I walked past a homeless man tonight....
Not that that's anything new for me. I live in a city where homelessness is relatively commonplace. Even in the richest parts of the city, people are still out on the streets. I'm even friends with some of them.
For some reason tonight was different. I walked past a man - I almost didn't notice him. He wasn't panhandling, he wasn't crazy, he wasn't wandering. He was trying to sleep. On a bench. I was walking and talking with my mom (who's here to visit) and a very dear friend who we'd gone out to dinner with, and I almost walked right past him without even noticing.
But then I did notice. And maybe it's just because I was a little over the edge already that night, or I was just tired, or something else. It probably has something to do with the fact that it's that time of year again, when the weather starts getting a little colder, and that I happened to be right along the National Mall, and very, very close to the White House. But I did notice. And it shut me up good. He was huddled under a blanket. It was a worn blanket - I imagine that man, who didn't look more than 5 or 10 years older than me, had been on the streets for a while. He didn't have more than a backpack and a bag of things. And it looked like he was wearing a good portion of his clothes - mostly to keep warm. And these are not, by any means, the coldest months in DC. Not even close.
And my heart felt like it had been wrenched from me. It's not fair. I want to spend paragraphs and paragraphs railing in anger about the injustice of it all. I want to ask the Lord, "why?!" over and over again until He himself steps down from on high and offers this man food and drink and a place to live and comfort. I want to be angry, I want to march down to the president's house, I want to take down all the people who live right next door to me who live in multi-million dollar homes with rooms they use once a year and cars that cost almost as much, and yell and scream and cry until there are no more homeless people. And don't get me wrong, I am angry, and I am hurting because of that injustice - that will not end until Jesus himself returns. I am royally, royally pissed off. And heartbroken beyond measure.
But then I walked past.
I. Walked. Right. Past. That. Man. Without stopping. Without even the slightest flinch in my step.
And then I felt nauseous. I felt like I'd been kicked in the gut, and like my heart (which had previously been removed from my chest) had been stomped on and crushed. And I am so, so ashamed. I should have stopped. I should have asked him if he wanted some warm coffee, or a meal, or a kind ear. I should have asked him if I could run to target, to get another blanket or a heavy jacket for him.
But I didn't. In my pride and arrogance, in my self-righteousness, I kept walking. I did a dis-service to that man when I ignored him. I hated him, in that moment. I hated him...
And so I will continue to be angry, about this gruesome injustice being done in this world. I will be heartbroken. And I will speak up about it.
But I also need to change my attitude - I can be angry about it, but anger itself accomplished nothing. I must be angry BECAUSE I love those people.
And that requires that I actually, do love these people.
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