mark.

I debated whether to blog about this now, or ever.

I knew I was going to write about and figured this was a "personal journal" type of story. The kind I write that I don't want anyone to ever read, but that are the most important to me. I am currently in the midst of a "Free" high right now and writing is freeing for me, so I may as well write what I want and let people read it. (you'll hear more about the "Free" high soon, trust me).

I don't know if this will make me seem ignorant, mean, or just plain dumb, but I am not sure I care. This was a big deal to me today, and well, I want to remember it. I also don't want to come across as if I am bragging about some great thing I did. It wasn't great, it was humbling. So read if you want. Take what you want.

I've attended Crossroads church off and on for six years? maybe seven. I've done enough volunteering (serving on Thanksgiving, delivering Christmas presents, working at The Diner) to know that the people Crossroads "serve", go to Crossroads. It's not a secret that homeless people come to the services. It's not a secret that the needy are right in front of us. I know that, and I love that about Crossroads.

Get ready for a quote from an author in a book that was quoting someone else. I recently read Shane Claiborne's Irresistible Revolution. He quotes his teacher Tony Campolo who said:

"Jesus never says to the poor, 'Come find the church,' but he says to those of us in the church, 'Go into the world and find the poor, hungry, homeless, imprisoned.' Jesus in his disguises."

Ok. So, yeah. I don't think I do that.

I let the poor come to me...or to the places where I find it safe to "serve" them. Anyway, I'm not saying these are bad things to do, I just think I have a lot to learn. I was taught somewhere along the line that giving to homeless on the street meant they were going to take my money and buy drugs. So what? Who am I to decide what they spend the money on? I doubt they are homeless because they are just lazy, so they need the money no matter what it's for. I am not above them.

I need them more than they need me. I need the Jesus in disguise.

Today, Julie and I went downtown to look at Shepard Fairey's murals and first I took her to a coffee shop I don't go to often enough. Coffee Emporium. I parked in the alley right next to the coffee shop and there were several homeless people down the street when we went in to get the coffee. It's downtown and that's pretty much to be expected.

On our way back to our car, one man started approaching us and my first instinct was to get in my car and just drive off. Julie was in a hurry and I didn't have time for him to beg me for money. Only, I knew I had $4 in my wallet. Obviously not much money, but one thing about me is, I NEVER have cash. I mean like, never. The only reason I had it was to pay cab fare last night.

So, I didn't drive off. I let the man approach my car and he said "put on your seatbelt and if no one has told you they love you today, know that God loves you and I love you".

Then he continued tell me about the Streetvibes newspaper he was selling for the homeless coalition. (He didn't actually have any of these papers, he was sold out). I let him tell me all about it anyway.

Then he asked me if I had been to Crossroads. I said yes and he begins to tell me about all the services he's attended, how much he loves it, and how he learned the hard way not to sit too close because Brian spits on the front row when he talks. He told me about the Catholic church he's attended, about how he was in the military. I continued to sit in the car and talk to the man for nearly 20 minutes. At one point he started to tear up and and asked me if I was a psychologist or if I worked for some charity or hospital or something. I said no, but he didn't believe me.

I'm not exactly sure what really happened today as I sat in my comfy car and listened to this homeless man talk to me. He was touched and I was touched even more. I gave him the $4 and he gave me directions to the closest Shepard Fairey mural.

He showed me which stoop he lives on and I plan on going back next week at the same time in hopes that he's there. I hope I see Mark again and that he will have coffee with me, because I can't to hear what he has to say next.