Seeing the Unseen
I’ve committed a lot of embarrassing acts in my life, but none more mortifying than the time I ran over a man’s bike in a Starbucks parking lot. You’re probably thinking that doesn’t sound too bad. It’s here I should mention that the man was homeless. And it was his first day living on the street. Yep. I rounded the curve and flattened his bike, his only mode of transportation, under the tires of my brand new Honda. It was awful. No apology, no matter how sincere, could cover the loss. I didn’t have the money to purchase him a new bike, but I offered to take him into the Starbucks and treat him to coffee and breakfast. While we stood in line together I got to know his name and his story. Twenty minutes later we were hugging and he graciously granted me forgiveness. I fervently prayed God would provide him with a new bike and I trust He did. It took me a long time to recover from that epic mistake. I was deeply humbled, but in the end, I hope the man felt seen and loved by me.
When I was in college, I worked as a youth ministry intern at my home church. Every summer, for a week in July, we took a group of high school students to San Diego for a conference called Operation Good News. We attended classes each morning, learning about all different religions and how to engage in intelligent conversation with those of opposing faiths. In the afternoons we’d partner up and head out to the streets and beaches of San Diego, chatting with anyone we could about the saving grace of Jesus. One particular afternoon, my partner and I were sitting outside a Jamba Juice, enjoying a quick snack before we continued on our way. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a man rummaging through the trash can. He had a shopping cart loaded to the brim with what I assume was everything he owned. I looked down at my fruit salad and bagel, and my heart began to race. My palms started to sweat and I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. God’s still, small voice suddenly became glaringly loud. My internal conversation with God went something like this:
God: “I know you see him. He’s my child too.”
(I could smell the man’s body odor from several feet away. He was mumbling to himself. I’d never approached a homeless person before. Ever. ) Me: “But what if he’s crazy? What if he yells at me? What if he doesn’t want handouts?”
God: “That man is made in my image. And whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me.”
I knew what I needed to do. I reluctantly got up from the table, grabbed my unopened salad and freshly cut bagel, and walked over to the man, still rooting around in the trash. I cleared my throat. “Sir?” He didn’t hear me. I shrugged and started to turn back to my seat. Oh well. I tried. God didn’t let me get away with that so easily. The man turned to face me. “Huh?” he grunted. “Oh, um,” I stammered. “Would you like something to eat? I have this fruit salad and a bagel. It’s all yours if you want.” The man stared at me, then at the food in my outstretched hand. His eyes moistened. He took the food and simply said, “Bless you.” I smiled and nodded, then watched him turn and shuffle away. My heartfelt ten times lighter. I never did eat lunch that day, but I don’t remember ever feeling hungry. I had dozens of conversations with strangers that week, sharing openly and honestly about the love of Jesus. I don’t remember any of them now really. But my encounter with that man was one I’ll never forget because I didn’t tell him about Jesus, I showed him, Jesus. I saw Him because God saw Him, and that is exactly what I was called to do.
Since that week in San Diego, my heart for the homeless has been fostered through many other opportunities. I joined my husband and a group of junior high students on a trip to inner-city San Francisco a couple of times, visiting with people living on the streets and providing them with food and companionship. Learning their names and hearing their stories broke down any stereotypes I had formed about the homeless community. There was a young couple we met, the same age as my husband and me at the time. The man had lost his job and their family wasn’t able to support them. They’d been living paycheck to paycheck, like so many of us do, and in a matter of days, they’d lost their home. I looked at them and realized, we were just one hard day away from being on the streets ourselves.
Our time on the streets of San Francisco was so impactful for me. We spent hours serving in soup kitchens, sharing bagged lunches with the homeless, and even spending a full day being “homeless” ourselves. We couldn’t shower, use a mirror, or carry more than a few dollars with us. We had to find food and free shelter. It was a miserable time hiking the hills of that blustery city, and I became very aware of how often I checked my appearance when I suddenly was not allowed to do so. I also noticed all the deterrents aimed specifically at the homeless community; spikes on the lower window sills, and signage in restaurants. I was even kicked out of the public library for “overstaying my welcome.” I was looked at with both judgment and pity by strangers walking by. They had no idea I was only participating in an experiment, and in reality, I was just as much part of middle-class society as they were. In the eyes of many of them, I wasn’t even worth acknowledging. My humanity had diminished. It was eye-opening and so very convicting. How many times had I passed by a homeless person, shooting them a brief, pitiful smile, or even avoiding eye contact altogether? Those people, like me, have names, and stories and they are deeply loved by God. I have never looked at a homeless person the same since.
Whenever I encounter someone living on the streets now, whether it’s walking past them on the sidewalk or through the window of my car at an intersection, I take care to ask their name. And if time allows, I address them by name and let them know I’m praying for them. When I get home, I write their name down and post them on my fridge, as a reminder that even while I’m enjoying the four walls of my warm home and eating from my full fridge, those people, those fellow humans, are still out there, barely getting by. I have yet to meet someone on the streets who doesn’t look stunned when I ask them their name. It’s likely the first time in a long time someone has bothered to look them directly in the eyes and recognize them as more than a beggar or an outcast, but as, 5-year-old human beings with a name and a story. It takes seconds to show this simple act of respect and offer someone their dignity back, if only for a moment.
My kids have become engaged in loving the homeless community now too, and I just love seeing their little hearts swell as they shop for food and supplies to distribute to those in need. We often see people on the street corners here in our city, seeking any provision they can. We keep water bottles, granola bars, and bags of toiletries on hand in our van, ready to pass through the window at a moment’s notice. We often decorate the bags with colorful pictures and Bible verses. We pray over each bag before we place it in the car. God knows exactly who those items will go to and we trust He will use them to meet the needs of His beloved. I love hearing my 5-year-old son yell from his backseat window, “What’s your name? God loves you!” to anyone we talk to. My kids don’t fear those who look different than them. Bedraggled beggars on the corner don’t make them nervous. They don’t cringe or shy away. Instead, they gravitate toward them, ask their name and how they can pray for them. It’s a beautiful thing. I wish it hadn’t taken me twenty years to see people the way my kids see them, the way God sees them.
John 3:16 is well known for summarizing the gospel message. But I’ve noticed something else hidden in its words. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his one and only son…” God so loved the world that He gave. Love begins with generosity. Love begins with giving away. We are called to give, and not just give, but give generously and cheerfully. “Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work,” 2 Corinthians 9:7-8. We have all that we need. In response to God’s provision for us, may we in turn provide for those less fortunate, be it a bottle of water or a heartfelt smile. May we look to those who often go unseen by the world and simply say, “I see you. I see you because God sees you.”
There are still times I find myself giving reluctantly, I’m sorry to say. Engaging strangers, often disheveled in appearance and intimidating in demeanor, is never easy or convenient. Obeying God’s voice rarely is. He often calls us to step outside our comfort zone to pursue the people worth pursuing. That’s exactly what Jesus did. He stepped down from Heaven to live among us. He showed us how to love the unloved, see the unseen, and touch the untouchable. To truly follow Him, we must do as He did. I can confidently tell you that when we do, the reward is worth the sacrifice.