Homeless.

About a month ago on my way to upper room I parked the car and started walking towards the church. Then I saw her, out of the corner of my eye sitting on the sidewalk holding a cardboard sign "Anything helps." Most of us scurry by as the Pharisees did in the Good Samaritan story. And I write with deep hurt in my heart as I shamefully admit to doing the same. I lifted my gaze from its fixed position on the sidewalk. Many of us don't even acknowledge their presence, as if that unique, beautiful, but broken image of God breathed life wasn't right before our eyes. We nervously, shamefully, awkwardly walk by them daily - as if they don't exist. Better to ignore them
I raised my eyes to meet hers, rose my hands and shrugged.

"I don't have cash."

She looked at me, a bit surprised, and said:
"Thats ok."

Oh, Rachel - she doesn't need your money! I had something much great to give her. Something money cannot buy - Jesus.
I continued sheepishly on my way to church - a heated building with refreshments. (James 2)

Oh, Lord, I am a sad representation of your son! Where is Jesus in me? Many of us look at such as these, the outcast and poorest of our society and say its their own fault - which that may be true. Some are addicts, some are mentally ill (or spiritually oppressed?) but we have the cure! And its that cure that rescued us, reached out and SAVED us from our own self inflicted addictions and faults. Do we see Jesus coming to the prostitute in condemnation? Accusing her of her sin and that is al falls on her own shoulders? To pull herself up by the boot-straps an stop sinning?

Oh my beautiful Jesus - full of compassion.
He was sitting next to this woman. The urge I felt to speak to her was overcome by my human rationalization of why I shouldn't.

"I don't have cash."

The dollar. The universal band-aid. It may only temporarily appease a need. We ask for water and He gives us everlasting water. Jesus is our well of life - and WE have everlasting water. I have everlasting water. Enough to quench the thirst of the whole world.
I am so glad my Jesus doesn't leave me in my sin - or give up on me. That He doesn't disregard me and never try to help because of my addictions, sin, and because "all are they same and relapse" mentality.

No, my Jesus doesn't do that.

He is in every slum, every disease ridden person, every child dying of HIV. Can you hear Him crying out? Asking for someone to tend His sheep? To feed them, clothe them, bind their wounds, and love them?

Are we filled with our Savior's compassion as we daily pass by those in need? Do we quench the Holy Spirit and let our fast-paced, time-is-money, lap of luxury life numb us to the pain so prevalent in our world - on our sidewalk? By our very actions we speak clearly that they don't matter - that we are o˚ and we have enough trivial problems to deal with. I weep at my own selfishness. I am no Christian, no mini Christ - I look nothing like Him.

He touched lepers. No excuses. I must touch them too - even if it is literal. What if I get infected and die? Friends, if my death results in one soul coming to know the love and hope of Jesus - it would be worth every agonizing moment. Isn't that what He has done for us?

"He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose." Jim Elliot, martyr.