
Back in the last century when I was a freshman in high school, I was on a class trip out of state. We had just finished our meal at a fast food restaurant. Dropping our trash in the receptacles, I was approached by a homeless man. He said he was hungry, and asked for food.
I wish I could say that compassion flooded my soul, and I allowed Jesus to minister to this man through me. Sadly, the opposite is true. It was the first time I had ever been confronted by the raw needs of humanity. I didn’t know how to respond. I was shocked to be approached so directly. I was shocked that someone expected me to do something about their situation.
Surrounded by my peer group, I was concerned with what they might think. What would they do if he had approached them? And what if he was faking his plight? Maybe this was his way to get out of actually working…Why did I care so much what everyone thought? More importantly, how did I become so jaded at fifteen?
While I was trying to decide the acceptable protocol, another young lady in our group didn’t hesitate. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a few bills and change she had left from her purchase, and placed it in his outstretched hand.
“Enjoy your meal, Sir,” she said with confidence and compassion in her voice.
Immediately, I felt a spectrum of emotions. Embarrassment and humiliation were at the forefront. While I was trying to decide what to do, my own peer stepped in and did what needed to be done. It was a hard lesson learned that day. The most important being the need for compassion. I’ve carried the memory of that one hungry man for over four decades. It has helped me navigate through many interactions with the hurts of humanity.
Fast forward forty plus years…
I was sitting in a restaurant miles away from home with my peer group of ministry friends. We were talking, laughing and generally enjoying a sense of belonging. As we walked to our table, I had noticed out of my peripheral vision, a man sitting alone. No one ever came to sit with him.
When our food arrived, we clued in to why the sandwiches we ordered were called “freighters.” Each one was cut in half, and both halves took up almost the whole plate, leaving only a small spot for fries. We laughed and ate together, distracted from the man sitting alone by our food and fellowship.
After several minutes of good food and playful banter, I noticed the man walk to the counter to pay. He was carrying a backpack. Not paying a lot of attention, I thought I heard the cashier say, “You’re okay.” After which, he left the restaurant. A few seconds later, I shared glances with the friend sitting closest to me who also had a clear view of the counter area. She said, “I wonder if he had anything to eat.” She had heard the man tell the cashier he didn’t have the money to pay for the coffee.
I think both of us felt like we had missed a moment to help someone in need, and now the man was gone. I focused my attention back to the “freighter” on my plate. It just got bigger on my plate, and dryer in my mouth the more I chewed. My mind refused to unfocus from the man carrying the backpack. What if he was hungry? I remembered the hungry man in the fast food restaurant over forty years earlier. That feeling of embarrassment and humiliation was back, but another emotion was stronger. Compassion. What if he was still outside the restaurant, and hungry?
I couldn’t chew another bite until I found out. I got up from the table and headed to the front door. Stepping outside into the sunlight, I saw him. He was sitting on a bench just outside with his backpack beside him.
“Are you hungry?” I asked. He replied with a simple, “Yes.”
I told him to stay right there, and I would be back. Stepping back inside the restaurant, I asked for a to go box. I put the untouched half of my freighter in which took up half the box. Even more food was added when everyone realized my mission.
When I took it out to him, it felt really good to be able to look him in the eyes and say, “Enjoy your meal.” My half of the freighter also tasted good again, and I no longer had to swallow it past the lump in my throat.
SECOND CHANCES
We’ve heard over and over how God is a God of 2nd chances, and He certainly is. Usually, we are referring to the continual opportunities he grants us to be Born Again, or to come back to Him in repentance. Yes, ABSOLUTELY!
He’s also the God of 2nd chances when He’s teaching us to follow the leading of the Holy Ghost, and when He is teaching us how to hear His voice, and be sensitive to the moving of His Spirit.
He is constantly schooling us in the art of handling humanity. His people. Not only those who are sanctified and in His service, but also those who are banged up, running, going through a hard season they’ve brought on themselves by terrible choices, and even the brash & crusty ones.
Thankfully, He keeps giving us chance after chance to get it right. He’s the God of 2nd chances.
What has He given you 2nd chances to learn and apply in your walk with Him?
Warm Regards,
~Pat Vick~.
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