At that moment his disciples returned, and were amazed that he was talking with a woman, but still no one said, “What are you looking for?” or “Why are you talking with her?” The woman left her water jar and went into the town and said to the people, “Come see a man who told me everything I have done. Could he possibly be the Christ?” // John 4:27-29
Next to my work's parking lot, a man experiencing homelessness has built a small shelter. Over the past several months, it started as a few packing pallets, and day by day he has added a wall here or an awning there. He has collected pans and brooms, vases and bicycles. He placed a rug at the makeshift entrance.
Over time it has grown taller and wider. It blocks the sidewalk and has several precariously balanced features hanging over the street.
Most days, I walk hurriedly around him. I'm focused on getting to the clinic or back home. When he's outside sweeping or lounging, I'll offer a stiff nod or a, "Buenos días, señor." But usually, I ignore him and his shelter while I go about my day.
But one cold and drizzly Friday morning in January, as I pulled up to the parking lot gate, I noticed that the entire structure was burned to ashes. My stomach dropped, and I hastily made the sign of the cross. Only the previous evening, I had noticed the structure completely intact.
After parking and getting out of my car, I slowly walked towards the sidewalk. Pieces and beams of burnt wood were scattered around the road. I prayed that the man was alright and that he had gotten out. But then I noticed him sitting below a salvaged pallet, whole but ruffled. I breathed a sigh of relief.
But then an overwhelming sense of shame enveloped me, and I started crying. How many times have I walked by this man and completely ignored him? How many times have I grumbled about the blocked sidewalk or scoffed at the discarded food with circling flies?
I head to work at the community clinic and pat myself on the back for serving the community and caring for my low-income patients, yet I ignore and even express revulsion towards this man just trying to build himself a home.
The shame I feel is deep, and I pray that God will use this to teach me something. But I do know that I failed to see the humanity in this man. I failed to see him as God's precious child.
Today, I pray that I see the humanity in everyone I encounter. I pray to take a pause when I start to grumble about an inconvenience and see Christ in all I meet. Lord, teach me how to do better and be better for Your precious children. Help me to imitate Christ by reaching out to those outside my comfort zone.
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