A Fable of A Town That Needed Jesus

On the margins of the carnival beyond the view of revelers a silent figure entered on the breeze. Cloaked in mediocrity the figure blended like shade to night with no one watching but the distant trees. He surveyed the scene. Then quietly he walked with casual purpose into the crowds, their attention focused anywhere but on the face of this interlocutor invading their midst, camouflaged by the ordinariness reflected in their own lives. He was one of them, or so they assumed.

Nondescript in his jeans and t-shirt underneath a blue windbreaker, he mingled among the jostling sea of humanity. They mostly ignored him. To many of them he was a nobody, no one worth considering. Their concerns focused more with the performers, the games, the rides, the sights and sounds, and especially their friends. He was just an ordinary individual, not worthy of their attention in the midst of all the celebratory action surrounding them.

But to him, they were important. Silently he prayed for them. He smiled at the few who made eye contact with him, but they turned away quickly. He prayed anyway, asking God to bless them and make himself known to them. His physical appearance was quite ordinary. A mop of sandy brown hair, not terribly well cut, attempted to fend off the receding hairline. Hints of scars betrayed the marks of lost battles with youthful acne. Deep set eyes hid underneath a forehead scarred by a childhood accident.

He wondered at the lostness of so many in this group. Their attention to fashion and the newest electronic gadgetry as badges of social importance were not lost on him. Sad. He prayed all the more, intermingling his intercession with worship to the Lord God whose presence he felt. Strolling through the walkways he noted the many booths striving to call for his attention. Darts, football throws, games of chance, bumper cars, face painting, food booths, fortune telling, the local radio station blaring country music's latest hits, basketball toss, ring toss, miniature roller coaster, hammer head, ferris wheel, planned parenthood with their free jar of condoms and dubious advice, livestock petting zoo, art displays, live action shows, and so on.

Frustrated at his inability to start a conversation, as had been his hope, he pondered how he can impact those around him with the gospel of Jesus Christ. He lamented his shyness. And then he noticed, in the distance, the carnival worker trying to pick up all the refuse thrown to the ground by the crowds. An idea formed in his mind. Walking up to the employee, he asked for a pair of plastic throw away gloves, like the worker was wearing. The elderly woman looked at him, shrugged, and pulled out a pair from her coat pocket. He put on the gloves and then set out to help her in cleaning up the garbage. She looked at him in shock. And then smiled. She had not smiled since her husband died last year, leaving her to fend for herself. And so together they worked at the overwhelming task of cleaning up the garbage.

They did not speak. They simply worked in silence. He, in his shy but sincere earnestness. She, with a smile she had forgotten was possible in the midst of her personal heartache and loneliness. As they worked together, a group of five people in the crowd noticed the man's gesture. As regulars at the carnival they knew of the woman's personal tragedy. They looked at each other. Tears formed in their eyes. Despite the piercings in their faces and their goth clothing, they cared about the woman. She was the only one who never gave them grief for how they looked. And now this stranger, the one they thought looked like a goofball and whom they had laughed at after he had passed by them, was helping someone they respected. And he made her smile, something they had never been able to do since her husband's death.

So they did the only logical thing. They joined in to help with the clean up. Shoulder to shoulder, they worked with the young man and the elderly carnival employee, picking up the garbage, some of which they themselves had thrown aside in their laziness. This gesture by the punk rockers did not go unnoticed. A group of ten high school cowboys, normally enemies of the punk rockers, saw them go to help the strange man and the female worker. They respected her. She had always been honest with them about right and wrong. And now the punkers and goths were helping her while they stood there wondering what to do. "Well if they can do it, so can we," they said to each other. With tears shielded by hats pulled low they came along side the growing group and began to help.

And so it was that the carnival transformed from revelry to mass cleanup within a space of an evening. As the crowds noticed the gesture of the goths and cowboys and various other sub groups, they also pitched in. The only person who was angry about the entire turn of events was the midway supervisor, who lamented the loss of revenue. By day he worked as the town mayor and Chief of Police, but by night he moonlighted at the normally profitable carnival. Yet his anger was short lived when he saw his mother smiling for the first time since dad had died. He began to cry, his weathered face melting with tears of gratitude for whatever had caused his mother to experience a newfound joy in life. In the midst of the crowds, who by now had all agreed to pitch in to clean up their long neglected carnival grounds, the elderly woman stood with the strange man. The midway supervisor rushed to her, and hugged her tightly. He then pulled back, and looked with curiosity at the young man, who seemed to blush shyly under the scrutiny of not only a person of his stature in the community, but also the entire crowd.

"Why did you help her?" he asked. His tone was not accusing, merely curious. The man replied, "Because she seemed sad and there was so much work to be done. But also because I want to follow the example of Jesus Christ in loving others even when they do not love me." The crowd murmured at his words uncomfortably. As the Mayor and Chief of Police began to take exception, his mother placed her hand on his arm, silencing him. And then the leader of the goths and the leader of the cowboys stepped forward together, their respective groups following closely behind. "You have helped us see the pettiness of our long held struggle against each other. Could you please tell us more about this Jesus?"

And so he did, in his own simple way, with the woman whom they all respected at his side. He told them of the hope that is in Jesus and the free gift that is offered to them, just as he had freely offered to help the woman clean the grounds.

The carnival was never the same again. Nor the town. Nor the many families who were impacted that night. The woman died later that week, having professed faith in Jesus Christ, starting a flood of others bowing their knee to Jesus Christ in the midst of the carnival grounds.

The Planned Parenthood group gave notice that they could not in good conscience participate in this carnival ever again. Evidently the workers attending the booth had abandoned it to give their hearts to Christ as well.

The fortune teller ran off the grounds screaming and cursing as they began to pray to accept Christ as Savior. Her booth was immediately taken down. She died in an auto accident on her way home. The town wept.

The goths and cowboys began to meet together for Bible study. They formed a church under the leadership of the young man. While there still remains hostility among other goths and cowboys in the town, the fledgling church is growing rapidly and addressing the problem issues of gang warfare between the groups head on.

The young man paused one evening to reflect on the events of the past several months, "And now I know why I decided to go to the fair, rather than maintain my customary prayer vigil at home away from the crowds. God had a work to do in me, as well as this town. So what now, Lord?"