Marcus Redding Has An Idea

Marcus had been at work with Ron all morning and Ron hadn’t said anything. They usually talked about the Cowboys game or Ron’s projects he was working on at home. But this morning Ron was quiet.

So when Marcus got the next set of orders from the office he went up to Ron. “Do you want route 3 or route 5?” Ron looked stoic and said, “Doesn’t matter.” Marcus tucked the orders in a clipboard and set them on the back of his forklift. “What’s wrong?” Ron looked up, taken aback at the direct question. He hesitated, then finally said, “They’re going to put my mom in hospice.”

“Oh, Ron, man…I’m sorry.” Marcus knew about the tension between Ron and his family. His mom and his sister lived in Arlington. Ron’s dad had died when he was in high school. From age 16 to 21 Ron and Marcus lived the same life. Both suffered a tragedy in high school, both hit the bottle, now both of them were trying to get back on track. Faith was the difference between them. Marcus was back on track. Sober. Reconciled with his family. Married to a wonderful wife. Reading the Bible. Praying. Regular at worship services. Making friends with people in his church family.

Ron did not have faith. He resented Christians because of how folks from his parents' church didn’t help his mom when his dad died (or so he thought.) He did not attend any church services. He didn’t pray. He wasn’t interested in the Bible. He had a girlfriend, but nothing deep. He had reconciled some with his sister, but not with his mom, who resented him for abandoning the family after his dad died. But he had been dry for a while. He carried a one-year chip on his key ring. And he had a good heart. Just a lot of baggage. A lot of guilt. A lot of unacknowledged, unconfessed, un-repented-of sin.

“I’m sorry too,” Ron finally said. They were close enough that Marcus thought he could be bold. “Go talk to her.” Ron shook his head, “What would I say? It wouldn’t change anything.” Marcus challenged him, “How do you know? Remember my accident? Years later I went to Bruce’s parents and talked to them. Said I was sorry. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But they forgave me. And hugged me and we cried and all that. You’ve got to try.” Ron wasn’t on board, “Yeah, well, my mom is not like Bruce’s mom. She’d cuss me right out of hospice.” Marcus didn’t back down, “You’ve got two choices. You can either try to reconcile with her or you can live the rest of your life with guilt and wonder what if.”

Just then a truck backed up to the loading dock and set its air brakes. The sound interrupted their conversation. Ron found the out he was looking for, “I’ve got to unload this truck.” And he walked off. Marcus watched him open the back door of the truck. Then an idea hit him.

He jumped on the forklift and drove it around the corner. He got out his cell phone and called Lauren. He asked her if they had anything going on tonight. They didn’t. He told her about Ron’s mom and his idea. She told him to go for it, just call her on her cell phone.

Marcus didn’t say anything to Ron the rest of the day. At 5:25 Marcus clocked out and ran to the parking lot and got in his truck. He pulled it up to the warehouse, popped open the passenger side door, and waited. When Ron opened the door to leave Marcus hollered and motioned at him, “Jump in! Let’s go see your mom!”

Ron was stunned. “What are you talking about?” Marcus revved the engine. “I’ll drive you to Arlington! Come on! Jump in!” Ron stood in the doorway. His shoulders fell. Closed his eyes. Then looked back up. “What are you doing Marcus?” Marcus hollered again, “We’ll stop by Sonic on the way out.” He pounded on the passenger seat. “Come on!”

Ron heard a voice from behind him, “Get in the truck.” Ron turned around and saw six of the other guys that worked in the warehouse. They stood side by side. All looking straight at him. These were guys with scars. Guys with tattoos. Guys with rough beards. Guys with round circles in their back pockets courtesy of Copenhagen. Guys who were divorced two or three times. Guys who fight among themselves. Guys who might not have always done the right thing, but they knew the right thing when they saw it.

One by one they said, “Get in the truck.” “Get in the truck.” “Get in the truck.” “Get in the truck.” “Get in the truck.”

Ron looked back at Marcus. Marcus revved the engine. Ron didn’t walk. He ran to the truck and jumped in.

More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.