The Story of a Hitman

When you think of having an encounter with pure and unadulterated ministry, you’d expect it to be in a church, chapel, or some other structure associated with religious gatherings.

Little did I know that I’d witness captives be set free while sitting outside of a city park. Little did I know that I’d meet a person who’d forever change my persepective on the addicts, the homeless, the wreckless, and the homewreckers outside of a public library.

Walking out of the library, Warren spotted a friend he knew from the streets and introduced me to him as “hitman.” (I rarely took their street names seriously..) Hitman was an olderman, greying hair, tall in comparison to this vertically challenged girl. His hands are always crinkled, appearing as if he was holding a can all the time. Alcohol lingered off his every word. I already knew this guy’s story. Alcoholic, lost it all due to his drinking problem, and he just doesn’t care. OKAY Priscilla, don’t cast your pearls before swine, just move on.

Hitman carefully eyed each one of the leather bound books in our hands, “wow how cute, y’all off to read the bible together?”  I can’t stand scoffing, but I decided to implement the golen rule in the worst of ways, “If we so choose, surprised you even know what a bible study is.”  Unfortunately, Hitman was a fan of sarcasm, he followed us out of the library and planted himself right next to Warren on the brick planter.

“Well, I believe in God and all that, but I sure don’t live like it. But, I mean, what’s the worst that will happen? I’ll end up going to a bbq every day? Doesn’t sound too bad to me” ..I was irritated with the chap by this point. I guess part of my past still lingered in me, I just am not a fan of drunk people.
In a lower tone I replied with, “Eternal hell fire and condemnation is more like it..” Warren gave me an annoyed look- I was blowing my witness and we both knew it so he stepped in on my behalf, “dude that is such a hopeless way to look at life.”

Hopeless. This guy was hopeless. Go figure HK (homeless kid, aka Warren) would be the one to remind me of that.Warren and Hitman talked for a while, the conversation was going no where but into perverse joking. I was sitting down to their left just praying, for discernment, for wisdom, for God to make Hitman go away so we can witness to the poor. I guess it really is true, sometimes we get so caught up in ministry that we lose sight of ministry. I couldn’t bear to just sit and listen to their pointless chatter.. I finally muttered the words, “Look, I’m not going to sit and preach the Gospel to ya, in fact, you probably know it better than I do, all I know is I smell the alcohol on your breath, I hear all you talk about revolves around alcohol, and I see what doing things on your own has gotten you.”

His heart literally broke. He began to pull a flask out of his pocket & explain to me that the little flask was his demon, the little flask controlled his life, and he’s lost everything.  He told me how he can’t see his 4 year old son because his wife doesn’t want the kid smelling alcohol on daddy. He told me how his eldest son is now living on the beach with his mother because he was unable to provide to him, always intoxicated. He told me how he was a screw up, he told me how he was a “Clark up” (he changed the wording as to not offend me by cussing) He told me how he is dying to this demon daily..I was  broadsided with shock, this was the perfect opportunity to share my Hope and Salvation with this guy.. it was one of those situations where your heart is beating louder than the words you’re speaking and…. ”JOHN 10:10,

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”

An overwhelming sense of passion fell over Warren, Riley, and myself when those words came out. I readily explained to Hitman that Satan’s only desire in his life was to kill any dream of a better life , to steal the blessings that a gracious God desires for him, and to destroy any hope of being righteous.
After a few heated remarks oh his part, and a few grace filled one on ours, Hitman started to ask me about the ring I wore on my ring finger. I took it off and handed it to him. “Woman Of God, Proverbs 31, you put that back on, Priscilla. I don’t know anyone who deserves to wear it more”  Those words from this once hardened man pierced my heart.

Little did I know, I was the one being ministered to in such a powerful way.

When it was time to leave, I asked to pray with him. As I began to pray, heads bowed, eyes closed (sunday school status) Warren slipped his silver cross necklace into my hand, and when we finished praying, I gave it to him. As I put it around the man’s neck I let my ring fall on it, I figured he knew my story, and the grace that abounded in my life, it would be a good reminder for him. As we walked away he yelled back, “PRISCILLA! this is your ring, are you sure you want to give it to me? Its about your past, you deserve to wear it..”  I told him it had served its purpose for me. I explained to him where much sin abounds grace abounds all the more. I told him to keep it until he is able to give it to someone that the Lord allows him to minister to.

I watched as tears fell down his face. This grown man, crying big ole crocodile tears. He promised that he was going to voluntarily admit himself into a recovery program. He told me that He knew there was a God because 3 random people showed him more love in one hour then he has experienced in a life time. He told me that he would pray every night for us.

My heart shattered. My pride shattered. Any preconceived notion  I clung on to so tightly, shattered.

Hitman had been missing for a month, I thought all of our efforts were in vain, but this morning at 12am I got a call from Mr. Hitman. He finally admitted himself into a program. To this day, Hitman still wears a silver cross and ring around his neck, but neither represent condemnation but rather, the grace that abounds all the more.

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