It’s zero-dark-thirty as I walk down the sidewalk through the urban residential neighborhood in Oakland where our daughter and son-in-law live.
I’m following “Around Me” directions on my phone to a nearby Starbucks.
Tiny homes crowd side by side, like kindergarteners jostling each other in line for recess, while parked cars squeeze bumper to bumper on the street and a couple cyclists pass me, getting an early start to work.
As I get closer to the coffee shop, a homeless guy with a gray cat perching on his shoulder walks towards me and shouts a question I don’t understand. I try to look sympathetic as I shrug my shoulders and pass him.
Outside the Starbucks is another homeless guy who doesn’t even have a backpack. What strikes me is how filthy dirty even his hands are. He asks me for change and I tell him I literally have nothing with me except my phone (with my Starbucks app to purchase coffee).
As I walk into the brightly lit store I’m remembering conversations from yesterday about homelessness by choice, and addiction and mental illness, and toxic charity and the complications of addressing this problem.
I purchase my coffee, but as I start to walk past the man outside, I pause and it seems that Jesus whispers, “Forget the complications.”
“As you did it to the least of these you did it to me.” (Matthew 25:45) echoes in my head.
I turn back. “I don’t have money to give you, but I can get you something to eat with my app if you want.”
“Could you get me a white mocha and one of those ham and cheese things?”
“Sure!”
I return with his order, again noticing his dirty hands as I give it to him.
“Thank you so much. Could you go back and get me a bunch of Splendas?”
I come out with the Splendas and wish him a good day, but as I walk away I think, “Did I really treat him as I would treat Jesus?”
Did I look him in the eye? Did I ask his name? Did I shake his hand? Did I serve him with the respect I’d offer a king?
Did I convey his value and dignity as a beloved child of God?
What if love looks like much more than meeting physical needs?
What if it’s about saying “I see you. You matter to God and to me. You are valued.”?
I reflect not just on homeless people, but the “invisible” people (like baristas), the “inconvenient” people (like the elderly person walking slowly, blocking our way). What if we look them in the eye and honor them today as we would honor Jesus?