"Please Help."
I saw his body, hunched over his small bag of possessions, shortly before I saw his face, and shortly before I registered his plight. Homeless. And disabled. His fingers twisted in the familiar distortion of arthritis. He held a sign that read simply “Please Help”. Succinct. And, painfully desperate. His eyes met mine and I, for a moment, understood his desperation.
I turned away, wishing that I hadn’t read his sign-- wishing that I hadn't seen his face. I busied myself in the car--adjusting the radio dial, and shuffling papers. I pretended that I hadn't seen him.
But, I had seen him. And, I saw him still after I drove away. I see him now, days later. And, if I'm honest, I wish I could erase his image from my mind.
I wonder why the image of that man has stuck with me so vividly. The truth is, I am not entirely dissimilar to that man. I hold my own sign. Intangible and unseen. But the message is the same: "Please Help". A warm bed and a hot meal may not be my particular need. But, I too, on my own, am disabled and homeless. Desperately seeking mercy. Compassion. Hope.
I am ashamed by the ease at which I turned away from his suffering-- the ease at which I, daily, ignore those around me that are desperately seeking. They are no different than I. But, in my avoidance of their pain, I shamefully withhold the mercy, compassion and hope that I so much desire.
By turning away from the pain of a stranger, am I not, ultimately, turning away from my Father?
I turned away, wishing that I hadn’t read his sign-- wishing that I hadn't seen his face. I busied myself in the car--adjusting the radio dial, and shuffling papers. I pretended that I hadn't seen him.
But, I had seen him. And, I saw him still after I drove away. I see him now, days later. And, if I'm honest, I wish I could erase his image from my mind.
I wonder why the image of that man has stuck with me so vividly. The truth is, I am not entirely dissimilar to that man. I hold my own sign. Intangible and unseen. But the message is the same: "Please Help". A warm bed and a hot meal may not be my particular need. But, I too, on my own, am disabled and homeless. Desperately seeking mercy. Compassion. Hope.
I am ashamed by the ease at which I turned away from his suffering-- the ease at which I, daily, ignore those around me that are desperately seeking. They are no different than I. But, in my avoidance of their pain, I shamefully withhold the mercy, compassion and hope that I so much desire.
By turning away from the pain of a stranger, am I not, ultimately, turning away from my Father?
posted by Unknown at 6:07 PM
3 Comments:
I just wanted to let you know that was a real touching post. those images are real tought to get out of our head - maybe because we actually care and feel sorrow for them.
Emily,
It is sooo good to have you back writing. Thanks for the post--it was powerful.
Wow Emily - welcome back! YEA!!! My thoughts drift to last night and the same situation...I have a very perfect image in my head. I also have an image of a woman at my table in Bible study who is filled with sadness, lonliness...her sign says "Help Me", but she left off the instructions on how to help her. I was just so reminded of this verse when I was reading your blog: "..."for I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me." They also will answer, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?' "He will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.'"
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