out! The only reason I hit her with the hammer was ‘cause I just got home from work and was takin’ my toolbelt off. She hit me from behind with her damn cast-iron skillet and I was out. When I came to, she was sittin’ on me and was still swingin’ that skillet at my head. I know’d eventually she was gonna get lucky and hit me again. I grabbed for my toolbelt to wrap around her arms, but all I could reach was my screwdriver and my hammer. I didn’t want to stab her, I just wanted to hit her hard enough to get her off me, so I chose the hammer. I had to hit her a couple of times hard before she stopped. Then she just kind’a fell over, but I didn’t want to stop hittin’ her. I was just so angry it was hard to stop.” He never talked about it again, and I didn’t ask. John called me a couple of times and talked about going to church. He was still drinking, he said, but not as much as he used to. I talked to him about the Lord and salvation and how much God loved him. I encouraged him to talk to God and to get to know Him personally. I talked to John like an ambassador of Christ. I didn’t try to fix him. Whenever I thought about my friend John, I prayed for him. I heard he was homeless again and wasn’t looking to get into a residential pro- gram. I saw him that winter and gave him a coat and a pair of gloves. He was sleeping in a friend’s basement, but John’s friend was later arrested and ended up in jail. So John started sleeping on people’s front porches, under lawn furniture. He had gone back to drinking; he said it helped keep him warm. Plus, it took his mind off of being so hungry. I continued praying for John. It was a hard, vicious winter that year. Then out came spring and out came John. I don’t remember if he called or stopped in at the mission, but I remember he said he made things right with the Lord and everything was okay. He told me not to worry—he was struggling, but he wanted to get sober again. I assured him he could do it. I was proud of John and I told him that. I also told him I was praying for him. Three months later, I heard on the street that John Conner had died of liver disease. I looked up his obituary to see when he died. I was hoping it might give his date of birth or home- town—some kind of clue about who he was or where he came from. I would be lying if I said I believed him about having no family. It was the saddest obituary I’ve ever read. It was two sentences. “John Conner, 53, of Utica passed away on April 30, 2016 at the healthcare center. No funeral services are planned.” I know that I know that John is in heaven—not because of anything I did, but because of what Jesus did in spite of me. I consider it a privilege that Jesus used me to reach John. My prayer is that Jesus used another ambassador to reach Amos. Relationships increase our effectiveness, and our effectiveness matters more than our effort.  42 WWW.CITYGATENETWORK.ORG MAY/JUNE 2019 I talked to him about the Lord and salvation and how much God loved him. I encouraged him to talk to God and to get to know Him personally. I talked to John like an ambassador of Christ. I didn’t try to fix him. Hank is the director of clinical services at the Rescue Mission of Utica in New York. He can be reached at hank.visalli@uticamission.org.