I saw a homeless person sitting in the Asian Ghetto, eating out a of to-go plastic tray with his hands. At first I was repulsed. Surely his hands are dirty, I thought. That's going to make him sick. I wondered why he didn't grab utensils with his meal or, if he got it from someone else, why there wasn't utensils with it.
Then I thought, he looked... not lonely, but alone? If that makes any sense. He just sat eating. No one gave him much mind. People didn't avoid him or approach him. He just sat. Just sat and ate, every once in a while wiping his hand on his blue, worn jeans after having shoveled a small hand-full of food (was it rice?) into his mouth. I thought of my Global Poverty class, and strove not to criminalize his existence, to blame his homelessness on imagined-laziness. No, he was just another guy who fell through the cracks, unnoticed and unseen, silently fading into the background of our lives.
At a loss of what to do, I just prayed. Somehow for him to know that he wasn't alone. That there was hope. I didn't have the gall to just sit beside him and ask him how he was, reminding me again of my sinful self, again that I lacked that perfect love Apostle Paul claimed drove out all fear.* Although I could not love that man enough, I knew God does. Although my prayer was small, I know God's heart is big.
I knew that, one day, there will be no more crying, no more pain, no more mourning. That God will wipe every tear from our eyes.** I don't know how my little action of noticing him changed anything, but somehow, I knew God would use that. God works, even when I do not, cannot, even when I choose not to.
Then I thought, he looked... not lonely, but alone? If that makes any sense. He just sat eating. No one gave him much mind. People didn't avoid him or approach him. He just sat. Just sat and ate, every once in a while wiping his hand on his blue, worn jeans after having shoveled a small hand-full of food (was it rice?) into his mouth. I thought of my Global Poverty class, and strove not to criminalize his existence, to blame his homelessness on imagined-laziness. No, he was just another guy who fell through the cracks, unnoticed and unseen, silently fading into the background of our lives.
At a loss of what to do, I just prayed. Somehow for him to know that he wasn't alone. That there was hope. I didn't have the gall to just sit beside him and ask him how he was, reminding me again of my sinful self, again that I lacked that perfect love Apostle Paul claimed drove out all fear.* Although I could not love that man enough, I knew God does. Although my prayer was small, I know God's heart is big.
I knew that, one day, there will be no more crying, no more pain, no more mourning. That God will wipe every tear from our eyes.** I don't know how my little action of noticing him changed anything, but somehow, I knew God would use that. God works, even when I do not, cannot, even when I choose not to.
I wonder how God will use this man to change the world.
*1 John 4:18
**Revelation 21:4
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