One Year RV'ing: The Man on the Sidewalk

I just walked past him. Maybe too closely.

He was basking in the Florida sun while stretched out on his back in a deep sleep that rendered him oblivious to the world around him. It is a beautiful day here in the South; the skies are blue, the air fresh, and the mild temperature perfect to enjoy the winter sun.

I’ve seen people like him many times before, but somehow I can’t get over this one. Maybe I will be able to reconcile this reality in my own mind after telling someone about what just happened.

There was a foul smell on the sidewalk in front of the convenience store at the gas station where we stopped to fuel up on our long cross-country trip. I walked by the storefront and as I turned the corner, there he was, on the cement, passed out from the last drink he must have mindlessly gobbled down some hours ago.

There is no way anyone plans to look like this!

His face caught the full sun with the rest of his body warmly dressed for the cold nights this time of year. Next to him was a grocery bag, half full, half open, with flies circling the half-eaten pieces of packaged food. His food, his dinner, or whatever, I presumed.

Why was I so startled? I don’t know. Maybe because it’s Florida and I’m looking forward to soaking up some winter sun in a day or so, in stark contrast to the way in which this man was soaking the rays. Why did I almost immediately think how ironic it was that all this was going down on a Sunday morning while all the saints were in church? I don’t know? Maybe because for most of my life I spent my Sundays in church—inside the walls—my favorite place in the world.

Looking at this man though, somehow something didn’t seem right. I know we are to gather as the church, be a family, grow in our walk with Christ, serve each other, and be faithful to support the local church. I know all that. I have books filled with passionate teachings I’ve preached over the years about the beautiful plan of God for us, His children, as well as for the body of Christ. But here I am on this beautiful Sunday morning outside at a gas station in Florida where God is my preacher and irony the illustration. Instead of sitting all dressed up in church, I’m crying like a baby for this man passed out on a sidewalk.

Where is his mother? When is the last time he felt her embrace? Has he ever? All cleaned up, he must be handsome and lovable. I have to believe that. I have to believe he was a perfect little baby once upon a time, but then what? I don’t have any idea but am well able to come up with one hundred and one scenarios, most of which are way too sad to ponder for long.

I wish I could have picked him up, cleaned him up, fed him, set him up in a place to stay, and went my merry way. Maybe I should have, but we all know that would not have solved his

problems—maybe, maybe not . . . But today I want to hear the voice of God about this man and others like him. I want to be part of the solution for those who have given up, those who find their pain eased by chemicals that have them bound in chains of death. I vow to pray for them and all those who help them.

I want to stay humble and grateful for my own privileges and comforts. I have not done anything to deserve a wonderful life, just as he could not have done enough bad to ever end up like this! I want to stop complaining and instead help others. I want to feel what God feels, never to grow calloused in my own soft life.

I want to walk the path God has set for me even while I plan my own steps.

I want to know what to do the next time I meet someone in need, whether it’s the wealthy woman with an angry and broken heart in San Diego, the obese truck driver at the rest stop in Mississippi who is obviously killing himself through his lifestyle choices, the seemingly confident teenager in New Orleans who is dying of remorse at too young an age, the husband in Texas who is tempted to give in to the seductress at the coffee pot or on the computer screen, or the pregnant middle aged woman outside the grocery store who begs for a place to sleep safely one more night.

My heart simply breaks for humanity’s pain, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that I play a role in the process of restoration. We all do.

May we be bold to pray, bold to speak, and bold to act. May we be brave to obey, brave to get our hands dirty, and brave to go where He leads. May we be slow to judge others, slow to give up on people, and slow down in order to get up close and personal. May we be ready to reach out and not wait for someone else to do what God has called us to do.

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Photo: Pacific Coast Highway (PCH), Northern California