So last weekend I was sitting on my couch, minding my own business and reading a good book (one of the Ted Dekker Circle Trilogy books to be precise). Dear Hubby was upstairs playing computer games. It was a nice, lazy Sunday in January.
Suddenly, Dear Hubby comes charging down the stairs and nwants to know about the dude outside. I look and I notice the dude seems to be a little shifty looking. At first I think he is one of the crowd of people who regularly goes in and out of the rental across the street from us. Maybe he is just waiting for someone to come out of the house or maybe pick him up from the house. But then I notice the nondescript early 90's red car sitting there with a person in it.
Now this is not a normal car to be sitting idle outside these houses, and I am pretty familiar with every "high class" vehicle that normally sits outside our house at any given day or time, and this red thing isn't one of them. Plus, it's DANG cold, like zero degrees or less. And this dude is just standing there. I'm telling you, he looks shifty.
So Dear Hubby and I watch a little, and he continues to stand there, outside the vehicle. Slowly, a large black expensive SUV pulls up on our side of the street, and Shifty Dude walks across the street to the SUV. The SUV window rolls down, some sort of exchange is made, the SUV window goes back up, the SUV pulls away from the curb and proceeds up the street, and Shifty Dude, looking shiftier than ever, goes back across the street and gets into the car.
At this point, Dear Hubby tells me he had seen the black SUV go down our street and come back up a couple of times from upstairs, and that was what had prompted him to come down. Now, we take the ultimate step, Dear Hubby calls 911 (you know you live in a questionable neighborhood when you are encouraged to call 911 for any little suspicious thing you see. They use it as a tracking system to try and funnel more police prescence into our area). We report the goings on and are told a squad is being dispatched. Now we sit back and anxiously wait.
See, I have this highly developed sense of justice, and I want Shifty Dude and his Red Car Driving Accomplice to get caught. How DARE they do drug deals in front of MY house!! We watch and wait, breathing "hurry up" prayers for the squad car every few seconds. Shifty Dude and his R.C.D.A are bent over something in the car. What are they doing?
Suddenly, Shifty Dude steps back out of the car, rubbing his nose like he's got a schnoz full of toot, and starts to meander down the sidewalk. The R.C.D.A pulls slowly out from the curb and drives down the block. They round the corner and disappear!! Dear Hubby and I are very much dismayed. We wanted to see these guys busted! But, sorely disappointed, Dear Hubby calls back 911 and advises them that Shifty Dude has moved on.
Fast forward to that evening. Ten o'clock or so. It is still about zero degrees, windy, and it is now snowing. The doorbell rings. We look at each other. Who rings a doorbell in our neighborhood at ten o'clock on a Sunday night? We aren't expecting anyone. This can't be good.
Dear Hubby goes to the door. I turn down the TV, but don't manage to catch much of the exchange. Thoughts flit through my head . . . someone looking for drug money? What if he gets shot? Dear Hubby closes the door and sits down. Who was it? Some guy who had walked several blocks looking for baby formula for his baby. They just moved here from Seattle. He had his Seattle drivers license and a utility bill listing his address on Emerson, verifying himself.
And I am smitten with remorse. What would Jesus have done? Here we were, all set to be judge and jury for Shifty Dude, waiting to cheer his capture, his just desserts. And this poor man, just looking to catch a break after walking so far-- I had him pegged to be a dangerous person too. And I find myself wondering, what good are we doing in this neighborhood?
I mean, I want to be here to make a difference. I want to be a light for Jesus, to shine in the darkness that is North Minneapolis. But when Jesus shows up at my door, I turn him away. True, we don't have cash, and we don't have baby formula. I thought maybe we could have taken him to the store in our car (and then the thought creeps in, "what if he would overpower you and steal your car?" After all, as Dear Hubby points out, baby formula is used to cut cocaine). But it WAS after ten o'clock and the closest grocery stores would have been closed. Dear Hubby is still skeptical. Maybe he was just out looking for drug money. But my gut says otherwise. Why would he have had all that documentation to prove himself? He must have known people would think that. I asked Dear Hubby if he saw the guy's address. Maybe we could take a bag of groceries over the next day. But no, he didn't see it. So, there again, we fail. I find myself hoping that someone else did help the guy out. But when Jesus shows up at your door, YOU are called to help Him, not pray for Him to send help. I was the help. And I failed.
So I ask for forgiveness and I move forward, hoping and praying that next time, I can actually BE Jesus to someone in need. Not be so worried about my possessions or my person. Doesn't everything belong to Jesus anyway? Help my fellow man. Actually make a difference in this neighborhood.
After all, if I don't, who will?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
I have a similar dilemma when I see someone panhandling at our highway exit. Of course there's the danger factor. The thing that I really swirl around on is that I don't want to encourage people to beg by the highway (or door to door for that matter). If no one gives them money and they're driven to a shelter or food shelf that can direct them to permanent help, isn't that better? My logic says yes, but my easily guilty heart wonders. But is giving out of guilt really showing love? Around and around it goes.
I'm trying to learn to be better at hearing the Holy Spirit each time I have to choose. He's the only one who really knows if I can offer any real help or not. That's a big work in progress, but I think it's the way I'll have to go.
I'm almost 100% certain it was a scam. I've had the same thing happen before and if you begin to ask them a bunch of detailed questions about when and why they "moved" or where they broke down or whatever it is their story quickly falls apart. They may try to make you feel guilty at that point or turn themselves into victims, but it's just part of the game. If you had offered to take him to the store it's likely he would have turned you down. Don't take it too hard and continue to look for other ways to help the hurting.
Thanks, PJ. That does actually help a little. Still, it's hard to know . . . maybe he was legit. I try to give people the benefit of the doubt, but how far do you go when taking potential risks with your personal safety? What would Jesus do? Aarrgh!! Thanks for the comment :)
I am still skeptical. I think that you try to think up a story that's really going to tug at people's heart strings. Honestly, how would you expect anyone to react if they hear that a baby is going hungry. Seems like a good tactic to me. Anyway, it seems to me that showing his ID and bill don't verify his motives. Instead it shows that he lived somewhere and now he lives here. I don't think it verifies anything to me.
I do struggle with the guilt of the thought that it might be legit. I am a very skeptical person and I rarely feel sympathetic for panhandlers. Perhaps that's a protective sub-concious, but it may be one of my downfalls that I need to work to correct. Perhaps one day, I will be able to trust more in the holy spirit and do God's will without concern for my own well being.
Post a Comment