It's Simple

A bruised reed he will not break, a smoldering wick he will not snuff out…
Matthew 12:20

The caller's message on the Grace House answering machine rambled on, his voice trailing off as he told his general location….was a senior citizen…had some money…would be glad to donate if we would just help him out…needed a sleeping bag…someplace to shower and rest…just needed some help. Once again, he told us where he was…then the phone call ended.

To be honest, I was tired. We had nearly 47 people in the house during the day. The Ministers of Hospitality had just finished cleaning the Grace House, paperwork was completed after the doors were closed, gusty winds blowing…early evening lights growing dim. Maybe I can still find him. I had promised to meet and pray with another homeless guest. Her friend called me in desperation earlier in the day out of worry and concern. "She's really sick Cindy." "I will stop by after work to pray with her." I promised. The man who called would be nearby, surely I could find him along the way.

After I met with our guest, I looked for the elderly homeless man. It was dark now…store parking lot, familiar shadows…men with bikes, backpacks stuffed with earthly belongings…worn out gloves barely covering arthritic fingers. "Excuse me, are you Dennis?" "Nope!" came the reply. I wondered, is this yet another homeless man? Did I miss the one who called, only to find another in need?

"It could be that guy over there, the one by the gas station…does he have a shopping cart, gray beard?" I didn't know. I hadn't met him yet. I introduced myself, and asked if he was also homeless. "Yes, I've been living this way for a long while….had a good job once, was an engineer…designed lots of things for NASA." (I never know what to believe, sometimes they also tell me they went to Mars yesterday!) I listened. Suddenly he tugged at his gloves, shoving his gnarly hand into his coat pocket. "I've got the designs right here…right here!" he says excitedly.

Sure enough…designs with careful measurements drawn in color. Fascinating…intelligent designs! He wanted to tell me all about them. I listened for a time, both of us growing more wet in the pelting rain. I told him they were wonderful designs and reminded him I was looking for Dennis. Suddenly he remembered that I too had a job, that I was on a mission. "I think he's over there, pointing his cold finger toward the gas station across the street. "You'll probably find him by the gas station". I thanked him for sharing his designs, asked if there was anything he needed. "Well, I seem to have lost my hat…it gets cold out here in the wind ya know." "Yes, I know. Very cold!" I didn't have a hat for him, but I had a jacket with a hood. "No thanks…I'm sure I'll find my hat here somewhere…I probably dropped it…I don't need anything else."

It had been a long while since I'd been driving around town in my car helping homeless people. Grace House has been a home away from homelessness for our guests for four years now. It felt oddly familiar though, to be driving around scanning the horizon for shadows of homeless people hiding in the night. I drove slowly, not wanting to miss him. Sure enough…there he was…wet, cold, shopping cart stacked high. He was talking to a man in a car. The man in the car had just delivered a sleeping bag. Dennis was thanking him.

I introduced myself, told him I was the person he called. I gave him a calendar with service information, some dry socks, a tarp and some food. Said he needed a place to stay, had some money he did…just didn't know if there was a motel nearby. I pointed out the motel, barely 200 yards away. "I tried to stay there once, but they have electric wires in the doorway…and they come in your room at night because they have a key to get in and take your things."

His shopping cart was loaded down, and my car was full of supplies. The intake center had closed for the day and there was no way to get him into the shelter that night. The least I could do was give him a a tarp and some dry socks. The blankets and jackets were still in my car from the night before when we distributed them to guests at the rotating shelter.

Suddenly a gust of wind blew me backward…I clenched my rain jacket closer. His was held together with duct tape. I offered reassurance. "I know people who have stayed at that motel…I'm sure THAT motel doesn't have electric wires…it's a safe place for you tonight."

He shifted nervously and changed the subject. "I have some money ya know...got it right here." He pulled out a wallet and proceeded to take money out of the billfold. He lowered his head and said softly, "I won't be staying at that motel tonight, but I sure want to thank you for your charity and kindness…I'd like to pay you." I shook my head. "I can't take your money."

"I can't afford to lose my things…they have a key to the room and my things might get taken. You see, the Lord told me to buy some food, to keep it right here in this cart in case someone comes along and needs it. I got to take care of the Lord's food ya know."

I looked carefully into his eyes this time and knew I was standing on Holy Ground. His eyes were soft blue, he had a meek and gentle spirit…confused mind perhaps but a…pure, pure heart. He was determined to protect the Lord's food and follow His instructions at all cost. He was desperate to give an offering to the Lord in return for kindness received. "I really want to pay you for your kindness."

I stood facing him as the winds blew and thought of the story Mother Teresa tells of a poor man in Calcutta. The poor man had worked many months for money he wanted to donate to the Sisters of Charity. Mother Teresa knew that the little he earned, would not go very far. At first she refused, not willing to take his hard earned money. The look of disappointment on his face made such an impression on her however, that she suddenly realized for this man….it was a gift for him to give…it was an offering to our Lord…and she could not deny him the gift of his offering.

I gently took a dollar from his hand. "Thank you Dennis, your one dollar here will help someone else…thank you for your offering." His blue eyes were wet with tears now. He whispered, "Thank you…I'm glad."

After I left Dennis…I held the dollar in my hand…and repeated, "Sacred…sacred gift." >

Tears of anger poured out as I drove back into town holding the dollar carefully in my hand. I thought of the pain, the suffering, the injustice. Alone in my car I cried out to God, "WHY, in a country so wealthy…with Governors who drive Hummers and trillions of dollars spent on wars that snuff out humanity around the world, do we allow budget cuts in sacrifice of the poor and marginal? It's just not FAIR!"

I called the local homeless shelter the next day and asked if they still had an outreach program…did they still go around helping those in need around town? I wanted someone with some professional skills in counseling or mental health to help Dennis. "No, that was a grant we received one year…we don't do that any more" came the statement of fact from the shelter employee. "There's not much we can do."

Monday….the phone rang again. "Hi Cindy, this is Pastor Dan at UCC…I wanted to ask you about a man we found on our church property….says his name is Dennis…do you know him?"

"Does he have gentle blue eyes, a gray beard and seem a little confused?" "Yes! That's him!"

"Here is what I know Dan"...and I proceeded to share the story of meeting Dennis. "If you can get him to the shelter, they might be able to help him…He's pretty broken, but gentle and meek. I hope you can help him."

A bruised reed he will not break, a smoldering wick he will not put out, till he leads justice to victory."

Please join me in prayer for all those who struggle with mental illness, poverty, broken hearts, broken bodies, broken homes…and let us claim the promise together…A bruised reed you will not break Lord, a smoldering wick you will not put out...lead justice to victory Lord Jesus…Oh…and thank you…for the dollar.

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