The man who fought the devil every day

He stands on the street with his hands cupped into a bowl shape in front of him. He's a fairly tall man, in shabby clothes. He's not drunk and does not appear to be under the influence of any drug. He tries to make eye contact with those that walk by. He doesn't speak and it's never clear exactly what he is doing. Is he asking for money with those outstretched hands? No one looks directly at him and even when they put money in his hands, they never touch him.

I was waiting for dinner one night at one of the churches that feed the homeless on the weekends and we started talking. This is the story that he told me.

He woke up one day in the hospital with a massive head injury. He had no memory of how he had been hurt and what his life before the accident consisted of. He had family come to visit while he was there and he remembered them, but did not feel an emotional connection to them.

While he was in the hospital, he realized that he is actually the current incarnation of Moses and that his task is to prevent Armegeddon by holding the devil at bay.

I asked him how in the world he was going to do that and he said that it is a hard struggle with the devil, but that so far, he is barely able to hold on.

When I asked him how he can tell who has the upperhand in this struggle, he explained that all day long he looks for the devil in people's eyes. When he sees the devil, he concentrates with all his might to drive the devil from that person. His goal is to see fewer people with the devil in their eyes than he sees without. His fear is the people who won't look him in the eye, he can't tell if the devil has that person and can't try to drive the devil out.

We sat and talked for a long time and he said that he was so tired. This struggle was almost a bigger task than he felt capable of handling. Every day it was harder and harder to find anyone with the light of god shining from them or even a person cut off from god without the devil. He felt that he could count the neutrals on his side of the balance.

We talked about how much he used to like playing the guitar and how little time he had to do that now. My friend R-- loaned him a guitar once and he really could play well. For a moment in time he played and sang and was not fighting his fight.

Every time I passed him, I looked him in the eye and asked how he was doing. His standard reply was "I am barely holding on". Somedays he told me that it was not going well, that his strength was so low that he feared this was the day that the gates of hell would open and the fight would be over.

I often wonder what sidewalk he is standing on and if he feels the struggle is going his way.