To often
we underestimate
the power of a touch,
a smile,
a kind word,
a listening ear,
an honest compliment,
or the smallest act of caring,
all of which have the potential
to turn a life around.
~Leo Buscaglia~
It was an unusually cold day for the month
of May.
Spring had arrived and everything was alive
with color.
But a cold front from the North
had brought winter's chill back to Indiana.
I sat with two friends in the picture window
of a quaint restaurant
just off the corner of the town square.
The food and the company were both especially
good that day.
As we talked, my attention was drawn outside,
across the street.
There, walking into town, was a man
who appeared to be carrying all his worldly
goods on his back.
He was carrying, a well worn sign that read,
"I will work for food."
My heart sank.
I brought him to the attention of my friends
and noticed that others around us had stopped
eating to focus on him.
Heads moved in a mixture of sadness and
disbelief.
We continued with our meal, but his image
lingered in my mind.
We finished our meal and went our separate
ways.
I had errands to do and quickly set out to
accomplish them.
I glanced toward the town square,
looking somewhat halfheartedly for the strange
visitor.
I was fearful, knowing that seeing him again
would call some response.
I drove through town and saw nothing of
him.
I made some purchases at a store and got
back in my car.
Deep within me, the Spirit of God kept speaking
to me:
"Don't go back to the office
until you've at least driven once more around
the square.
"And so, with some hesitancy, I headed back
into town.
As I turned the square's third corner.
I saw him.
He was standing on the steps of the storefront
church,
going through his sack.
I stopped and looked,
feeling both compelled to speak to him,
yet wanting to drive on.
The empty parking space on the corner seemed
to be a sign from God:
an invitation to park.
I pulled in, got out and approached the
town's newest visitor.
"Looking for the pastor?" I asked.
"Not really," he replied, "just resting."
"Have you eaten today?"
"Oh, I ate something early this morning."
"Would you like to have lunch with me?"
"Do you have some work I could do for you?"
"No work," I replied.
"I commute here to work from the city,
but I would like to take you to lunch."
"Sure," he replied with a smile.
As he began to gather his things.
I asked some surface questions.
"Where you headed?" "St. Louis."
"Where you from?"
"Oh, all over; mostly Florida."
"How long you been walking?"
"Fourteen years," came the reply.
I knew I had met someone unusual.
We sat across from each other in the same
restaurant I had left earlier.
His face was weathered slightly beyond his
38 years.
His eyes were dark yet clear,
and he spoke with an eloquence and articulation
that was startling.
He removed his jacket to reveal a bright
red T-shirt that said,
"Jesus is The Never Ending Story."
Then Daniel's story began to unfold.
He had seen rough times early in life.
He'd made some wrong choices and reaped
the consequences.
Fourteen years earlier, while backpacking
across the country,
he had stopped on the beach in Daytona.
He tried to hire on with some men
who were putting up a large tent and some
equipment.
A concert, he thought.
He was hired,
but the tent would not house a concert but
revival services,
and in those services he saw life more clearly.
He gave his life over to God.
"Nothing's been the same since," he said,
"I felt the Lord telling me to keep walking,
and so I did,
some 14 years now."
"Ever think of stopping?" I asked.
"Oh, once in a while, when it seems to get
the best of me.
But God has given me this calling.
I give out Bibles. That's what's in my sack.
I work to buy food and Bibles,
and I give them out when His Spirit leads."
I sat amazed.
My homeless friend was not homeless.
He was on a mission and lived this way by
choice.
The question burned inside for a moment
and then I asked:
"What's it like?"
"What?"
"To walk into a town carrying all your things
on your back
and to show your sign?"
"Oh, it was humiliating at first.
People would stare and make comments.
Once someone tossed a piece of half eaten
bread
and made a gesture that certainly didn't
make me feel welcome.
But then it became humbling to realize that
God was using me
to touch lives and change concepts of other
folks like me."
My concept was changing, too.
We finished our dessert and gathered his
things.
Just outside the door, he paused.
He turned to me and said,
"Come ye blessed of my Father
and inherit the kingdom I've
prepared for you.
For when I was hungry you
gave me food,
when I was thirsty you gave
me drink,
a stranger and you took me
in."
I felt as if we were on holy ground.
"Could you use another Bible?" I asked.
He said he preferred a certain translation.
It traveled well and was not too heavy.
It was also his personal favorite.
"I've read through it 14 times," he said.
"I'm not sure we've got one of those,
but let's stop by our church and see.
"I was able to find my new friend a Bible
that would do well,
and he seemed very grateful.
"Where you headed from here?"
"Well, I found this little map on the back
of this amusement park coupon."
"Are you hoping to hire on there for awhile?"
"No, I just figure I should go there.
I figure someone under that star right there
needs a Bible,
so that's where I'm going next."
He smiled, and the warmth of his spirit
radiated the sincerity of his mission.
I drove him back to the town square where
we'd met two hours earlier,
and as we drove, it started raining.
We parked and unloaded his things.
"Would you sign my autograph book?" he asked.
"I like to keep messages from folks I meet."
I wrote in his little book that his commitment
to his calling had touched my life.
I encouraged him to stay strong.
And I left him with a verse of scripture
from Jeremiah,
"I know the plans I have for you," declared
the Lord,
"plans to prosper you and not to harm you.
Plans to give you a future and a hope."
"Thanks, man," he said.
"I know we just met and we're really just
strangers, but I love you."
"I know," I said, "I love you, too."
"The Lord is good." "Yes, He is.
How long has it been since someone hugged
you?" I asked.
"A long time," he replied.
And so on the busy street corner in the
drizzling rain,
my new friend and I embraced,
and I felt deep inside that I had been changed.
He put his things on his back,
smiled his winning smile and said,
"See you in the New Jerusalem."
"I'll be there!"
was my reply.
He began his journey again.
He headed away with his sign dangling
from his bed roll and pack of Bibles.
He stopped, turned and said,
"When you see something that makes you think
of me,
will you pray for me?"
"You bet," I shouted back, "God bless."
"God bless."
And that was the last I saw of him.
Late that evening as I left my office, the
wind blew strong.
The cold front had settled hard upon the
town.
I bundled up and hurried to my car.
As I sat back and reached for the emergency
brake,
I saw them... a pair of well worn brown
work gloves
neatly laid over the length of the handle.
I picked them up and thought of my friend
and wondered if his hands would stay warm
that night without them.
I remembered words:
"If you see something that makes you think
of me,
will you pray for me?"
Today his gloves lie on my desk in my office.
They help me to see the world and its people
in a new way,
and they help me remember those two hours
with my unique friend
and to pray for his ministry.
"See you in the New Jerusalem," he said.
Yes, Daniel, I know I will ...
If this story touched you, forward it
to a friend!
"I shall pass,
this way but once.
Therefore, any good that
I can do
or any kindness that I can
show,
let me do it now,
for I shall not pass this
way again."
