I really had no idea I was taking this picture. My phone does this weird thing where if you flip or bump it in a certain way, the camera app opens. Then if anything conductive brushes the touch screen, it takes pictures. Ever since I got the phone, I've viewed this feature as a useless quirk at best, an irritating memory-sucker at worst.
But today as I write, I smile because of that crazy camera. Without my knowing, it gave me the only snapshot I have of a beautiful experience I had at a busy train station.
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Quick-step down the concrete floors of Poughkeepsie train station, eyes on the prize, Tracks 1 & 3 staircase, train departing at 12:45. Bet I look crazy to the man in the orange safety jacket as I ask him where my train is. I'm wearing a full three piece suit, minus a tie, and tennis shoes instead of black dress shoes.
Train's late. Awesome, I say to myself sarcastically. As I wait where my train will (hopefully) show up, I notice a guy standing to my right. He has on a red baseball cap, and is holding a reasonably large green rolling bag. In the interests of being social (and also possibly gleaning helpful info) I ask where he's headed and if he knows if this is the right platform.
He looks up and, with a confusion clearer than the blue sky, tells me "Uh, I don't know if it is man; I'm like.. going to Hudson."
"So you're getting on the Albany-Renssalaer train then," I ask.
"Yeah, uh, I think so, I mean I'm trying to."
"What do you mean?"
"Well uh I got off a bus from Florida this morning and I've been in.. P-puh-keeepsy? Poh-kipsi? for like a few hours and my uncle's probably getting mad waiting for me."
I chuckle as he tries to pronounce my old stomping grounds' name. It's getting nearer to 12:45, and the track in front of us is still empty. Might as well have a conversation.
I shake hands with the young man, who I'll call Henry. We talk about our respective journeys to the station. I check out the tag on his luggage, and sure enough it shows a bus ride all the way from central Florida to upper New York. Turns out Henry was living in a shelter in Florida for quite some time, and finally acquired the funds for a bus ride to New York in order to reunite with his father.
But I stop our dialogue short when I learn that Henry actually doesn't have a train ticket. Apparently the ticket machines in the station don't take cash, and he didn't know how or wasn't able to buy a ticket online. Feeling led to help him out, I offer up the possibility of running over to the machines, buying Henry a ticket with my debit card, and having him give me the cash.
This really was not too well thought out of an idea; it was already about 12:45 when we ran up. We hurriedly punch the not-too-responsive touch screen and within five minutes we had obtained my new friend a seat on the bus. We start to run down to the track, but my backpack spills open. Bad luck, says Henry, as we pick it up quicker than a wink and speed away towards the platform.
But.. no train!
"Sh*t," we both say. We've missed it.
"Dang, maybe if I hadn't had us run up there, they would have taken your cash on the train," I say apologetically.
"Naw man, it's okay," Henry tells me, though I can tell it probably isn't. He told me earlier that his uncle, who he's supposed to be staying with, has the 'mind of a child.' What's more, both his uncle's and his father's living arrangements aren't the most permanent. So this additional wrinkle in the operation could result in way more stress and uncertainty.
At this point, it would have been prudent to call my mother and tell her there'd be no point in going to pick me up in Albany at 1:50. But, not remembering that it was a short train and forgetting that my mom would be departing on the forty minute drive to Albany soon, I chose instead to call Amtrak and see if Henry and I could make a transfer.
He stands there, pacing slowly around the platform as I talk to the agent. I tell her the situation, and she lets us know that the Albany-Rensselaer train will depart again at 3:45 so we could transfer onto that one. But... there's a catch.
"There's only one seat left," she says, with an empathetic air, but a 'you-figure-it-out' attitude.
I look at Henry. You know, I ponder, who really needs this train more; a teen with a part-time job which I would already be late for if I took the 3:45, or a man with very little money, no friends in the area, not a clue where he is, and a desire to just see his father again?
"You take it, Henry."
"What? No dude you don't have to do that."
"No no, c'mon buddy, just take it."
"If you're absolutely sure..."
"Ma'am, Henry will take the seat."
"Well, sir, Joseph, you wouldn't be able to transfer," the agent says, this time with an 'I-hope-you-know-what-you're-doing' kind of tone.
"Yes, I know, I don't want to transfer, I'm giving the seat to Henry here."
Pause.
"Alright, what is his reservation number?"
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So, with that, I had just done something most people would see as reckless, irresponsible, and crazy. As you read this, that may be what you're thinking. Frankly, I saw it as all those things occasionally during that time at the Poughkeepsie train station. But, something told me it needed to be done.
Will I make waves, make enemies, or even make sense if I tell you that the 'something' was God? I know these days that that sort of thing isn't exactly discussed seriously in most social circles. It's become a tad popular to dismiss Christianity, Judaism, Islam, etc, as simply delusions of grandeur which utterly ignore reason, science, and logic.
And I sympathize with this quest for reason. Often I will be the first one to ask for the science and logic behind claims by politicians, journalists, etc. Both my parents are of the science and math persuasion, and they home-schooled my siblings and me accordingly. And yet, I believe in God's Word, the Bible, and all its crazy claims.
After transferring Henry's ticket, he and I talked for a long while. He was utterly shocked that anybody would give up their seat for somebody they just met. 'You're the first person I've talked to since leaving Florida, and I just can't believe how nice you've been to me.' I smiled and told him that I was just spreading the love that God has for all of us. He sent his only Son to die, really die, to take on the penalties of every human that ever lived, and come back to life. I told Henry that God loves me so much, it just makes sense to show love to everybody else.
He stepped back, letting it sink in, then shook his head, saying he missed hearing people talk about things like that. 'Everybody talks about how science is right and all, but science doesn't really answer all the questions I have,' says Henry.
While hanging out with old friends for VBS week, I discussed literally that exact topic. My good friend Jared talked about the quest for real truth, not just scientific progress, and he let me borrow a book by Tim Keller called 'Making Sense of God.' Though I haven't gotten very far in it yet, it already is enthralling. Logic and reason only get us to a certain point. One of my favorite things Henry said to me was, "science tells me how, but not why."
Henry had an old Bible in his bag that he said he got from a war veteran. I opened it up to one of the verses the kids at VBS memorized: Romans 5:8, 'But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.' I even attempted a cheesy analogy. 'Kinda like I decided to give up my seat for you, Jesus gave up his whole life just for you; for everyone in fact.'
I had forgotten how good it felt to show compassion to someone. Though of course, it's not about making me feel good. Helping people because I'm a 'good person' or because I'm supposed to is what I want to avoid. Rather, I help people because God shows the ultimate love to me, the chief of sinners, and because I really care about my fellow humans.
You may or may not be wondering if I ever got home; the answer is yes, my mom found out there actually was an earlier train which I could transfer to, so I got back safe and sound (I even went in to work, only about an hour or so late). God worked everything out for the best. I really do believe that God meant for me to meet Henry and for me to help him find his dad. Sometimes things that at first can be labeled as 'going wrong' (like the train being late, or Henry and I missing it), really turn out to be some of the best experiences of our lives. That's a little bit like my phone, I suppose. I wouldn't have thought that the impractical shake-camera feature would make me smile, but it indeed did capture a shot from an interesting upwards perspective. And I feel that this experience has better allowed me to see things in an eternal perspective; to realize that everything happens for a reason, that God is in control of every tiny detail of our lives. And if we listen to His commands and the little voice he puts in all of us, we'll end up taking part in some amazing things.
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