Seen and Not Heard

Whirlwind trip to Iowa to see the grands before they resumed their journey home to Virginia; back early to receive a spare bed from my summer roommate and keep it from inconveniencing her dad since it took up space in the back of his pickup; back early also to make it to a church service planning meeting.

Coming into town fifteen minutes ahead of schedule for meeting my friend's dad, I pulled onto the off ramp and realized I had enough time to make it to DQ for a thin mint Blizzard (limited time only). And then, there he was by the stop sign--a scruffy-looking guy in a T-shirt and jeans, scraggly hair and cap, glasses, and holding a cardboard sign.

I don't remember what the first part of the sign said, but it ended with "IN JESUS' NAME." The cynic in me responded with, "Wow--way to play the God card." But he didn't look like he was shooting for a guilt trip. And he didn't look lazy or scary...just sad.

Five bucks...five bucks...just give him five bucks...

But the cars ahead of me were moving, and there was traffic behind me as well. Not enough time to find my wallet and sort out a five. Besides--I'm a single female. I passed him and prayed.

Blizzard was bought and enjoyed, bed was delivered and stored, and off I went to my meeting at church.

The team evaluated the last two weeks' worth of sermons and service elements, then went on to the upcoming Sunday. Highness will be preaching from James, which includes, in chapter two, verses on having not just faith but deeds as well. We discussed songs that would fit (my suggestion was Petra's "Seen and Not Heard") and anything else that would contribute to the message. Conversation swirled about, a bit of which included taking meals to shut-ins.

And _he_ came to mind. His scruffy hair and cardboard sign. And the Petra in my head was louder than the team discussing around me.

They've heard the story, they've heard the lines
But talk is too cheap to change their minds
They want to see some vital signs

You could take him some money, take him some supper.

Convictions - in the way we live
Convictions - not a narrative
Actions speak a little louder than words

Fine. It's stupid for a single female to approach a panhandler alone. I'll wait until the meeting is done and see if one of the others will go with me.

Seen and not heard, seen and not heard
Sometimes God's children should be seen and not heard

But I couldn't brainstorm and I couldn't contribute and I was almost sick as I realized that I was foregoing an opportunity of the very sort we were talking about.

There's too much talk and not enough walk
Sometimes God's children should be seen and not heard

I didn't know how to excuse myself gracefully, but something came up that I had a comment on. That led to my blurting that I had to go put into action what we were just talking about--and that I really had to _go_. One of the team asked for clarification, and I explained about the man at the off ramp. I left with the caveat, "You'll know where to start looking if I die!" And Highness, who gave his mother's eulogy yesterday, called out, "Say hi to Mom for me!" (It was truly one of the best lines in our worship team's history.)

The spedometer read higher than it should have as I made the drive across town. I started rehearsing what I'd say to whatever officer pulled me over. "Will you come with me to feed this homeless guy on the other side of town?" What I really wanted was for someone with a uniform to take over the duty. No such luck, and I reached a street with a speed limit that was more in line with the speed of my car.

I rehearsed what I'd say to the man: "I don't feel comfortable giving you a ride or giving you money, but can I go buy you some supper?" Ever-conscious of safety, I dug around for my pepper spray, made sure my doors were locked, and evaluated how far open I could leave my window without giving someone access to reach in and grab me. And then, _then_ I prayed. "God, You know what the deal is. You know how to protect me. Please do." And I knew, whatever happened, it would be okay.

My eyes were busy scanning as I approached the overpass. There--was that him? No, a sign. There? Nothing. I slowed, looked down the off ramp, ahead on the highway, and turned around. I looked down the on ramp, and down both sides of the interstate.

Nothing.

Gone.

Quarter after six. Was he being fed? Did he have a home for the night? I wouldn't have offered him _that_, but maybe a supper delivery and snacks for the next day would have brightened his mood and made the night not so hopeless.

Gone--the man, along with the opportunity.

I'm sad that I don't get to experience the joys of reaching out. I'm chastised that I didn't follow through with the opportunity when it was first presented. But I am convicted that when God calls us out, He _does_ equip.

Be strong--and courageous!
--Joshua 1:9