That Sunday began as every Sunday had begun since our church first met in the dining hall of a local Lutheran camp. It was nippy so I kept my coat on as I stood and chatted with a friend and one of my younger sisters. We were exchanging the routine “how-was-your-week” talk when I caught a flash of military camouflage in my peripheral vision.

Camouflage?! We fell silent and simultaneously turned to stare at the person striding towards the kitchen behind one of our church members, casserole dish in hand. It was a shock to see a shaved head, nose-ring, tattoos, and spiked leather in our little church of conservative, mostly home educating families. Amid polo shirts and khakis, white blouses and denim skirts, was this apparition of street life.

What on earth is that person doing here? I thought, a sliver of fear piercing my heart. Where on earth did he-or is it a she?-come from?

It was a young woman, and she was followed by three equally colorful characters dressed similarly in spiked leather, nose-rings, multiple tattoos, camouflage, and combat boots. The two young men sported blue and yellow Mohawks while the second young woman had her head shaved as the first, except for a small tuft of hair at the back.

As my friend, my sister, and I stood in stunned silence, my dad hurried up behind us and said in a low voice, “They are a group of hitchhikers that the Millers* picked up off the street last night. They’ve never seen what a real family is like.”

Our faces must have been a picture: eyes and mouths open wide with amazement. As I hurried to my seat it was difficult to keep myself from staring fixedly at these strangers. The only place I had ever seen so many tattoos on one person was on Denis Rodman. This group had him matched for the sheer abundance over their faces and arms. One of the young men even had tattooed eyebrows!

Imagine not knowing what a real family is like, I thought, as our service began. We had our usual announcements, followed by the introduction of guests. Mr. Miller stood and announced the four strangers sitting in the back row. They were Winger, Nettles, Skedo, and Angela, from New York. They were trying to hitchhike to Phoenix when Mr. Miller picked them up.

As we moved into our worship period, the Holy Spirit seemed to be present in a much stronger way than usual. I had felt the presence of the Lord this strongly only twice before. It must be our visitors, I decided. Spiritual warfare.

We always pause between hymns and praise choruses for our testimony time. This morning several of our members rose and testified to God’s faithfulness and mercy during the previous week. Then one of our strange visitors rose from his seat. Despite our strange visitors’ startling appearance, there was no threatening attitude. The air was charged with palpable excitement as the entire church silently waited to hear what he had to say. 

“I just want to say that I’m grateful for our friends who took us off the cold streets, and for Christians who are not afraid to reach out,” Winger said, then took his seat. I think in that moment of silence as he finished speaking and sat down, you could have heard a pin drop on the worn carpet of that dining hall.

WOW! I was thinking, this is so awesome!

After church the group stayed for our fellowship dinner. Our pastor sat with them and had quite a lengthy discussion with them.

During the next week we learned more about the hitchhikers. Nettles and Angela were young women, Winger and Skedo young men. Nettles was twenty-one and the mother of two children, of which her sister had custody. Nettles was also the daughter of a second-generation witch.

I think Nettles was the one that touched me the most. She was only a few years older than myself, yet her face was old; her eyes were old. She seemed to be tired of life. Mr. Miller’s daughter told me that Nettles was dying; she had only six months to live. It made me realize how fortunate I am to be blessed with my wonderful parents and five sisters, my home and my church family. Imagine being only twenty-one and knowing that you have only six months to live! To me, twenty-one was just beginning to taste life, a time when you are just beginning to discover adulthood. And here was a young woman who was old at twenty-one years young.

The next Sunday Nettles came back with the Millers, this time wearing a skirt instead of her grungy camouflage. Skedo and Angela were hitchhiking their way to San Diego, and Winger was going to Phoenix. 

After the Men’s Meeting Tuesday evening, Dad came home with quite a story. A few days earlier, Mr. Miller had received a call from a man who identified himself as Henry. It was Winger, calling from Phoenix where he had nearly been killed by a group of grunge punks. Weeping, Winger told Mr. Miller that he wanted to come back to our church and become a Christian. Mr. Miller replied that Winger didn’t have to come back to our church to be a Christian. Winger could become a Christian right there on that payphone in Phoenix, Arizona. So Winger became a Christian.

 The following Sunday Winger came to church with the Miller family. He was a different man. Gone were the earrings, nose rings, and the multi-colored Mohawk. Gone were the grungy leathers and camouflage. Instead, Winger was dressed in a green polo shirt and jeans. Beneath all the grunge lay a boyish-looking young man. Now his few tattoos were the only remaining traces of his former lifestyle. He and Nettles were also going by their given names, Henry and Adel. It was exciting to see two people so changed. My sister Lauren was away during this time, so it was very exciting to relay to her all the changes in their lives.

For a few weeks they kept coming with Mr. Miller. Then they were gone. Mr. Miller told us that Nettles had decided to move on to Denver, and Winger had followed her. Nettles had not yet accepted Christ, but she was showing great interest. She had tried to call her mother but couldn’t reach her. Finally Nettles left a message on her mother’s answering machine, saying, “I need money to get to Denver; I’m thinking about becoming a Christian.”

Nettles’ mother, of course, did not want her daughter to become a Christian, and promptly sent the necessary funds. So Nettles and Winger went on their way.

Through the experience with Winger, Nettles, Skedo, and Angela, I have learned that it is important to look past the outer shell of a person and see the eternal soul within. To love with Jesus’ love; not self-righteously condemning, but letting God do the changing. If we simply reach out in faith and obedience, trusting the Lord, He can create something beautiful; something we cannot even imagine. 

We have not heard from any of our four strangers. We don’t know how they are doing; whether they have kept to the faith that one of them embraced and the other three came so near to embracing. We do not know if they have fallen away. When I think of them, I pray that God will hold them steady to their course. And if they have strayed, I pray that He will draw them back to Himself. When your life is touched by God, you cannot walk away unchanged. 

* All names have been changed