The Story of Cain (part 3)

This is the last part of a three-part story.  To read the first part, click here; to read the second part, click here.

::the final encounter::
I crossed paths with this man a few times since the previous conversation.  I'd be driving around in the city and there he'd be, walking down the center of the road or walking beside the road.  His eyes were still seemingly lidless.  He was always half naked, drooling on his chest, very tough, and very fierce.  Unfortunately over the course of a couple months, every time i found him, i was in a terrible hurry (which is an shameful excuse, now that i think of it) or whenever i did pull over to confront him, he vanished into the crowd, which was weird for him, because he seemed to stick to the streets, not the interiors of crowds of people off the street.  It was as if "it" was avoiding me.
Finally, last week there he was again, not leaping in front of cars, but walking in the middle of the street.  Now that i think about it, it's truly a wonder that he has not perished yet with such habits.  I parked my car at a nearby gas station, trying to keep an eye on him, to make sure he didn't wander off again.  He lurked down the yellow lines in the center of two lanes of opposing traffic.  I ran down the side of the street parallel to him and yelled for him to stop and come over to the side.  Cars were whizzing between us.  I yelled loud enough so that he could hear me, but he seemed to march on completely oblivious to me.  So i darted between a gap in the passing cars and stood in his path on the yellow lines about 15 feet away.  I said calmly in Susu, "N wama woyenfay ee ra.  Woan hai men-ee, keerah set-ee ma. (I want to have a conversation with you.  Let's go over there to the side of the road.)"  He methodically continued in his gate, still not acknowledging me, pacing directly toward me, but looking right through me.  I began to consider that he might not stop.  He might just walk into me or worse.  He might attack me or throw me in front of a passing car.  Nevertheless, i knew that if i moved, i might not get another chance to offer him Hope.  He stopped just in front of me.  He was so close it was awkward.  His face couldn't have been more than 12 inches from my own.  His eyes relaxed just a tad, but were still open, and when he spoke his slobber splattered my face.  "Awa.  Woan hai. (Okay.  Let's go.)"  We strolled over to the gravel sidewalk, between some boutiques and the street.  He took a stance the same distance from me as before, still slobbering on me whenever he spoke.  I noticed his shaved head was rift with scars from where he (i assume) cut himself.  He had slice-scars that spanned long and wide from his crown to his cheeks.  They covered most of his scalp and face.  I asked, "What is your name."  "Xabila (pronounced: khah-BEE-lah).  I'm a mason.  I have built many things.  Now give me 5,000 francs, and I'll be on my way," he replied.  Xabila is the Susu form of Cain.  Not surprising, he is the only Susu i've met by that name.  For that matter, he is the first person i've met by that name (if you don't count the Rev. Charles Cain, who did Racheal's and my wedding tattoos).  By the way, 5,000 francs of local currency is the equivalent of $0.72 in US dollars.  Not exactly enough to make or break me.  It appeared that he was accustomed to receiving money from strangers.  I imagine people, not having any hope of offering anything more than money, will toss a monetary bill or two at him as if one would throw a dog a bone.  I told him, "I have something much more valuable to give you than money.  You have a demon in you, right?"
"Yes."
"Do you want freedom from the demon?"
"Yes."
"The Prophet Jesus offers you freedom from this demon.  He can remove it from you."
"Give me 5,000 francs, and i'll be on my way."
"I don't want you to go away like this.  I'm not going to give you any money.  Do you realize that Jesus is more powerful than demons.  His name is the most powerful name.  You can follow Him and be free from this demon."
"But i follow Mohammed."
"Yes, but there's NO power in the name of Mohammed.  That name CANNOT free you from this demon."
I realized that what i had just said was diminutive of Mohammed's name and was not something one typically announces in a crowd of Muslims, which such a crowd was now carefully observing our conversation.  I looked over my shoulder to see what response it would arouse, if any.  People just looked confused and were whispering in each other's ears.  They didn't seem to be phased or offended, just perplexed.
He repeated, "I am a mason.  I follow Mohammed.  Give me 5,000 francs."
"I will not give you money, but i want you to know that there is freedom to be had from this state of torment you are in.  It is found in Jesus alone, not Mohammed."
We parted ways.  He resumed his path, including his spiritual path.  I returned to my truck, frustrated and heartbroken.
Wasn't it supposed to end differently?  Wasn't Cain supposed to fall in love with Jesus and be 100% free from the demon that has tormented him so long?  Weren't the bystanders who witnessed such a miracle supposed to come to Christ as well?  Weren't Cain and i and all the souls he would have led to Christ by his amazing testimony supposed to praise Jesus for all eternity around the Throne of God screaming at the top of our lungs, "HOLY!  HOLY!  HOLY IS THE LORD GOD ALMIGHTY!  THE WHOLE EARTH IS FILLED WITH HIS GLORY!"?  I sure thought so... at least i'd hoped so.
Alas, Cain chose.  He chose not follow Christ and he chose not to renounce his allegiance to the demon that enslaved him and to the name of Mohammed.  He chose, like his first namesake in the Book of Genesis, the path of destruction.
If Cain wants what he has more than a life of freedom, i can't make him change his mind.  So i left him to go his way.  I don't intend to chase him anymore.  I have a peace about that.
What i don't have a peace about is the fact that i don't think i have ever met someone that was as clearly tormented by the Enemy as Cain, and he didn't want freedom bad enough to run from his Captor into the safe arms of Jesus.  What i don't have a peace about and is most troublesome to me is the fact that if i couldn't convince Cain that there is a better way than the wretched state he is in, then who the heck could i ever convince?
Then again, my job is to simply invite people to the Kingdom.  That's my role.  As an ambassador of that Kingdom to this world, i try to hand out as many visas as possible, but i can't force people to take advantage of that visa.  I do not draw souls to salvation.  The Father does that.  I do not save people .  Jesus does that.  I do not convince hearts and minds of anything of eternal significance.  The Holy Spirit does that with groanings too deep for words.  And, we can rejoice in the fact that those quintessential factors are left in the capable hands of the Almighty, not corey pendergrass.
Thanks for reading about this journey.
Pray for Cain.