Last night Penn State brought Paul Rusasabegina, the man in which Hotel Rwanda is based off of, to campus. Thousands of students filled the auditorium to hear this one man speak about his story. For nearly an hour and a half, Paul told his story of acting as a hotel manager during a genocide which sadly went nearly unnoticed by most of the ‘modern’ world. He talked about the countless bodies lining the road outside of his hotel. He talked about his family who he feared he may never see again. He talked about the multiple life and death decisions he had to make over a couple months. But had I not known any of that, he didn’t seem any different than all of the people sitting around me.

If I were walking to class and happened to pass Paul on the street, there’s nothing that would have made me stop and turn and follow him to hear his story. He would just be another person who I would soon forget about. But fortunately, Paul’s story has been made known, and people do stop and listen to his story. They may not recognize his face or fully know about the genocide, but when they hear Hotel Rwanda, they stop and listen.

So today as I walked around campus, I couldn’t help but check everyone out walking beside me. Checking out in the sense of pondering their stories. If they were brought to Penn State to talk to the campus and I were making posters for them, what would be the caption beneath their name? Would that flier inspire people to come out and listen to them talk. Sadly, I don’t think it would, at least for most of us. The majority of us don’t have stories like Paul, or at least so we think.

“Well there’s no way that my life story measures up to Paul’s, so I won’t bother sharing it with others. I don’t need to make a flier for myself.”

When I got back from Africa this past summer, the first week was great because I was excited and telling everyone about it. But soon after, for some reason, I started thinking that possibly people wouldn’t want to hear about it. For some reason I didn’t think that my stories were worth telling people. I didn’t want to hassle them. And unfortunately, I think a lot of people feel this way.

So what would happen if we intentionally went around trying to determine what were on each others fliers? I don’t think its good enough to just wait around for people to come to us with their stories, sometimes we have to go seeking the stories. And most of the time, seeking just involves sitting. Sitting and listening.

I find it pretty easy to sit and listen to a pre-planned, heavily publicized event, dealing about genocide coming from a person I only know from a flier. But why is it so much harder to sit and listen to the people I interact with daily. The people who will matter in the future.

Maybe because with an event like Paul, it’s easy to walk away and not do anything about it. I can walk away from the talk last night and not do anything and Paul will never know. Life will keep moving on like it did before.

But when the person talking to me is someone who personally knows me, it is so much harder. No longer can I walk away and ignore what was said. That person’s flier has now become part of mine.

As I continued to walk around campus today, I thought again to the question of whether I would stop to listen to Paul if he had passed me. And as I thought about Paul walking beside me, I soon found myself thinking about what if Jesus were walking beside me. Would I stop and listen to what he had to said? In Jesus’ time, did the people recognize his face and immediately know his story when they saw him? Or was their something about him that just made people stop and follow him? What made people want to sit and just listen to him for hours on end? Why don’t we act that way any more to the people around us? Why don’t we go looking for Jesus in everyone?

Below is a song by Monk and Neagle which really gets at this whole concept. Usually I just cut out the good section of a song and post it, but with this song, all of the lyrics need to be posted.

Twenty-First Time / Monk and Neagle

Nowhere to live
Nowhere to fall
He used to have money
But he’s wasted it all
His face is a photograph burned in mind
But I pretend not to see him for the twenty-first time

He sleeps under stars, it’s all he can afford
His blanket’s an old coat he’s had since the war
He stands on the corner of Carter and Vine
But I pretend not to see him for the twenty-first time

He may be a drifter who’s grown old and gray
But what if it’s Jesus and I walk away
I say I’m the body and drink of the wine
But I pretend not to see him for the twenty-first time

She’s 29 but she feels 48
She can’t raise three kids on minimum wage
She’s crying in back of the welfare line
But I pretend not to see her for the twenty-first time

She may be a stranger trying to get through the day
But what if it’s Jesus and I walk away
I say I’m the body and drink of the wine
But I pretend not to see her for the twenty-first time

This is a call for a change in my heart
I realize that I’ve not been doing my part
When I needed a Savior, I found it in Him
He gave to me, now I’ll give back to them

Drifter or stranger, daughter or son
I’ll look for Jesus in everyone
‘Cause I am the body and drink of the wine
And I’m thankful there’s more than the twenty-first time