Happy New Year!
I'm ringing in the New Year with my family. As usual, with Martinelli's non-alcoholic grape juice. 4 the last time. In a few months I'll be a student @ NYU. In a few months, I'll be an atheist.
A year passes. I'm on the 7 train one night, on the way back from a club in Flushing, NY. a.k.a. Korean 20-somethings partytown. Glowsticks. Baggy UFO raver pants. You're not supposed to ride the train late @ night, but I don't care.
I transfer @ Times Square to ride the N/R home, + I see a subway musician. He's playing "O Holy Night" on the sax, even though Christmas was 6 days ago. I wonder what it must be like to pandhandle w/ an instrument + sleep on the streets + live on McDonald's hamburgers. I don't give him any money.
I get home. The drugs are wearing off. As I wash my face, I can't look @ myself in the mirror. I hate who I've become. But I know the next night, it'll happen again. + I don't have the power to stop this vicious cycle.
The next day's nice out, so I take a walk to Union Square Park. I see people tryin to make a buck. Passing out flyers. Promoting their demo CDs. Selling their wares. But nobody cares. Nobody wants to look you in the eye. Everyone's got places to go, things to do. It's a dog-eat-dog world + I'm nothing but a dog. + so are you, baby. So might as well live it up while the night is young. Who knows what'll happen tomorrow. As for now, I'm gonna get my drink on, + my freak on, because right now might be all I got.
Fast forward a decade.
I walk around the streets of NYC. What used to be a faceless, impersonal blur, is now a steady stream of broken humanity, painful stories, familiar strangers. I try to look people in the eye. Some of them let me. Everytime, my heart breaks. Everytime they don't, it breaks too.
In the city where I wandered aimlessly, I've a newfound purpose. I'm in Union Square Park, where I can see my old apartment building. With a group of young people, some only 9, 10 years old, others in high school + college. Doing an improv puppet show. Singing praise songs. Passing out flyers, to direct them to a website my friend Robin's made. That may lead them to a relationship w/ God. They pass us by, sometimes, without looking @ us, without even finding out what we're about.
Sometimes though, somebody stops. Listens. Asks. Talks. Takes. Smiles. Prays. Hugs. Cries. I don't know why. I never did. But something compels them. In the middle of this heartless city, a pulse. After all.
It's the end of another year. I'm on the subway, the 7 train. It's late at night. I'm pretending to be a subway musician, with my guitar + scratchy voice, passing out DVDs of...myself? My band? It's actually a DVD my friend Kyle's made, that might make them question their spiritual health. Maybe, just maybe, it'll jar them awake. To search 4 the God that's always been searching 4 them.
I don't know this train well, + I'm in the middle of my song when the conductor says: "Jackson Heights, 74th Street. Please stand clear of the closing doors." I barely have time to get off. The door catches me, + I'm stuck. I hold the doors apart, grab some DVDs + reach my hands out to anybody who'll take 'em. I'm desperate.
Who knows? This might be the last chance I'll have to tell them. The last chance 4 them to hear about Him.
I'm still trapped, the plastic edge of the doors digging into my shoulders. Frantically, I ask the guy sitting next to the door to pass 'em out to everyone who wants 'em. I pry myself free. The doors close. The train exhales, engaging the tracks again. It begins to inch forward. The people must've sensed how important those DVDs were to me. I see them eagerly springing out of their seats to take one.
The train flies past. I'm enveloped in the rush of air, the rhythmic thumping of the tracks, the screeching of the metal. But in the streak of blurry faces, against the reflection of the windows, I catch a glimpse of someone I recognize.
It's me. A decade ago. Face pressed against the glass. Jaded. Emotionless. But just beneath the hardened expression, is a silent cry. For hope. For meaning. For love.
It's 2009.
Happy New Year.
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Chris Choi organizes Health Check NYC, an ongoing ministry project to reach the hearts of New Yorkers. http://www.healthchecknyc.com/
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