His plain white shirt was worn and tattered. His jeans torn and faded. He sat slumped over against a rod iron fence on the side of a busy sidewalk in the middle of the city. His eyes, tired, sunken and sad, told a story of a hard life. He stared blankly out at the cars and people buzzing by, unnoticed by all. It was almost as if he did not even exist, as if he wasn’t human.
I first met John on a crisp fall afternoon. My best friend Sierra and I had decided to take a trip into the city after a long week of classes at our university. We needed a break. So, as most trips into the city go for us, we visited our favorite coffee shop, visited all our favorite boutiques and shops for some retail therapy and finished it out with lunch at our most favorite, trendiest place in the city…a renovated warehouse turned international food market. As we were walking down the road after lunch we passed by several people sitting on the sidewalk, some too incoherent from hunger to speak. Others were high or hung over. Something in each of us was stirred as we walked by, but neither of us did a thing. We just kept on talking and laughing, catching each other up on the latest happenings at school. A few minutes later we noticed a blonde haired middle aged man slumped over in his spot on the sidewalk. We walked right by him without saying a word. We got no more than 100 yards away and we both turned to each other and we knew we needed to go talk to this man.
As we approached this man, my heart was beating faster and faster with each step. I mean, I am a 22-year-old college student. My dad is a police officer and let me tell you, if he had been there he would not be allowing his daughter go talk to a homeless man in the middle of the city. But there I was, beginning to sit down next to this guy. Little did I know that the simple words we were about to say, “Hello. What’s your name?” could change the trajectory of a conversation, and even a person’s life. That simple question opened the door to a beautiful moment. This man proceeded to tell us his name was John. He had been in the military and suffered from PTSD. When he came home he became addicted to pain medicines and later crack cocaine. He lost everything. His family abandoned him. His home was taken away from him. He ended up on the streets and had been there ever since. He told us he struggled for years to get clean of his addiction and finally was successful and at that point he had been clean for four years. He had shared with us his hope to find a job and make enough money to rent an apartment and get his life back on track. He even shared that he actually had planned on going to open interviews for a job at a local manufacturing plant later that day but was fearful he would not be hired because of the way he was dressed. My heart broke for him. Then he pulled a small Bible out of the pocket of his jacket and a plastic cross necklace from under his shirt. “But these give me hope,” he said proudly as he held each item close to his chest. He flipped through the worn pages of his Bible sharing his favorite passages with us. I was absolutely at a loss for words. Just a few minutes earlier we approached a man who looked as if he had no life in him. All it took was a simple "hello." Yet day in and day out hundreds of people pass people like John by, not giving a care in the world about them or their circumstances.
The truth is, though I knew that God was leading me into missions I still struggled with the thought that I was better than the people I was called to serve. That’s messed up, y’all. That’s not God's heart for His people. I know that now. I had to learn that I was not above loving the unlovable. I had to decrease. I had to learn how to love well and love hard. Loving hard is just that…hard. Jesus never said it was easy. It's messy. People will let you down. You have to love them where they are. People just want to know that you care about them. What would the world look like if we loved that way? What would ministry look like if we loved that way? If we can look past the dirty clothes and the struggles and addictions and see people the way they are meant to be seen, we have unending capability of loving them with Jesus' love.
From time to time I run into John and every time I do, he knows who I am. He remembers that chilly November day when Sierra and I sat and talked with him. He remembers the day when someone listened to him and reminded him that he is still human. All people need to know they are loved. All people need to be reminded of their humanity.
We are the same, all of us. We all have flesh and bones and blood coursing through our veins. We all have hopes and aspirations. Though our journeys rarely look the same, we are all human. We all are equal and we all are capable of loving hard and worthy of being loved in return. It is not our job to judge or view others as less than ourselves. Our job is to lift the fallen, to restore the broken and to help heal the hurting.
So roll your sleeves up. Get your hands dirty. Humble yourself and love hard.
