At
this point in our mystery, for convenience, we'll call our 'watchman
in jeans', Noah. This Noah didn't have any boat or even know how to
build one. About all he had was a bike that was a wreck. But when mom
barely has money for the rent and meager groceries, your bike has to
come from the town dump, over past Shavely Street. You can imagine
what condition it was in. That's probably part of the reason people
started calling him Noah. His given name is James. He can't remember
how long it's been since they started calling him, Noah, or most
often, Noah Count. Noah still hasn't learned exactly why, that name.
Noah's
watching spot was a crevice between a trash barrel and the old Luxman
Building. He used a piece of cardboard to scrape away the broken
glass, and cans. He had propped up his wreck, I mean, his bike in a
direction for a fast get-a-way, in case he was detected. But his mind
and eyes were continually focused on the old church and all the
greenery around it.
Tuesdays
and Thursdays seemed to be the best time for him to spend 20 minutes
or so, to pull out some of the unsightly long grass along the
sidewalk. He didn't doubt it for a minute that the church had gas and
electric machines for doing the fancy cutting and trimming around the
church, but he couldn't figure out why he never saw anyone using
them. The only thing Noah could figure was the directions for using
them was too hard for anybody. Or maybe people wouldn't use them 'cuz
the church wouldn't pay them enough.
With
just a hint of a smile to himself, Noah thought of it as '20 minute
medicine'. And it isn't very easy to explain, either. The 20 minutes
he spent pulling grass and weeds on Tuesdays and
Thursdays.....well.... it just made him feel good. A couple times
he'd rode his bike past the church on Sunday mornings, and he could
hear a whole bunch of people singing and clapping their hands for
God. And when he came over on Tuesdays and pulled grass on his knees,
it was just like he'd get a lingering taste of the happiness that
happened on Sundays. And Noah Count needed some smiling spirit, that
seldom came.
Quite
often this teen in jeans, this self-appointed watchman wished he had
better clothes so he could come to the church on Sunday morning, like
a church mouse and savor the happy time singing, first hand. Oh well.
Maybe God means for lots of us to just be Noah Counts. That's a
mystery to many people, for sure. But some of our mystery remains.
What is Noah watching for? What is he expecting, specifically. What
is it in this teen's heart that would thrill him to the core?
Noah
might even ask you, if you're watching. What are you watching for?
What is it in your deepest heart that would thrill you to the core? I
hope it's more than a new bike or dinner.
