A gray-haired man, in dirty jeans and a torn white shirt,
sat at the edge of the sidewalk. University students, class-bound, hustled by. Was
that a spot of blood on his face? He’s holding his head. He moaned as I passed
by. His smell followed me. A policeman will be along soon. If they call an ambulance,
the city will pay. Besides, helping is their job.
Returning the same way, I walked on the other side of the
street. The man was being loaded into the back of the ambulance as a police car
blocked a lane of traffic.
What would have allowed me to play that scene differently? I
knew my lines: “Can I help you? Let me call an ambulance. Don’t worry—I’ll pay.”
How could I have bent down to that classless man in full view of the elite? In the years since,
I’ve often wondered. Given that exact role again, would I play it differently? I don’t know.
But a few months ago, early one winter morning, God gave me
a similar role. On my morning walk, I approached a stalled Buick. Three Congolese
men poked and prodded under the hood. I asked a neighbor for jumper cables. He
recommended the corner mechanic. I carried the portable unit to the car,
without asking the cost.
By that time, a policeman had arrived and called a tow truck.
The truck arrived just as the car’s engine rumbled. With broad smiles, the men waved
off the truck and beamed at me. The mechanic charged me nothing.
Father, thank you for second chances.
Once driving home from church, I saw a car with a flat tire on the side of the interstate. Inside were 6 young black men, dressed as gang bangers. The Holy Spirit spoke to me and said,”Stop for those young men”. I was so surprised, I had to back up to them. They were as surprised as I was, they had been stranded for 3 hours because no one would stop for them. I learned a lot that night about judging by appearance.
Good for you! Good for them! Good for God for breaking through our prejudices.
Karen