God Came Near

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know...

Christmas in the northwest is soggy and green, not like the white Christmases I enjoyed as a child and not like the white harmattan dust of Togo. If there's any whiteness here, it's in the clouds. Last week, though, it was clear and cold. Really cold.

Bethany and I bundled up in whatever winter clothes we could scrounge together and went downtown. We met about twenty people who live in the cold and damp, the wind and rain all year.

The homeless. We used to call them bums. Riff-raff. Drunks. We lumped them together, so we didn't have to think of them as individuals. Someone should do something about the homeless problem. The thing is, the homeless are people. And "someone" might be me.

The guy who sleeps in the doorway of the lamp store, sleeping bag over his head to keep out the light. The lady who sits on the ledge of the shelter window. The man with long white beard, the santa hat, shopping cart and tremors. The man who holds the sign that says, "Colon cancer. Can't pay medical bills. Too nervous to steal."

I don't know their names. Not yet. But this week, I looked them in the eye. I saw despair in some, greed in others, and hope in still others. Sounds like the rest of us, doesn't it?

"Would you like some cookies?" Bethany is so innocent. She doesn't know to be nervous. She just knows that she sees someone in need and she wants to help out. "Why did that man pretend to be asleep?" she asked. "Maybe he was ashamed," I said. "Why should he be ashamed?" She wondered.

They all wanted cookies. We didn't bake enough for everyone. "Take a card, too," she said. The cards she handed out read, "God Came Near."

God did come near. He came to earth as a helpless baby. He submitted himself to short-sighted parents, an opressive government, poverty. I had every reason to be ashamed, but he approached me and he changed my life.

I know it's nothing to give cookies to homeless people. But to look them in the eye and imagine their lives, I feel like I've gained a little more appreciation of what Jesus did for me.

Merry Christmas.