Give or keep
Walking to school yesterday, I saw the older beggar man I sometimes see standing on the side of sidewalk, leaning on his cane with hand outstretched.
I felt convicted this morning.
"Give him something," I heard a voice inside saying. *
"But I don't want to get out my wallet on a busy street," I responded.
"Check the zippered purse pocket."
Oh, oops. I had kept a small bill in there for transportation.
"But what if doesn't really need it?"
"Just do it."
So as I approached the man, I dug into my pocket for the bill.
Ah, there it was, stuck in the pack of Orbit gum. I had my fingers around the bill, ready to pull it out.
But wait. This wasn't the same old man! This guy was younger! Surely he could still find some sort of job!
"Put it in his hands."
"Okay, God. You'll have to use it for good because I'm doing this. Please use it for You."
A brief moment, where my hand placed something in his. I didn't even look at him (you're not supposed to look at men you don't know) or pause my steps. Just plop and walk.
That was it.
But, oh, how much a struggle to do that!
It was so much easier buying flowers from the old ladies outside the metro and giving them more money than they ask for or just to old ladies sitting outside. Obviously they can't work, and their pensions are large enough to support them.
But begging men? And women who sit on the sidewalk everyday and teach their children to stick out their hands or follow and pet your arm while mumbling a pitiful plea?
That's harder. I actually find myself annoyed when I see them, knowing those children will grow up begging, that their mothers have forsaken any dignity and taken away their children's dignity as well.
I say that I want to give food to people I pass, but when do I have food in my hands?
After I go to the market.
And do I want to part with that food, knowing how much I spent and that I won't be able to go back for another day or so or more, knowing the plans I have for that food?
Of course not.
Lord, let my heart bleed just enough. Close my eyes to the cynical thoughts that pervade the want to do good.
Let me trust You with all I have.
* there really wasn't a dialogue in this, just me knowing what I should do. This was to illustrate the conflict.
I felt convicted this morning.
"Give him something," I heard a voice inside saying. *
"But I don't want to get out my wallet on a busy street," I responded.
"Check the zippered purse pocket."
Oh, oops. I had kept a small bill in there for transportation.
"But what if doesn't really need it?"
"Just do it."
So as I approached the man, I dug into my pocket for the bill.
Ah, there it was, stuck in the pack of Orbit gum. I had my fingers around the bill, ready to pull it out.
But wait. This wasn't the same old man! This guy was younger! Surely he could still find some sort of job!
"Put it in his hands."
"Okay, God. You'll have to use it for good because I'm doing this. Please use it for You."
A brief moment, where my hand placed something in his. I didn't even look at him (you're not supposed to look at men you don't know) or pause my steps. Just plop and walk.
That was it.
But, oh, how much a struggle to do that!
It was so much easier buying flowers from the old ladies outside the metro and giving them more money than they ask for or just to old ladies sitting outside. Obviously they can't work, and their pensions are large enough to support them.
But begging men? And women who sit on the sidewalk everyday and teach their children to stick out their hands or follow and pet your arm while mumbling a pitiful plea?
That's harder. I actually find myself annoyed when I see them, knowing those children will grow up begging, that their mothers have forsaken any dignity and taken away their children's dignity as well.
I say that I want to give food to people I pass, but when do I have food in my hands?
After I go to the market.
And do I want to part with that food, knowing how much I spent and that I won't be able to go back for another day or so or more, knowing the plans I have for that food?
Of course not.
Lord, let my heart bleed just enough. Close my eyes to the cynical thoughts that pervade the want to do good.
Let me trust You with all I have.
* there really wasn't a dialogue in this, just me knowing what I should do. This was to illustrate the conflict.