FAIL'd... But Lesson Learned

 “For the poor shall never cease out of the land: therefore I command thee, saying, Thou shalt open thine hand wide unto thy brother, to thy poor, and to thy needy, in thy land.”  --Deuteronomy 15:11

Have you ever thought you’d learned something through reading or hearing, but when put to the test, you weren’t ready and wished God would give you another chance?  While in the area for a friend’s wedding, my family and I took a trip into Philadelphia to see the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall and possibly a museum or two.  We were ill-prepared in more ways than one.  Using our GPS, we tried to locate a parking garage close by, but we ended up parking ten blocks away.  Since it was such a beautiful day and we wanted to take some pictures of the amazing architecture we’d passed, we decided to walk.  Although ten city blocks was a greater distance than we’d anticipated in the hot blazing sun, I’m really glad we walked, because I learned a valuable lesson that day.

I had just finished the two books about homelessness by Ron Hall and Denver Moore, but it hadn’t even occurred to me that we might see homeless people on the streets of downtown Philadelphia.  Having been to Boston several times, despite seeing street musicians playing for money, I don’t remember seeing homeless people nor experiencing the pungent smells of urine and filth.  As we walked around the gorgeous City Hall building in Centre Square, I noticed a man several yards away sleeping atop cardboard on one of the benches under the shade of some trees.  We came to the corner of the building and saw a very thin, ragged-looking woman with hollow eyes sitting on some steps.  I wondered if she was homeless and wanted to give her some money or ask if she needed anything, but I didn’t quite know how to go about it, so we just passed by.  At the back of the building heading toward Market Street sat an older black woman asking for a match.  We apologized for not having a match to give her.  I wondered if I could perhaps buy some matches for her, but since I was with my family and didn’t know where to purchase any, I didn’t say anything.  As we kept walking, a young, strong-looking black man had just shoved a lighter into his pocket after lighting his cigarette.  I wanted to stop and ask him if he could offer the woman a light, but I was out of my element, and I was sure she’d ask him anyway when he passed by.  I turned to look and wish I’d turned sooner, prepared to capture the moment with my camera, but it blessed me to see a young man being kind to an old woman.

As we walked down Market Street, I saw another thin man sleeping on a covered bus bench with a shirt over his face, a young man sitting on the sidewalk against a brick wall with an open suitcase and a cardboard sign, and an overweight woman asking passersby to buy her something to eat.  We walked a little further, and I finally stopped, took out my wallet and shoved a bill into my pocket to be easily accessible.  “What is that for?” my daughter asked.

“For a homeless person,” I replied.

As we drew closer to Independence Park, we didn’t seem to encounter another homeless person.  After seeing the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall, we decided to utilize the transportation system so that we might have more time to visit a museum or the zoo.  But first, we stopped at a nearby Dairy Queen to use their facilities and get something cold to drink.  As we sat for a moment and I drank my ice cold raspberry lemonade, I thought about the homeless who must be hot and thirsty, so I bought a bottled water to go along with the money I had shoved in my pocket.  I prayed God would give me another chance... but... He didn’t.  As we walked the block toward a shuttle bus stop, I purposefully looked for a homeless person to bless.  I wish I had asked my family if we could have kept walking, but I thought surely, we could ride the bus to City Hall and encounter someone there.  We didn’t.  Why, I wondered, wasn’t God giving me another chance?

Remember the young man with the open suitcase?  I had wanted to take his picture, as well as others, and capture the plight of the homeless, but I also try to consider a person’s privacy and dignity.  I could’ve asked for permission or simply taken a picture of his suitcase and cardboard sign.  Did you wonder what the sign said?  It said something like, “Today is my 22nd birthday, and I have nothing...”  Despite what I thought I’d learned from Denver Moore’s admonition to not judge a person, I had judged the young man.  Although my heart went out to him, I had judged his sign to be merely a way of tugging at heartstrings to gain more sympathy and money.  Maybe it really was his 22nd birthday, but even if it wasn’t, he was obviously in some kind of need... and he was someone’s son.  If God had allowed me to give that bottle of water and money to someone else, it’s likely I would’ve felt good about myself and neglected to reflect on my failure to try to get to know a person, ask his name, and show the unconditional love of Christ.  I failed, but I truly hope the lesson was learned.

Book Review: What Difference Do It Make?

Cover image used by permission

What Difference Do It Make? is the second book featuring Ron Hall and Denver Moore, two unlikely friends brought together by a very special, yet ordinary woman.  The book also contains anecdotes from others around the world affected and inspired by the first book Same Kind of Difference As Me, a story of how one woman's faith brought the two men together and led to the transformation of many.  Although you don't need to read the first book to get a sense of the background and overall story, I think you will be the richer for it.

I was again moved by Denver's faith and wisdom despite the unbelievable life he experienced prior to his encounter with 'Miss Debbie'.  And I was touched and convicted by Ron's ability to forgive and demonstrate unconditional love to his 'ornery' father.  I also found it surprising and quite curious that his father regarded one particular gift above any other he'd received.  Not only that, but the fact Ron had learned so much from Denver and as a result of ministering to the homeless, he previously would never have even considered giving his father the gift.  Getting to know a person truly does make a real and abiding difference in how effectively we are able to love them.  What difference do it make?  It can make a huge difference.

After writing a review for Same Kind of Difference As Me, I was contacted by Thomas Nelson Publishing and asked if I would like to receive a complimentary copy of the second book with no obligation to write another review.  Thank you, Thomas Nelson Publishing, for giving me the privilege and opportunity.  (^_^)

Book Review: SKoDAM

Cover image used with permission

Same Kind of Different As Me  is a heartwarming and inspirational account of two men from different backgrounds and social strata, brought together by a very special woman.  The story draws you in and takes you on two separate journeys until the two paths meet and they essentially become one.  This is a story of faith, friendship, hope, and love... a powerful combination that leads to amazing transformations.

There were several things I liked about the book.  Although I didn’t pick cotton on a plantation, my sisters and I did pick tobacco one summer, and on our way to work, we drove past little run-down shacks.  I often wondered if slaves had ever lived in them.  Anyway, it brought back memories of home in the South.  I like how the story was told from two different perspectives... through two different pairs of eyes.  And I like how the authors wrote conversations in natural form using distinctive idiomatic dialogue.

I was touched by the love Ron had for his wife as expressed in his openness and desire to support her in fulfilling what she believed God was calling her to do... to minister to the homeless.  And I was both convicted and inspired by Debbie’s and Denver’s faith and close relationship with the Lord, as well as their love in action for those who aren’t always very lovely or easy to love.

I have a few friends who minister in homeless shelters in L.A. and VT, including one dear friend who actually experienced homelessness himself.  Now he is able to comfort others with the comfort he himself has received  (2 Cor. 1:4).   Although I myself have never worked in a homeless shelter, I have helped serve in a soup kitchen and have eaten alongside some who were not necessarily homeless, but just needed a bite to eat.  I still remember, Stacey, one young lady who caught my attention.  Even though it’s been years since I met her in the soup kitchen, once in a while we see each other downtown and stop to chat.  She has a beautiful little boy now.  I wish I knew then what I know now through the experiences my friends have shared and through the things contained in the book.  People are the same kind of different as me, and sometimes it just takes a bit more patience, determination, and genuine love to draw them out.  Like Bryan Duncan’s song Don’t You Wanna Rap  says, “The heart is the same, it’s just a different face.”