Nothing keeps me in constant remembrance of how much the LORD loves me, than to serve those who are now where I used to be.
It was a blessed day, I have everything I need and a clean slate that I pursue diligently to keep blamelessly clean, a conscience no longer seared but free. But lately, the fear of judgement of others creeps in. Until HE shows up again.
The weather is bitter and cold this week and winter enters Los Angeles, and the homeless are not frequent at night as they often are in my streets. But tonight, I came across a pan handler and another man asleep on the concrete, against the brick wall in front of CVS. I was glad they were close enough to home for me to run back with a couple blankets, snacks and toiletries.
What gets me is how they always wait for me, and when I show up, the seem relieved. I'm sure a lifetime of disappointment leaves them fully doubting, and I give them credit for being brave enough to hope for when it was me- I never bothered allowing anyone the chance to disappoint me. I remember how to hope was once so scary, and trust just wasn't an option for me.
Of course, when I picked up the blankets at home, I asked the LORD to guide me, and show me what I was supposed to say to help them see, always a prayer before these kinds of moments because I never feel like I do enough for anyone who has less than I do. But what came in that moment was just so natural and simple, it was the message of testimony.
His name is John and he and his friend are sleeping in the alley behind one of the local churches. I assured him that there is a GOD who is watching over him and no matter what just try to believe. But it was when I put my hand on his arm and told him I was once where he is... before I met JESUS and I KNOW what it's like to be on the street. That is when I saw the tears well up in his eyes and the glimmer of hope still within him... as he nodded and said, "I'm on my way up." I assured him that I do believe that and we will pray for it to be.