"At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge," said the gentleman, taking up a pen, "it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, sir.""Are there no prisons?" asked Scrooge.
"Plenty of prisons," said the gentleman, laying down the pen again.
"And the Union workhouses?" demanded Scrooge. "Are they still in operation?"
"They are. Still," returned the gentleman, "I wish I could say they were not."
"The Treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigour, then?" said Scrooge.
"Both very busy, sir."
"Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course," said Scrooge. "I'm very glad to hear it."
"Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer of mind or body to the multitude," returned the gentleman, "a few of us are endeavoring to raise a fund to buy the Poor some meat and drink, and means of warmth. We choose this time because it is a time, of all others, when Want is keenly felt, and Abundance rejoices. What shall I put you down for?"
"Nothing!" Scrooge replied.
"You wish to be anonymous?"
"I wish to be left alone," said Scrooge. "Since you ask me what I wish, gentlemen, that is my answer. I don't make merry myself at Christmas, and I can't afford to make idle people merry. I help to support the establishments I have mentioned: they cost enough: and those who are badly off must go there."
"Many can't go there; and many would rather die."
"If they would rather die," said Scrooge, "they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population. Besides--excuse me--I don't know that."
"But you might know it," observed the gentleman.
"It's not my business," Scrooge returned. "It's enough for a man to understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people's. Mine occupies me constantly. Good afternoon, gentlemen!"
Seeing clearly that it would be useless to pursue their point, the gentlemen withdrew. Scrooge resumed his labours with an improved opinion of himself, and in a more facetious temper than was usual with him.
-- Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
As the sun finally begins to rise over the horizon, she makes her way to the lobby on the first floor of the building. As employees begin to arrive, the door is finally unlocked and she takes the opportunity to seat herself in one of the two chairs. This is perhaps the highlight of her day; after surviving another frigid night in the elements, she can feel warmth in her bones once more. All she owns is wrapped around her or is in the bag that she carries with her.
I saw her every morning for a while as I came downstairs to grab the mail. She never looked up. She would gaze out the glass as the sun rose higher and higher, but she would never look elsewhere. I would come down the stairs, and I would hope to catch her eyes. However, in all the days that I saw her, our eyes never met. Not once. She was either fixated on the rising sun or on the floor.
However, I do remember another set of eyes that I did catch once. I was leaving work and I was one of the last ones to leave as snow was quickly blanketing the world. Walking out of the warm building, I remember the cold hitting me so hard in the gut that it almost knocked the wind out of me. As the door closed behind me and I made my way to my car, I remember looking behind me. I caught the man's eyes. He was huddled up against the building, almost certainly seeking shelter from the chilled wind. I distinctly remember how large that man appeared as he wore every article of clothing he most likely owned. I also remember his eyes. They were not pathetic, desperate, or convicting. They were deep. Our eyes only met for a second, but it felt like a lifetime. Our eyes met, and we both agreed. We both felt sorry for each other.
I felt sorry for the man, as I rushed to my car to get out of the cold, knowing that he would remain huddled against the building as long as he could. As I started my car and patiently waited for the engine to warm up, I kept thinking about what I had seen in the man's eyes. I would have expected to see desperation, envy, and anger in the eyes of a man that had to weather the snow storm while surrounded by heated buildings on every side. Perhaps he was once maddened by the inhumanity of shop owners and home owners closing their doors to him merely because he didn't have a job or a home of his own. But the eyes I saw were past that. I saw eyes that looked at me with pity.
Why would a homeless person ever pity me?
I guess after a while, I would start to pity those that didn't see me or didn't stop to help me. I guess it is far more pitiful to be the one that turns a blind eye to the pain of another than to be the person in pain. I caught that man's eyes almost a year ago, and I can't stop thinking about them to this day. Sadly, I feel that the Lord taught me more about ministering mercy to others in those two eyes than in a lifetime in the church.
I learned that the homeless and destitute are human. I learned that I was looking into the eyes of an image bearer of God. I learned that I was looking at more than the shell of a broken person, but rather, I was looking at a fellow man with a beating heart and an estranged soul. I looked at an analogy of my life before Christ, and quickly saw the reality of this poor man's plight. In my darkest days, I never knew this man's pain and grief. When the world felt like it was crumbling all around me, I still had a bed to sleep in; I was still surrounded by people that loved me.
I learned that, despite my theology and my "heart"for my neighbor, I was still not ready to be Christlike. I was still not willing to decrease so that Christ might increase. I was still not willing to take up and bear my cross daily. I was still unwilling to serve others with love and compassion. I was still not willing to love God more than mammon, and I was still not prepared to be unclean so that my righteousness might reside wholly and completely in Christ my Savior.
I learned that I still prided myself in my ability to help those who need mercy the most by serving as a deacon in my local church and working for the city's rescue mission. I learned that that is not enough. I learned that the good Samaritan wasn't the man that picked up the phone, dialed 911, and called it all good. I learned that the good Samaritan was the man that risked his life to take the time to dress the naked and beaten man's wounds, pick him up from the road, place him upon his only mode of transportation as he walked alongside him to the nearest inn, paid for a room for the man as long it took him to heal, and told the innkeeper that he would cover any other expenses the man required.
Go and do likewise! I learned that that imperative isn't optional. It's not, Go and do likewise if you have enough time. Go and do likewise if you have an extra room in your house. Go and do likewise if you an extra bathroom for them to use. Go and do likewise by giving to the church and organizations that I have called to do this. Go and do likewise if you feel so compelled, but don't sweat it if you don't feel like you're the best person for the job.
As Christmas approaches, Christians will be reminded of a homeless family that arrived in a small town only to find that no one would welcome them into their home. They will be reminded of a King who didn't enter this world in a palace, a mansion, a large home, or even in the upper room. Rather, they will be reminded that Christ Jesus, King of kings, Lord of lords, God with Us, the Word that became flesh, was born homeless and spent his lifetime as a homeless man. He became poor so that we may be rich in Him.
The next time you see a homeless person, I don't expect you to invite them into your home. That takes great faith in Christ, and God help our unbelief. However, if you come away with anything from this silly blog post, I challenge you to look the next homeless person you see in the eyes. Let them know that you see them. Try not to shed a tear, try not to feel sorry for them, but rather, try to remember the words of Christ and take them as seriously as the words "It is finished!":
Whoever gives to the poor will not want,
but he who hides his eyes will get many a curse.
(Proverbs 28:27 ESV)
What, then, will you give to the poor? A warm smile? A warm meal? A warm bed? Warm clothes? A warm embrace? A warm invitation to join you at church? Anything would be better than a cold shoulder.
