I sat,
with two friends,
in the picture window of a quaint restaurant just off the corner of the
town-square. The food and the company were both especially good that
day.
As we
talked, my attention
was drawn outside, across the street. There, walking into town, was a
man
who appeared to be carrying all his worldly goods on his back. He was
carrying,
a well-worn sign that read, "I will work for food." My heart
sank.
I
brought him to the attention
of my friends and noticed that others around us had stopped eating to
focus
on him. Heads moved in a mixture of sadness and disbelief. We
continued
with our meal, but his image lingered in my mind. We finished our
meal and went our separate ways. I had errands to do and quickly set
out
to accomplish them.
I
glanced toward the town
square, looking somewhat halfheartedly for the strange visitor. I was
fearful,
knowing that seeing again could call for some response. I drove through
town and saw nothing of him. I made some purchases at a store and got
back
in the car.
Deep
within me, the Spirit
of God kept speaking to me: "Don't go back to the office until you've
at
least driven once more around the square." Then with some
hesitancy,
I headed back into town. As I turned the square's third corner, I saw
him.
He was standing on the steps of the storefront church, going through
his
sack.
I
stopped and looked; feeling
both compelled to speak to him, yet wanting to drive on. The empty
parking
space on the corner seemed to be a sign from God: an invitation to
park.
I pulled in, got out and approached the town's newest visitor.
"Looking
for the pastor?"
I asked.
"Not
really," he replied,
"Just resting."
"Have you
eaten today?"
"Oh, I ate
something early
this morning."
"Would you
like to have
lunch with me?"
"Do you
have some work I
could do for you?"
"No work,"
I replied. "I
commute here to work from the city, but I would like to take you to
lunch."
"Sure,"
he replied with a
smile.
As he
began to gather his
things, I asked some surface questions.
"Where you
headed?"
"St.
Louis."
"Where you
from?"
"Oh, all
over; mostly Florida."
"How long
you been walking?"
"Fourteen
years," came the
reply.
I knew
I had met someone
unusual. We sat across from each other in the same restaurant I
had
left earlier. His face was weathered slightly beyond his 38 years. His
eyes were dark yet clear, and he spoke with an eloquence and
articulation
that was startling. He removed his jacket to reveal a bright red
T-shirt that said, "Jesus is The Never Ending Story."
Then
Daniel's story began
to unfold. He had seen rough times early in life. He'd made
some wrong choices and reaped the consequences. Fourteen years
earlier,
while back-packing across the country, he had stopped on the beach in
Daytona.
He tried to hire on with some men who were putting up a large tent and
some equipment. A concert, he thought.
He was
hired, but the tent
would not house a concert, but revival services, and in those services
he saw life more clearly. He gave his life over to God.
"Nothing's
been the same since," he said, "I felt the Lord telling me to keep
walking,
and so I did, some 14 years now."
"Ever
think of stopping?"
I asked.
"Oh, once
in a while, when
it seems to get the best of me. But God has given me this
calling.
I give out Bibles. That's what's in my sack. I work to buy
food and Bibles, and I give them out when His Spirit leads."
I sat
amazed. My homeless
friend was not homeless. He was on a mission and lived this way by
choice.
The question burned inside for a moment and then I asked: "What's it
like?"
"What?"
"To walk
into a town carrying
all your things on your back and to show your sign?"
"Oh, it
was humiliating at
first. People would stare and make comments. Once someone tossed
a piece of half-eaten bread and made a gesture that certainly didn't
make
me feel welcome. But then it became humbling to realize that God
was using me to touch lives and change people's concepts of other folks
like me."
My
concept was changing,
too. We finished our dessert and gathered his things. Just
outside the door, he paused. He turned to me and said, "Come, you
blessed of my Father and inherit the kingdom I've prepared for
you.
For when I was hungry you gave me food, when I was thirsty you gave me
drink, a stranger and you took me in."
I felt
as if we were on holy
ground. "Could you use another Bible?" I asked. He said he
preferred a certain translation. It traveled well and was not too
heavy.
It was also his personal favorite. "I've read through it 14
times,"
he said.
"I'm
not sure we've got one
of those, but let's stop by our church and see." I was able to
find
my new friend a Bible that would do well, and he seemed very
grateful.
"Where are you headed from here?"
"Well,
I found this little
map on the back of this amusement park coupon."
"Are you
hoping to hire
on there for awhile?"
"No, I
just figure I should
go there. I figure someone under that star right there needs a Bible,
so
that's where I'm going next."
He
smiled, and the warmth
of his spirit radiated the sincerity of his mission. I drove him
back to the town-square where we'd met two hours earlier, and as we
drove,
it started raining. We parked and unloaded his things.
"Would
you sign my autograph
book?" he asked. "I like to keep messages from folks I
meet."
I wrote in his little book that his commitment to his calling had
touched
my life. I encouraged him to stay strong. And I left him
with
a verse of scripture from Jeremiah, "I know the plans I have for you,"
declared the Lord, "Plans to prosper you and not to harm you.
Plans
to give you a future and a hope."
"Thanks,
man," he said.
"I know we just met and we're really just strangers, but I love you."
"I know,"
I said, "I love
you, too."
"The Lord
is good!"
"Yes, He
is. How long
has it been since someone hugged you?" I asked.
"A long
time," he replied.
And so
on the busy street
corner in the drizzling rain, my new friend and I embraced, and I felt
deep inside that I had been changed. He put his things on his
back,
smiled his winning smile and said, "See you in the New Jerusalem."
"I'll
be there!" was my reply.
He began his journey again. He headed away with his sign dangling from
his bedroll and pack of Bibles. He stopped, turned and said, "When you
see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?"
"You
bet," I shouted back,
"God bless."
"God
bless." And that was
the last I saw of him.
Late
that evening as I left
my office, the wind blew strong. The cold front had settled hard
upon the town. I bundled up and hurried to my car. As I sat
back and reached for the emergency brake, I saw them... a pair of
well-worn
brown work gloves neatly laid over the length of the handle. I
picked
them up and thought of my friend and wondered if his hands would stay
warm
that night without them.
Then I
remembered his words:
"If you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?"
Today
his gloves lie on my
desk in my office. They help me to see the world and its people
in
a new way, and they help me remember those two hours with my unique
friend
and to pray for his ministry.
"See
you in the New Jerusalem,"
he said. Yes, Daniel, I know I will...
