he is not the crazy one.

 As I prayer walked today down Bangla I felt burned out. I was tired of this ministry. I was jealous I didn’t get to change like the rest of my squad. I was just drained. It was becoming all too mundane.
 
“Jesus, please give me something new. Please show me something. I’m too tired to keep on going like this.”
 
Prayer answered. Enter crazy man.
 
I sit down to wait for the bus, as always. This time there is this man running an empty glass beer bottle up and down the cement wall I am sitting on. Up and down. Up and down.
 
“Talk to him.”
“No.”
“Sami, do it.”
“Fine, God.”
 
“Hi. What are you doing?” I ask as if I can speak Thai let alone speak crazy.
He shows me there is something in his bottle and makes lots of gestures to me.
Then walks away.
 
Well. Okay I did what ya asked God.
Check.
 
I can’t help but watch him, though. He is becoming more and more violent. Holding his bottle as if something more is living inside it than just a simple receipt. Here it comes, I think. He’s gonna smash it.
Sure enough up goes the bottle and down shatter the pieces.
 
Yup that’s it. come on Carly I have to talk to him.
I walk over to him as he begins to sweep up the mess he has made. I don’t have words to say right now so all I do is take his broom and clean up for him.
 
He starts screaming at something in the corner near us. I sit right next to that corner. I sit there and pray with him. I pray just as he screams. We both know even if all the people walking past staring at us don’t quite understand yet.
Then it dawns on me. This man is not crazy. In fact I am the one who is crazy for thinking he is crazy! His eyes are open to the spiritual world. This man can see things I can’t. He can see demons. He begins to tell me how many he sees.
“10,000” he says, as he points them out all around.
“500 women” he tells me.
 
By this point my teammates are around me and we pray. We say the name of Jesus. At the mention of his name the man begins to tremble.
 
The demons inside this man and around him shook simply because we proclaimed the name of our King.
 
I kept asking God, “show me. Please, show me what he sees”. He said no. You’re not ready to see that, you don’t want to. He wouldn’t let my teammates see either. It must have been something terrible sitting in that corner.
As our bus begins to pull up I reach out to touch him. Carly hugs him and says there is freedom in Jesus.
 
“FREEDOM?!” he shouts.
“Yes! Freedom in Jesus”
He lifts his hands and proclaims FREEDOM! He declares his freedom to the skies. Hands held high. Face lifted high.
 
I run to jump on the back of the bus. Looking back at his smile. At his taste of freedom and all that is soon to come down upon him. Jesus is freeing him.
 
He’s not crazy.
 
Just imagine how much of God He is willing and able to see and accept because he is not blind. He knows evil exists, but boy is he in for a surprise when he gets to see the glory and goodness of my King and all his angels. His eyes are open and willing. He’s not crazy. He is just able to see more than I can.
I’m the crazy one for even calling him crazy.