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...
