Of Sheep and Goats and the Drunk Man on the Corner

My attitudes and ideas about poverty and homelessness seem to be continually evolving, from a naive and overly simple outlook to a more educated and experienced perspective, but the wrestling and conflicting ideas inside my head just seem to get louder and louder.

I read the story Jesus told about sheep and goats and try to see Jesus in the eyes of every person I see. I read the story of the Good Samaritan that Jesus told in response to a question about "who is my neighbor?" The neighbor is the one who helps...the neighbor should and could be everyone.

So I yearn for love and compassion to ooze out of my eyes and vocal cords and body language and wallet...but what is love for each person?

I walk with the homeless man who tells me of his daily panhandling at Safeway to buy more beer. He walks with me to a community center where he would be cared for, but he falls asleep on the couch in a stupor. When he awakens he immediately heads out to get more change and more beer.

I give food to a homeless Latin man on the sidewalk and hear his story. He claims the divorce was all his wife's fault. He left his little girls with no father, but it was all his wife's fault. After all, she knew he was an alcoholic when she married him...it's her fault. It's her fault.

I talk with another homeless man and realize my gift of lunch enabled him to spend his money on marijuana instead of lunch.

We run into our transgender friend from the community center in the Tenderloin, dealing drugs. Why? It's George Bush's fault. He wants the black man to be enslaved by drugs. But aren't you a black person selling drugs to black people? Please help me understand...really, I want to better understand.

The couple in the park want me to get a thousand dollars from my church to give to them so that they can put a down payment on an apartment. But the apartment is over priced. The woman sends her man to the corner to get money to buy more cigarettes. Their insistence on keeping the dog cuts down on housing possibilities. But they demand help from the church to get into the place to live. What is love? Is love to give money? My mind tells me they need to stop spending so much money on cigarettes and get rid of the dog and let me lay out a budget for them. If they both start work in a few days, I know an apartment is entirely possible on their own. But they don't want my advice...don't want to be told how to live. They want my money.

Is it love to approach the young men from the projects, the ones who almost hit my wife and daughter with a large rock? Is it love to go and talk to them, after hearing rumors of young men who flash their guns to those who confront them? Is it love to call the police and let them handle it?

Somehow compassion and love must often take the form of difficult words and conversations that people do not want to hear. Love must take the form of guidance, of holding a mirror up to help someone see themselves and what they are saying. But we must have love behind all of our actions. I just pray that as boldness and clarity develop begin to flow from my mouth that the love and compassion would only grow with the boldness...

May His Kingdom come, and may I remind myself to care for Jesus in every person on every corner...thanks blogger for letting my ramble out my thoughts