This is why

Today I saw a middle-aged man who had lost more than 100 pounds to cancer.  He was aged beyond recognition and so weak he could not stand for long.  He walked with a slow shuffling gait.  He used to play guitar in the band at his church and was back on the stage today.

He had to sit in a chair as the guitar slunk almost flat on his lap.  Arms that were no thicker than the neck of the guitar worked to play in a way that used to be effortless as breathing.

At one point in a song he was so moved he slumped forward almost double.  The guitar fell off his lap and hung like a punk bassist.  He kept playing.  When he looked up his eyes glistened.

I don't really know this man.  I don't know his story or his beliefs.  I just know it isn't likely he'll live and if he does it will be a very different life from what he's known.  But for all that.  For all his disappointment, fear, and suffering.  For all his potential misunderstandings, flaws, false beliefs.  In that moment, it was clear that he knew where his need and his hope and his courage lied.

And I call this man a brother.  This is why I'm a Christian.