a man named sue

“So what kind of place is this?” asked Sue.

“This is a church office.” I replied.

“Oh, what kind of church is it?”

“We’re a presbyterian church.”

“Oh, I’m a presbyterian.”

“Really?”

“Well, I haven’t been to church in a very long time.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I guess mainly my lifestyle.”

Sue had stopped into my office looking for a phone to use. After failing to find a ride, declining my offers of something to eat or drink, leaving the office and then returning later to try another number, our conversation began this way.

Sue was very open about the particular lifestyle he felt prevented him from attending church. In many ways he couldn’t help but be open about it since he very literally wore many aspects of his lifestyle for all to see. Sue is a 40-year-old, transvestite, male prostitute who is heavily addicted to Meth. The scars of his addiction stand out almost as much as the fake breasts and women’s clothing.

Sue left home around age 13 to escape an abusive father and has spent the last 27 years living on and off the streets, selling himself not just to fund an addiction but also to survive. “I’m not getting any younger and I know I can’t continue living this way for long,” was the conclusion that Sue shared with me. We then discussed whether what he was doing could really be considered living at all.

I tried to assure Sue that God is not waiting for him to clean his act up before He’ll accept him. We read the story of the Prodigal Sons in Luke 15:11-32 together and I tried to explain to Sue that both sons in the story were lost, the immoral one and the moral one, both the one with the "good" lifestyle and the bad, and yet the Father was eager to embrace both, regardless of lifestyle, and receive them back into loving relationship. With tear in eye, Sue smiled. He understood and appreciated this truth, but confessed he wasn’t ready to return home and was still satisfied by the embrace of those who would use him rather than the One who would love him.

Our conversation then turned to other daily life issues. Struggles with addiction, impending court cases, and estrangement from family and friends. We said our goodbyes, I shook Sue’s hand and invited him to stop by anytime.

“So what kind of place is this?” asked Sue.

“This is a church office.” I replied.

I’m hoping that by the end of our conversation Sue saw it as more than that though. I hope he saw it as place of refuge, safety, and grace. I hope I see Sue again.