"Hey! Andy, hi!"

And he felt bad about it, but Andy had hoped Bob hadn't seen him, that he'd be able to quickly get to the corner, get out of site and not have to talk to him. But no such luck. Bob had seen him, and there was no way Andy could pretend not to hear. Besides, it wasn't that he was a bad guy, he was just, well....

"Hey brother, how are you?"

Bob was smiling; his face was friendly and, Andy realized, kind. He felt even more ashamed of trying to avoid him and hoped his own face wouldn't reveal any of what he was thinking or feeling.

"Hi Bob," he said, doing his best to show a nonchalant gladness to see this brother in Christ. "I didn't see you, I guess," his voice sound as lame as the lie in his own ears, but Bob seemed to take no notice of anything being wrong.

"Yea, I saw you," he answered, still smiling as kindly as he had at Youth Group the previous Sunday, "you must be in a big hurry."

Andy found himself stuck in a stupid lie, that he was hurrying and just hadn't seen Bob, that he was so engrossed in his important task that he was blind to all around him. The only trouble, of course, was that he had been in no such hurry, had no task of any kind. He was just going to meet Carol, Ben and a few others. Be cool, he told himself, stop ... whatever it is you're doing.

He knew what he was doing, and he suddenly knew Bob knew it, too. He was far too obvious, a terrible liar, just too transparent. And he realized something else, feeling immediately ugly and tiny: Bob was used to this. Used to being treated like something evil or diseased. Used to his fellow Christians avoiding him, feeling uncomfortable with him around. Oh Jesus, Lord, forgive me, Andy prayed, shame sitting in his belly like an old, sour rag.

Bob, however, was as kind as he looked. He continued to smile as if Andy had been as good to him as he should have been.

"Brother, don't worry about it. I understand. I'm used to it."

Andy simply stood still, half-smiling, trying to keep the shame from his face.

"Listen, Andy," Bob said, growing serious, "there's nothing wrong with me. You can't get anything from me, and I'm not going to do anything to you. I don't understand why God has let me be who I am, but who I am is not a sin. What I do is sinful, or what I did, or wanted ...."

He laughed weakly; suddenly Andy saw some kind of hurt on Bob's face but couldn't tell what it was.

"Who I am." His voice very quiet; almost sad, Andy thought. "Who I am." And then with the confidence returning, "Who I am is saved, brother, saved by our Lord's sacrifice, washed clean in His blood just like you. The nature of our sin does not matter to God, only that we turn to His Son and accept the forgiveness freely given."

To which Andy could only reply, "Amen, brother," and he said it with a urgency that somehow made him feel the Lord's love as a warm glow surrounding the two of them. And when Bob looked directly into his eyes, smiling his kind smile, Andy felt a huge relief. What is wrong with me, to treat another Christian like that? But now Andy no longer felt ashamed, just glad that no matter how faithless he might act, forgiveness was just a prayer away. He smiled back at Bob, and they stood there, two Christians grateful for the loving grace that let them be at peace with themselves and with each other.

"I won't keep you any longer," said Bob, "I have to go see my mom at the hospital."

"How is she doing?" asked Andy. "I'll be sure to lift her up to the Lord."

"I would be really glad if you did," said Bob. "The doctors can't promise anything, of course, but they think she'll be able to go home in about a week and that she'll make a full recovery."

Andy found he was truly glad at this news, that the Lord had lifted the ugly stain from his heart. "Praise the Lord," he said, smiling as lovingly as he could to make Bob understand just how much he meant it.

"Amen," said Bob, "Amen. I have to get back to Denver in a week, so I'll be hiring someone to look after her for a while until she's strong enough to be on her own. I'm trying to talk her into moving to Denver, but she can't go anywhere until she's a lot better. I'm just so thankful she is going to be ok."

Andy had to do more to make up for how unloving he had been earlier.

"Well, Bob," he said, "how about if I get kids from the Youth Group to visit her once she's home? We can sit with her, read or talk or whatever. Would that help?"

And when Bob smiled, Andy thought he'd never seen such a big smile. He felt unbelievably happy just to have Bob smiling at him like that. For a moment, a piece of time he could not recognize and did not even know had occurred, he lost connection with everything in the world but that smile. He felt, not himself expanding into a bliss but returning from it, coalescing back into a familiar existence of flesh and blood and desperate need to serve his God, but filling every part of that was a happiness he did not recognize but that did not frighten him. He smiled back at Bob, and he felt simple joy to do so.

"Thanks, Andy," said Bob, his smile beautiful and warm, "I'd be so grateful for that. Thanks."

And the next moment was but a moment, a minimal ticking of time, but something passed through Andy that he could not identify but only savor with a deep satisfaction. When he thought about the moment later, at home laying in bed, he told himself it was the Lord blessing him for confessing his sin earlier and showing Andy the kind of Christian love he should have done from the first. But at the moment, all he knew was peace.

And then the moment passed, and Andy was just himself again.

"Hey, listen, Andy," said Bob, still smiling but now an ordinary smile from a really nice guy, "I'm staying at my mom's, of course, but you know, I have not seen anyone near my own age since I've been here. Pastor Frank and Anna are great, but I would really enjoy spending at least one evening with, well, young people. People under forty."

They both laughed at this, Andy picturing poor Bob with Pastor Frank, Anna, other church "elders". He loved them all, but he sure didn't see himself spending whole evenings with them. On his own.

"I really enjoyed getting to meet you guys at Youth Group the other night. Why don't you and some of the others come over to my mom's Friday? Invite whoever you want, and I'll send out for pizza. Not sure what we'll do, but I'll tell you, it'll be great to just spend the evening someone closer my own age, even if I'll be the old man of the night."

And as he asked, he looked directly into Andy's eyes. A simple request — bring some friens over for pizza — but Andy felt something larger in the invitation. Something that should frighten him, but he did not feel any fear. What he felt, he did not recognize. But he had no trouble saying, "Sure, Bob, that'd be cool. Thanks," and when they shook hands, a strong clasp around thumbs as was the style, he felt the strength in the older man's grip. He was slight, a few inches shorter than Andy, but he was not weak. As Andy walked away, he told himself that the Lord was blessing Bob for his faith, and that he was glad to have met him.

But in the days that followed, he began to see the dark spot at the peripherary of his vision, and when he saw what was hidden there, he begged God to explain why, why. He begged and prayed, asking the Lord "Why?" and he never stopped asking, never stopped praying, not until something else, years later, caused him to ask "Why?" for another reason. But he never forgot Bob's smile, and how amazing he'd felt for that one moment.