“Good Morning.” I mumbled as I was passing the man standing outside the restaurant. I hadn’t really looked at him, assuming he was just another ‘homeless’ guy hanging around this neighborhood. But I thought, almost unconsciously, “These guys are everywhere, always begging for money.” I just shrugged with this thought and headed in for my Saturday breakfast, smugly knowing I had earned this good food and time to myself.
I did eat a monster breakfast, with eggs, hash browns, pancakes and a large glass of milk. On my way out, I stopped to talk to a couple of old timers I knew from here and also from the bar a few blocks down. We talked of nothing in particular, but I saw one of them looking over my shoulder and the talk seemed to ebb away. Turning to see what had distracted everyone, there at the door was a man dressed almost in rags. “Was it the same guy who was hanging around outside?” I wondered.
Quickly the little, round man I knew was the manager was on him and pretty soon we could hear an argument ensue. The ragged man was just asking for some money, anything, he seemed to be looking at me. But the manager was threatening, and the word ‘cop’ was coming up often. Soon, with his head down, the guy left, he seemed more ragged than when he came in. I was thinking about just sitting down with the old guys and having a cup of coffee, just so I could avoid going out and being confronted. But I thought, “No, this guy is not going to ruin my Saturday! I got things to do.” With that I headed to the cash register and paid my bill to the waitress who had been looking on when the disturbance had happened, she said as she gave me my change, “Happens all the time these days. It ain’t even safe to come to work in the morning! Someone needs to clear these bums out of this neighborhood!” I shook my head in distracted agreement, but something was nagging at me. It struck me that I might know this ‘ragged’ man who was at the center of this morning’s excitement. We had met before.
As I went out the door, I was actually looking for him, but to my surprise, he was no where in sight. Looking at my watch I saw it was after ten and decided to walk down to the bar and have a few quick ‘screwdrivers’ and talk to Jim, the guy who owned the place. Walking still distracted and now sure I knew the man in rags, I had my head down in concentration. A voice startled me out of my reverie, “Hey John, I thought that was you, man.” I turned, and Bob Turner was almost in my face. He was so dirty, and his eyes were blood shot, but it was definitely the same Bob who had worked with me over a year ago on the new Stouffers Food plant in Provo. I wanted to ask what had brought him to this state, but I knew, and trying to act like nothing was wrong, I said, “Bob, man, where have you been?” I stopped almost stuttering, I knew anything I said would sound lame. He just gave me a sad smile and said, “I have been in every hole in Utah and Nevada chasing the pipe… “I knew he was talking about crack cocaine and I shook my head almost in disgust and feeling superior because I had never taken up that addiction.
Bob saw my look and said, “Yeah, John. I know what your thinking. So, let’s cut this short. Can you help a brother out? How about 20 bucks for old times sake?” With that he laughed and coughed. Emaciated and sick, but I just wanted him away from me. I gave him the twenty and almost ran back to my truck. Bob’s laughter ringing in my ears.
When I was praying about what I should write this morning, this remembrance was brought to me in vivid tones. I could not figure out what I could share about this that would bring anyone closer to our God. Then the Holy Spirit reminded me of Jesus and his absolute love and compassion to anyone who was being held in Satan’s grip. Here I was an addict myself, but I had absolutely no compassion for a man who was so in need of it. I have told myself, then and even now, that he was already to far gone, I would have never been able to help Bob. And maybe that is true, but I could have given him the one thing that drug had taken away completely, understanding love.
I am reminded of the gospel of Matthew Chapter eight, “When Jesus came down from the mountainside, large crowds followed him. A man with leprosy came and knelt before him and said, “LORD, if you are willing, you can make me clean.” Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. “I am willing,” he said. “Be clean!” Immediately he was cleansed of his leprosy.” (Matthew 8: 1-3) No, I could not have healed my friend. Not as the faithless man I was then. But I could have reached out and touched him, not run from him as if he was an unclean leper. I cannot change the past, but today can offer the same love and healing Jesus did no matter what the condition of the person is standing in front of me. I still can’t heal anyone, but I know who can.
I never saw Bob again. I did not go back to that neighborhood for a month or so, avoiding it because of my fear of seeing him. Within that month, I heard that he had been arrested and convicted of robbery. To my shame, I was relieved. As time went by, I forgot about Bob, except every now and again, I would see a guy on the street and remember. Soon even that was gone until today. I know that his memory is a reminder that no man or woman is lost to our God. I no longer will run from the horrors of this world but prayerfully stand in the face of them knowing He strengthens me. I pray this for all.
Happy Sabbath and Blessings
John
12/7/18 c
