence; he reminded me of a very good friend I had my freshman year of college.

He told me that he moved to the foothills of Colorado from Oklahoma, because he knew that when the catastrophe hits, the plains won't be safe and he plans to disappear into the wilderness. He’s afraid he’ll be lonely, but he would rather be alone than with people. He wants to divert the catastrophe by praying in a world revolution that would take us from our current course to something most closely reminiscent of the Kingdom of God.

He has beautiful dreams of “home,” of idyllic mountain scenes and safe, stable, warm homes where people care deeply about each other and contribute to the emotional and physical well-being of one another.

As I talked with him, I felt a tension growing within me, as I held his disorganized thoughts and paranoid beliefs in stark contrast to the brilliance and glory emanating from his soul. At the core of his longings were the hopes of finding home, being productive, sharing his brilliance; and they were stifled under compulsion to isolate, withdraw, and rise to anger.

He sat with me for a good portion of the afternoon; we primarily talked about his economic conspiracy theories and his survival plan, but we also spoke of God and redemption and family. He has found great comfort and solace in God, and despite early comments about Zen Buddhism, he seemed to truly understand what Jesus came to do and what that means for him now. He deeply and earnestly desires the kingdom to come.

But his family story is heartbreaking at best, and I felt the pain of his soul as he described the ways in which they destroyed and abandoned him.

As I read today about paranoid schizophrenia, I was struck by the absolute importance of stability and consistency in the home and the powerful help of unconditional love and support. He has had the opposite of that, and he expressed those longings in ways that now haunt me. I want so much better for him than what he has had; I imagine God's heart must break for him as well.

I was honored to sit with him and hear his story; I was honored to offer empathy where he has experienced rejection, to offer hope where he sees nothing good. And, as I left, he asked if I wanted to write him… He asked for my email, and I paused, then asked if instead I could have his, just in case someday I have words for him. I have his email address, and almost every kind bone in my body wants to reach out to him and be more than “another five-minute coffee shop friend” – the only kind of friend he has known lately. But as I have learned more about what it means to be kind to myself, and as I face the reality of the fear and pain that overwhelmed me once I found myself in the safety of my car… I know that I cannot offer him anything beyond the time we spent yesterday.

Anyone reading this, please join me in praying for my friend. He needs consistency, love, and understanding hope and compassion. Pray that he can find fellowship with God and people in the midst of a chaotic and lonely existence. He also wants us to pray for the transformation of humanity, so that we do not continue on the path to destruction. Amen.

I’ve learned about schizophrenia in the past, but this was my first time to be face to face with someone experiencing active symptoms (hallucinations and delusions). Honestly, I am undone by it. I see such glory and goodness in him, and it is buried in a mess of paranoia and uncontrollable emotion. I want more for him than just what medication can do; I know that because I saw him again this morning. To my great shame, I hid and made sure that he would not notice me when I walked into yet another Starbucks to have Thursday coffee with my dad. He was not the same brilliant, present man I had seen the day before. He seemed small; he had trouble walking; his eyes were cast down. It was painful to see in such stark contrast to the vitality I had seen the day before. Certainly, he seemed more calm, but it was like part of him was missing. The brilliance was gone.

There is a glory about this man… and I earnestly hope to meet him on the other side of this broken world.