MARCH 2017 - A little over 11 months ago, I made a decision to take a walk at least once each work day. The purpose was two-fold: First, it would help me reach a goal of walking 10,000 steps a day. Second, it would help me to shift my focus from work and the slow buildup of negative head-space to prayer and positive thinking.
It worked.
That first walk came when I noticed a spring tree begin to sprout its leaves. God spoke in that moment, reminding me that I am loved. Who else but a loving God would design trees that lose their leaves in the fall and winter when we need the warmth of the sun the most, then grow leaves in spring and summer when we need the cooling shade? That is God taking care of me, and most days, I don’t even notice.
I decided to take pictures on my walk each day to document these things that I take for granted: spring flowers, architecture and unexpected finds that reminded me of all the things I have to be thankful for and those good and perfect gifts from above, "coming down from the Father of lights.”
Lately, though, I felt a change coming. It hit me that on these walks I had passed many, many people and missed them completely. I had seen doors and blooms and fence posts. I had even prayed for my city and people close to me, but I had missed the hurting men, happy women, cute kids and emotional teenagers I had passed.
So, this week, I asked God to open my eyes to the people around me. He did not disappoint. I passed one man, whose wild-eyed look told me he was not the person to connect with. I knew immediately the second man was the one. We waved as we passed on opposite sides of the street, and I crossed to meet him. His name was Horace. He had dark, expressive eyes, a toothpick in the corner of his mouth and he wore a baseball cap turned around backwards.I told him I wanted to take his picture and pray for him. Horace was quiet, but appreciative. He told me he really didn’t have a particular need, that life was good. So, I prayed for God to continue to bless him, then took his picture to add to my Instagram feed: @kudzudad.
As I left him, it occurred to me that this meeting was the exact opposite of what the media is portraying right now. Horace’s skin is a rich chocolate brown. Mine is somewhere between pale beige and peach. I wore dress slacks and a tie. Horace had on jeans and a camouflage bomber jacket. There was no animosity, anger, bravado or petitioning. We were just two men on a quiet street, thankful for each other’s company. Something tells me there is far more of this kind of race relations than the kind the media exploits to get high ratings.
Next, I met Thomas. Rather, Thomas met me. He called out to me with a question about the weather, then surprised me with his next request. Calling me “Sir,” Thomas asked me to “tell him” the 23rd Psalm. That seemed as close to a God-directed encounter as I could imagine. So, I recited for him: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I won’t be afraid, because You are with me. Your rod and your staff they comfort me…”
I asked Thomas for permission to take his photo and to pray for him. After I finished, he asked me to pray for his sister who was in jail in Cedartown. I prayed for her too.
Thomas is homeless. He has a reputation for being conniving and a criminal record to match it. Quite a few homeless men and women walk through our parking lot and along the street behind my office, some of them with criminal intent, and I do take precautions. But I also know I also pass some well-dressed, nice smelling connivers who may not threaten me physically, but would stab a man in the back with their words. One is no better than the other. What I know is that all along this journey there are people who need Jesus and, in the moment, may just appreciate being acknowledged. How many Thomases and Horaces have I missed by focusing on objects instead of people? So, during this season, I’m looking at the people God places in my path. I’ll take time to pray for them. I’ll ask to take their picture. I’ll ask their name. I don’t expect they’ll all be homeless or in need, but I do expect that I’ll see them through the filter of a compassionate Savior who aches to extend His grace.
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