There is a man that shows up every few weeks at my office. He walks in with eyes wide, fearful like, hands clasped together, clothes dirty and humbly says to me without fail .... "Ma'm I haven't eaten in a few says can you help me?" I look past his physical appearance and into his eyes and see his desperation. My heart breaks a thousand times over and I blink the tears back that form in my eyes as I hand him a few dollars. Some days I have none to give and I scramble to find him a snack from my bag. And then without fail I hear the snide remarks made by others and see the shaking of their heads; I witness the lack of compassion. I continue to watch from the window and see him shuffle his feet across the street and walk into the store to perhaps buy him a sandwich or maybe just a small snack in which he can save the change for tomorrows meal. I turn to go back to my desk, the sorrow I feel is great, and the ridiculing words from others continue to bounce into the air.
Where is compassion?
I don't know what saddens me more, this son of God in his enormous despair or the harsh comments from those who refuse to see the man inside that frail body; a body that shoulders the weigh of his circumstances to simply survive. I don't know his story. I have no inkling as to why he is on the streets. There are a thousand and one reasons why this man, this child of God, is living the way he is. My heart whispers to my daddy God; why can I see it and those around do not?
My answer is short and leaves room for more tears to spill..... "My people refuse to love, they refuse to have compassion, they extend no grace and they show no mercy."
My next thought .... "How would I feel if ,in my own struggles, I was never shown compassion; if others only looked to my circumstances and never beyond to the times of despair I have bore in my life? Or worse,if my Daddy God never had compassion for me? "
I go back to the window in hope of seeing him with a meal in hand. My eyes scan the street and there up the road I see his slow moving feet shuffling, bag in hand, for what seems to be an attempt to find a place of cover and safety. Trying to get to the other side of the street, he walks in and out of cars stopped at the red light and before he disappears from my sight I wonder, do they see him? Do those waiting to drive off to their own destinations, do they really see him? With a heavy heart I leave the window and hear these words.....
"For I was hungry and you gave Me food; I was thirsty and you gave me drink; I was a stranger and you took Me in; I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you visited Me; I was in prison and you came to Me. " (Matthew 25:35-36)
Though I may never know his story or the reasons behind his struggles and his eyes of despair, I pray what he saw in me was indeed compassion, grace and mercy filled with the love of Christ. I pray where ever his feet take him ,he will find others who see him and they too will love him.
Where Is Compassion?
Forever
His Daughter,
Stacey
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