Matt wandered into Church early with his bulging backpack, sat in the back row, with his usual cup of coffee. He always had too many layers on, that would extenuate the pungent whiffs of cigarettes, marijuana, and his musty clothes. It was an adventure sitting next to Matt, as he lived in a tent down the street, and therefore, struggled to stay awake throughout the service. Matt was someone who didn't know how to talk quietly, so when he was awake, he would whisper to me with his loud foggy voice, followed by his impulsive croaky laugh. He would cause heads to turn and faces to frown as he'd tell me of his need to smoke a blunt, how he was going to get retribution on some fellas that "did him wrong", while always asking me about my family. Whereas Matt struggled to control his impulses, he did his best to be respectful. I don't know how much he heard, but the one thing I do know is he loved Jesus, he knew he needed Jesus, so as an act of faith, he faithfully came
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