He was angry.

“I don’t believe in God.”

“OK, then. How’s that working for you?”

I have no agenda. I’m not going to get sucked into some defense of the 700 Club, the Crusades, priest sexual abuse, snake handling, or the fundamentalist grandmother who beat the kids for wiggling at church.

I explained the work of Nightwatch – tonight we took 100+ homeless people, fed them, sent them off to various shelters. I visited a tent city to bring them socks, and looked for other ways to be helpful. Pretty simple, straightforward.

“Religious people bug me. I just needed to rant at somebody.” (“It’s okay,” I thought to myself, “they often bug me too.”)

By now his rage was tempered. He shook my hand. “I guess you’re doing like Christ would do. Taking care of people. That’s good.”


I walked away, slightly amazed that this stranger would have so much anti-religious fervor that he would follow me out of a bar and chase me down the street at midnight. But then he decided I’m okay, based on his understanding of Jesus.