Thus says the Lord of hosts, Render true judgments, show kindness and mercy to one another, do not oppress the widow, the fatherless, the sojourner, or the poor and let non of you devise evil against another in your heart. (Zechariah 7:9&10)
Night’s come. I wonder where John is. I bet he’s sleeping on the porch outside the church. That means he has to get up early tomorrow; it’s Sunday. I don’t think he’s the religious type, but he has that exposure every day. I mean, God’s got to see the man. He’s got to know about Old Man John’s situation.
I wonder if anyone else notices him? All they probably see is some helpless homeless guy. But John’s a fighter and none of them know that. None of them know that John beat cancer. That he was only meant to live for six months and the doctors said that over two years ago.
No one knows that he hates breathing. I’ve never met a person that doesn’t like breathing. Someone that actually abhors breathing. Let alone, someone that thinks about breathing. It’s a task for him, a mission. It’s nothing that comes natural any more; he lives by the oxygen from a tank. And he lives by a purchased tank of air – John, a poor man having to use his social security check to buy air just so he can breathe when he doesn’t even want to breathe any more.
He purchases the very physical essence life, while it’s free for the rest of us.
No one should ever have to buy their own air, their own breath, their own life. No one should have to buy their own life from a pharmacy. No – no one should have to buy their own life. No one. No one should have to buy their own life support. Then live on a bench. Then sleep on a porch. Then have to wait for the public restrooms to open just to excrete what bodily fluids you have left.
“I don’t go in public. There’s something messed up about that. All them kids from the bars piss in the graveyard or in the alleys. That’s messed up. You don’t s*** in public,” John sternly told me. “I’ll wait. I’ll wait till it’s morning and those restrooms over there open. Even if it hurts, I’ll wait.”
I didn’t know what to say back to that. There was nothing.
I never even thought about the toilet matter before. It just didn’t occur to me whenever I gave a homeless person some change. What a simple need. You know, I take that for granted – going to the bathroom. My house has 2 ½ baths in it. That means I have three toilets in one house. John – John waits on the town.
We’re all the same. We all have the same needs, but most of us don’t even acknowledge those needs. Right now I’m sitting with a full glass of water. And I’ll probably be running to the toilet soon enough. But I can. I have those facilities at my disposal.
You know, I remember having to hold “it” when I was younger. I remember those infamous family trips. You know, the ones where you drive for hours on end without ever reaching your destination. And I was totally the kid always complaining, “Are we there yet?” The one that never shuts up. The one that could come up with a million-and-one noises to keep myself occupied. And “holding my horses” was never fun. Being patient and waiting for the toilet was literally a pain. To the point that sometimes we did have to pull over.
It’s only peeing. It’s only a simple matter of peeing. But it’s not so simple to John. Someone who still holds his dignity in life. Someone who knows manners to a certain extent. Someone who knows the difference between defacing a hallowed piece of property with your own fecal matter and respect. And that someone sleeps on a porch, resides on a bench, and watches the world pass him by while he struggles to breathe taxed air.
I’ve lived 23 years with hardly acknowledging those less fortunate than me. Sure, I’ve gone on mission trips to the poorest cities in the world – the City of the Sun built on a dump. I’ve emptied my pockets for a beggar – another human. I’ve given to the poor contrite silent man standing outside the Vatican walls with his hat out hoping to hear a clink. I’ve bought little meals for the poor – bought them waters, and sandwiches and said a quick “God bless you” then moved on with life. I’ve bought the Big Issue they sell so they might have the chance at earning a small living. I’ve sat with them before and talked, but only if I knew them like I knew John.
Then I’ve called myself a man after God’s own heart.
But there’s still something wrong with this. The switch in thinking I’m pursuing God while leaving others in the dust. They’re two different mentalities clashing.
- Pursue God.
- Give to others.
Those two walks in life seem like they should be on the same road. I think they are.
What do you think?
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