It was an
unusually cold day for the month of May. Spring had arrived
and everything was alive with color. But a cold front from
the North had brought winter's chill back to Indiana. I sat
with two friends in the picture window of a quaint
restaurant just off the corner of the town square.
The food and
the company were both especially good that day. As we
talked, my attention was drawn outside, across the street.
There, walking into town, was a man who appeared to be
carrying all his worldly goods on his back.
He was
carrying a well worn sign that read, "I will work for food."
My heart sank. I brought him to the attention of my friends
and noticed that others around us had stopped eating to
focus on him. Heads moved in a mixture of sadness and
disbelief. We continued with our meal, but his image
lingered in my mind. We finished our meal and went our
separate ways. I had errands to do and quickly set out to
accomplish them. I glanced toward the town square, looking
somewhat halfheartedly for the strange visitor.
I was
fearful, knowing that seeing him again would call some
response. I drove through town and saw nothing of him. I
made some purchases at a store and got back in my car. Deep
within me, the Spirit of God kept speaking to me: "Don't go
back to the office until you've at least driven once more
around the square." And so, with some hesitancy, I headed
back into town. As I turned the square's third corner. I saw
him.
He was
standing on the steps of the storefront church, going
through his sack. I stopped and looked, feeling both
compelled to speak to him, yet wanting to drive on. The
empty parking space on the corner seemed to be a sign from
God: an invitation to park. I pulled in, got out and
approached the town's newest visitor. "Looking for the
pastor?" I asked.
"Not
really," he replied, "Just resting."
"Have you
eaten today?"
"Oh, I ate
something early this morning."
"Would you
like to have lunch with me?"
"Do you have
some work I could do for you?"
"No work," I
replied. "I commute here to work from the city, but I would
like to take you to lunch."
"Sure," he
replied with a smile.
As he began
to gather his things. I asked some surface questions. "Where
you headed?"
"St. Louis."
"Where you
from?"
"Oh, all
over; mostly Florida."
"How long
you been walking?"
"Fourteen
years," came the reply.
I knew I had
met someone unusual. We sat across from each other in the
same restaurant I had left earlier. His face was weathered
slightly beyond his 38 years. His eyes were dark yet clear,
and he spoke with an eloquence and articulation that was
startling. He removed his jacket to reveal a bright red
T-shirt that said, "Jesus is The Never Ending Story."
Then
Daniel's story began to unfold. He had seen rough times
early in life. He'd made some wrong choices and reaped the
consequences. Fourteen years earlier, while backpacking
across the country, he had stopped on the beach in Daytona.
He tried to hire on with some men who were putting up a
large tent and some equipment. A concert, he thought. He was
hired, but the tent would not house a concert but revival
services, and in those services he saw life more clearly. He
gave his life over to God.
"Nothing's
been the same since," he said, "I felt the Lord telling me
to keep walking, and so I did, some 14 years now." "Ever
think of stopping?" I asked. "Oh, once in a while, when it
seems to get the best of me. But God has given me this
calling. I give out Bibles. That's what's in my sack. I work
to buy food and Bibles, and I give them out when His Spirit
leads."
I sat
amazed. My homeless friend was not homeless. He was on a
mission and lived this way by choice. The question turned
inside for a moment and then I asked: "What's it like?"
"What?"
"To walk
into a town carrying all your things on your back and to
show your sign?"
"Oh, it was
humiliating at first. People would stare and make comments.
Once someone tossed a piece of half-eaten bread and made a
gesture that certainly didn't make me feel welcome. But then
it became humbling to realize that God was using me to touch
lives and change people's concepts of other folks like me."
My
concept was changing, too. We finished our dessert and
gathered his things. Just outside the door, he paused. He
turned to me and said, "Come ye blessed of my Father and
inherit the kingdom I've prepared for you. For when I was
hungry you gave me food, when I was thirsty you gave me
drink, a stranger and you took me in."
I felt as if
we were on holy ground. "Could you use another Bible?" I
asked. He said he preferred a certain translation. It
traveled well and was not too heavy. It was also his
personal favorite.
"I've read
through it 14 times," he said.
"I'm not
sure we've got one of those, but let's stop by our church
and see."
I was able
to find my new friend a Bible that would do well, and he
seemed very grateful. "Where you headed from here?"
"Well, I
found this little map on the back of this amusement park
coupon."
"Are you
hoping to hire on there for awhile?"
"No, I just
figure I should go there. I figure someone under that star
right there needs a Bible, so that's where I'm going next."
He smiled, and the warmth of his spirit radiated the
sincerity of his mission.
I drove him
back to the town square where we'd met two hours earlier,
and as we drove, it started raining. We parked and unloaded
his things. "Would you sign my autograph book?" he asked. "I
like to keep messages from folks I meet."
I wrote in
his little book that his commitment to his calling had
touched my life. I encouraged him to stay strong. And I left
him with a verse of scripture from Jeremiah, "I know the
plans I have for you," declared the Lord, "plans to prosper
you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a future and a
hope."
"Thanks,
man," he said. "I know we just met and we're really just
strangers, but I love you."
"I know," I
said, "I love you, too."
"The Lord is
good."
"Yes. He is.
How long has
it been since someone hugged you?" I asked.
"A long
time," he replied.
And so on
the busy street corner in the drizzling rain, my new friend
and I embraced, and I felt deep inside that I had been
changed. He put his things on his back, smiled his winning
smile and said, "See you in the New Jerusalem."
"I'll be
there!" was my reply.
He began his
journey again. He headed away with his sign dangling from
his bed roll and pack of Bibles. He stopped, turned and
said, "When you see something that makes you think of me,
will you pray for me?"
"You bet,"
I shouted back, "God bless."
"God bless."
And that was
the last I saw of him. Late that evening as I left my
office, the wind blew strong. The cold front had settled
hard upon the town. I bundled up and hurried to my car. As I
sat back and reached for the emergency brake, I saw
them....a pair of well-worn brown work gloves neatly laid
over the length of the handle. I picked them up and thought
of my friend and wondered if his hands would stay warm that
night without them. I remembered his words:
"If you see
something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?"
Today his gloves lie on my desk in my office. They help me
to see the world and its people in a new way, and they help
me remember those two hours with my unique friend and to
pray for his ministry.
"See you in
the New Jerusalem," he said.
Yes, Daniel,
I know I will....
~Anonymous~ |