You see that tent? Maria lives there. She has no coat. It’s 36 degrees right now; this weekend, I’m hearing more like single digits.
See the man with the grey coat and white stripe? It’s actually a light jacket, with a tear in it. He has no coat either.
As I walked with my Mom up to Maria’s “house”, so my Mom could give her a disaster blanket, I noticed some things. Odd spots on the concrete. Smells. Everything from alcohol, to urine, to rotten things…
Welcome to their home.
You know, I could just sit and cry about it. My heart is wrenched. How could it not be? All my feelings of self pity vanish at the sight of it.
I could look at Maria’s home, sitting in everything from water to alcohol to excrement, and say ‘I’m sorry.’
Survey their restroom, merely an empty spot below the concrete wall, with no privacy, and I could just feel helpless.
Or…
I could do what Jesus did.
I’ll admit. It still grosses me out to shake their sticky hands. To walk through liquids on the pavement, consisting of what, I don’t know, but have a pretty good guess.
Did I feel disgusting to Christ? By all rights, I should have.
But, gross or not, He came to save me. Grasped my hand, sticky with sin. Walked through the mess I had made…
And decided to become just like me, only sinless.
I know it seems this is all I talk about any more. I promise, I’m trying to think of something else to talk about. But after a Christmas eve spent with these people, who happen to be my own flesh…
I can’t help but share about them. And these are only one small group of the people who need Him, in this, a small city…
Friends, He cares for You. I couldn't be more sure of anything. This week, ponder that.
Merry Christmas!
-Schane
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