First Church of God

The Saturday night service is over, and I am anxious to leave.  Brian and I have plans to run tonight; I want to get started on that soon.  On my way out, (almost to the door), Ryan introduces me to a homeless guy.  The man has a lot to say, but has trouble saying it.  Being patient is a challenge as this man tries to form sentences to express the thoughts that tumble from his tongue.  I find myself assuming that drugs have somehow impaired his brain function.  Why would I assume that?  (I later discover he was in an accident of some kind) 

While considering how to appropriately avoid this man (and still appear to be a caring pastor), a still small voice reminds me of my experiment; to pray for everyone I see.   As a prayer forms in my heart, my eyes are opened to this man’s beauty.  His eyes shine with a light that must be Christ.  Joy flows from his face, even though he can’t quite get it out in words.  He is so happy to tell us about his life and what God has done for him.  In fact, his stories lead to joyful jumping; reminding me of the man Jesus healed who responded with leaps and shouts and praises to God.  Moments later, grateful tears flow down his face as he retells a story of his Father’s faithfulness.

Does this homeless guy have a name?  I discover that he does, and I won't ever refer to him as "the homeless guy" again.  He has a name.  He is a prescious person.  And to think I almost avoided him.  If not for my experiment, would I have ever prayed for him?  Would I have opened my heart to him? 

I wonder how often my hurried spirit has pushed me past a moment God meant for me to experience.