Confession XLXVII

I did nothing.

[Silence]

He stood there slumped over.  His trousers rolled half way to his knees.  With frail legs for old stumps holding him up.  He slouched, bent forward by too many years walking from door to door.  He was no peddler.  No evangelist decked out in shirt and tie going from door to door trying to save a world from fire hell and brimstone.  He belonged out at sea centuries earlier in the hot beating sun chasing after Moby Dick.  Not in Boston with a chill that licks your skin and makes you squeamish because springtime is tempting, but winter’s still here. 

And he belongs better dressed.

And housed, yes, I bet he needs a home.  His lack for attire screams street monger.  His rolled up cuffs, his wandering eyes, his confused gait; does he even know where he is?

[Pause]

I did nothing.

[End]

And for a second I think I caught his stare.  He noticed that someone was watching.  Whether that someone was me or the hundreds of others walking into City Place.  It’s then that I was judged.  Then that I was caught apathetic.  Then that I was caught indifferent, save my sympathy.  Then that I was caught in a selfish adultery where I chose to walk through the Starbucks door, buy my black Americano, and proceed to walk away with only one thought in my head:

“Why didn’t I do anything?”

[Silence]

That man wasn’t there the hours later when I walked back to City Place.  Maybe he found the door he was looking for.  Maybe he blended into a crowd of the housed and the homeless.  I don’t know where he went, but I know that half a day later I’m still thinking of him.  And I’m condemning myself for my pathetic apathy, for my criminal lack of care, for my infidelity with fellow flesh and blood, heart soul mind and God’s beloved; he is just like me, human and loved by God.  Now why can’t I love him just the same?

You read this and say to me, “No, no you can’t care for everyone in the world.  You can’t worry about every homeless person.  You can’t keep letting your heart break over the man sleeping on a street vent to keep warm during December.  You just can’t think on it as much as you do.”

“But I did nothing,” I plead and I plead and I regret and I guilt.

And you keep going on.  You keep telling me, “It doesn’t matter how much you give her.  She’ll still be homeless come tomorrow.  Why do you waste such amounts of money of them?  You know they’ll buy booze.  You know they’ll go back to drugs.  You know they won’t get the drive enough to sustain themselves.”  You say it like you’re shaking me with a breath pause between each word accentuating your point.  You yell at me, but it’s slow yells.  It’s like your convincing yourself that indifference is the only way to survive a sin-ridden world while you’re trying to convince me.  That sometimes you need to turn a blind eye.

And we argue.  And we disagree.  Because, then, why am I a Christian?

How do I claim Christ as my Savior, Christ as my first love, Christ as my one hope, and then not care for the needy?

How am I a Christian without displaying Christ’s love for the world?

My sacrifice of a few coins, maybe some bills even, will never compare to Christ’s sacrifice for my life.

Maybe I’m ridiculously extreme in saying that I failed Christ today by not giving to someone in need, but in all honesty, that’s what happened.  I failed my Lord and Savior.  I failed to love.  Yet, love never fails.  It’s we, in our display of love or the lack there of, who fail.

Because I did nothing.

[Pause]

May you love when it is needed to the extent of the need.  And may you never stop loving.

And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them.  (Acts 3:5)

[End]