Homeless

I hung out tonight with some of the coolest people in our youth group. We went to Dairy Queen threw a dirty sock back and forth, and then some of us ended up going to Powell's Books... we had a blast... I dropped them off, and started to head home to chill and maybe play some X-Box... but first I had to stop at the church and pick up my computer and stuff. So I walked around the corner to open the door and turn off the alarm, and my evening started!

There was Patrick. I knew him not. We looked at each other, I'm thinking both of us a little unsure what to expect. He, perhaps knowing that he might be quickly asked to leave the property, and me never knowing what's really going on in that mind.

I always try to be as natural as possible in those situations (this is the third time I've walked around that corner to find a homeless guy standing--or sleeping--there). So I just said Hey... and he said it back.. and then he just started talking. He was Patrick, a street preacher. Are you a preacher, too... I said yeah... I work with the teens here. So we were kindred spirits from moment one.

The rub is this--and I hate it!! I stood with him (in a short-sleeved shirt) for close to an hour (of course he's still out there). We talked religion, church ethics, church praxis, discipleship, and evangelism. He challenged me to open a men's house and take guys into my house to disciple them. I really don't think he was hinting at taking him into my house... I think he was honestly espousing the best discipleship method he knew of, which was to live with people. I gave him a Bible, and he was in awe that I gave him a new one. I gave him tracts, cause he showed me his, and his supply was diminishing. I gave him respect cause he was homeless, and they get so little. I gave him some reheated pizza cause it's so nice to get warm food when you're cold. I gave him some loaves of bread for the road. He assured me he had a campsite across town, but I gave him a really old (but really thick) sleeping bag cause I knew it was just taking up space in our storage room upstairs, and I couldn't remember the last time we needed it. I told him when he made it back to his campsite on the west-side, give the bag to some other guy who could use it.

And I walked away wondering why I was uncomfortable letting him in the church. I talked with him, know his name, much of his past few months of life (jail, solitary, no tv, good hot meals, bum rap). I walked away wondering if my rationalization that you can never fully trust in those situations is true. I also walked away thinking how Jesus handled those situations. Many times, he simply did what He could and said go and sin no more!! Would it have looked the same on a cold NW night?

I walked away both knowing that I'd met with Jesus, and wondering if I was supposed to do more? Knowing that he was hungry, and I gave him food; he was cold, and I gave him a sleeping bag; he was tired... I could do nothing about that; he was lonely, and I talked with him and prayed with him for an hour; he was there, and I loved him... but DID I?

I'm not espousing a spirituality that regularly undermines our efforts. I do not believe it's healthy or righteous to put out a false humility. At the same time, however, it's important that we not decieve ourselves. Was I Patrick's neighbor?? I think so... was I the kind of neighbor I'd hope to find (if I'm ever cold, hungry, tired, just out of jail, and all that??)... I'm thinking not the one I'd hope to find, but what I'd--unfortunately--expect to find... and is that OK?