I’m walking across the street, not daring to see if the man in the Monte Carlo is leering at me (it’s just too early for that). The cars going East on Franklin growl past me and as I step my right foot to the curb, I hear a voice from out of nowhere. I raise my head, and though the sun is shining in my eyes and my glasses are at home on the kitchen table, I manage to focus on the source.

A middle-aged blond man with a moustache and baseball cap to match his purple windbreaker is approaching me, looking at me and only me. Slowly his voice fades into audibility.

Excuse me ma’am, may I ask you a question?
Ok so he doesn’t want money or he would have started with that. “Sure” I say as joyfully as I can without being fully awake.

Do you believe in Jesus?
Do I… believe… in Jesus? Before I knew what was going on my brain had decided to operate my mouth independently of conscious thought. “Well, my parents are Catholic…”

He asked me again, apparently not satiated by my response.
Have you accepted Jesus as your lord and savior?

There was something about the way he said it, curiously, calmly and seriously without being scary. The man’s avuncular qualities were apparent and I did not feel pressured to answer either way. Perhaps it was because he didn’t say “as our lord and savior” but it hardly mattered the reason, because suddenly I was responding:
“Yes.”

As I said this, perhaps before I uttered the affirmation, my brain whirled with thoughts of security, contentment, and happiness. It showed me things that represented faith and strength and love. And I don’t know where that came from, but I’m sure I glowed, just a little bit.
My face turned itself into a quizzical no-nonsense mask, as though his question confused me – didn’t everyone accept Jesus? I looked at his face and raised an eyebrow slightly, very nearly daring him to ask me to quote Genesis. I’m sure I looked ready to do it, and cheerily too.

He thanked me, and sent me off with a God Bless, while I told him to have a nice day. I smiled the entire time and felt genuinely happy to have spoken with him. Was it due to my fast acting mouth that saved me a speech on fire and brimstone, or was it because it felt good to not feel offended at his being proactive enough to accost me on the street to ask me my spiritual beliefs?
All I can tell you is that the sounds of the city enthralled me today, sounding like spooky ethereal music from The Fifth Element, and going up the escalator was very nearly a religious experience. My friends would laugh if I tried to explain my day to them. I think they’re missing out.