It was our second stop of the night and we were just finishing handing out hot soup and slices of bread to the long line of people, who were waiting for what would possibly be the only meal they didn't have to either skip or beg for that week. All around me were countless pairs of empty, hopeless eyes-eyes that looked at the ground when I met their gaze and silently expressed their hurt and shame or hardened indifference to someone who couldn't possibly see them anyway. They broke my heart.
I couldn't blame them for acting invisible and expecting nothing but a handout. Have we given them reason to believe anyone would do otherwise? That we would care enough know them and love them? These men go days without being acknowledged- without being looked at in the eyes- passed by daily by hundreds of people pretending they don't exist. Even in our most compassionate moments, most of us will simply shove money in their hand and hope it is enough to relieve the stinging discomfort.
How often do we ask them their names? How often do we take time to talk to them, pray with them, or find out what they really need?
For me, honestly- the answer is rarely, if ever. Even on this race around the world, I hesitate to stop for these forgotten and cast out people. Oh, I have plenty of "reasons": they may not speak English, it's dangerous to talk to strangers, it would be awkward, they probably don't want to talk to me, and on, and on, and on.
But are any of those excuses good enough? Do they change Jesus' command to love the hungry and poor?
A few minutes later, as we were all standing around, I decided to stop making excuses and stop being so afraid of discomfort- if just for that moment. I sat down on the curb next to a man wrapped in a fleece blanket and I awkwardly asked him for the second time in as many seconds how he was doing. I was so nervous that I forgot he had just finished telling me he was alright when I asked again. Thankfully, he was gracious enough not to point that out and just chuckled softly and answered a second time. Conversation started off slow and uncomfortable, but soon enough it felt light and easy.
His name was Ronnie. He was soft spoken and had the kind of eyes that seem to invite you right into his heart. I loved hearing him talk about his life. I think I could have sat there all night. He spoke of moving to Johannesburg a year ago and his trouble finding a job and somewhere safe for him and his girlfriend to stay. Living on the streets is dangerous and he is afraid and desperate to protect his girlfriend. Later I found out that she had been gang raped and had a trial the next day. My heart was breaking into a million pieces and I all of a sudden, I needed him to know Jesus. Just as I was about to share truth with him, he began to speak about the Lord.
I was able to pray over him and ask the Lord to protect and provide for him. We shared our favorite scriptures and what they meant to us and his eyes shone with a radiant light, fully believing in the words of Philippians 4:12. The verse says, "I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need." How incredible, that someone who has unsuccessfully searched for a job for 9 months while living on the streets, completely stripped of control over stability and safety, could believe those words and possess such contentment.
After we let those words sink in for awhile and the silence settled, he asked me to sing. I started laughing, because I thought he was kidding. Turns out he wasn't. Still, I had no intention of actually doing it-there were tons of people standing around us on the sidewalk and I was determined to turn the conversation in another direction. There I was making excuses again. Then, all of a sudden, I heard myself start to sing and before long, he joined in with the most beautiful harmony.
"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
that saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now I'm found
Was blind, but now I see…"
It was quiet and sweet and full of hope. I don't know if anyone was listening-I didn't even notice. All that mattered was that for a moment, we were worshipping the Lord and giving Him glory in the middle of what I first saw as the most hopeless situation. My heart was light as we shared in experiencing the Father's incredible grace in our lives and His name was glorified.
Jesus commands us to love the least of these.- to care for the poor, the hungry, the lost and lonely. And when we do- when we stop to talk to a man ignored by hundreds of people, and choose to see him as a child of God with a story worthy of being heard instead of a danger and a nuisance, we get the privilege and the honor of of bringing Matthew 25:40 to light:
"Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."
