The currency of love is time and compassion, and Jesus doesn’t wait on us to change before He approaches.
It seemed like they were coming from every angle, one after another. After sobbing tears, a few screams, and many highly uncomfortable moments for the girls, I wanted to throw down. Raging deep inside of me, I calmed myself enough to talk with those who harassed and begged knowingly. It was almost as if it were their job–to pester the white folks!
My Creole isn’t the best, but I figured that maybe if I talked to them long enough, they would give up and leave. That was not the case, not at all. Time after time, their requests got stronger. Uncomfortable and not knowing how to approach the situation, I simply said in my best Haitian Creole, “I’m sorry, I can’t give you anything.”
A faint voice from inside the house said, “Give them Jesus!”
I had been exposed! My heart was now out for the world to see! At least I recognized it’s condition. Under the leadership of my escapist mentality, I urged the group to clear the room, only to ignore them, hoping they would leave, which they eventually did.
The next thing I knew, all of our prior encounters began to flood my heart. Broken, hurt, unworthy, and cheated, I realized these people felt as they were treated–invisible and hopeless causes, never to see the light of day.
Some point later, I began to cry. Why were these broken men who smelled like a Bob Marley concert sitting in passage to and from a church being passed up day in and day out with no one even recognizing their presence or taking the time to have compassion on them? Even worse, why did my heart rage against the simple thought of them being near?
Jesus, we have a problem! I don’t see you in their eyes, I don’t see you at all.
The next day, as we walked to deliver a French Bible to a man who asked, I saw a group of four young men–those we had seen before. They asked for money, so I gave them Jesus.
The Jesus in me stopped to ask questions, to spend time with them, and show them that they don’t simply exist, they are loved and hold purpose. They voluntarily began to speak of their addictions and why they had them. I saw myself, so I shared my addictions and how I am being delivered. We were told, “I would love to follow Jesus, but I have tattoos, drink, and don’t have enough money or the right clothes to go to church.” (We heard these same things on three different occasions.) The pastor’s son even explained, “Jesus didn’t work for me. I attended a Bible study for years growing up, but I still turned out addicted to alcohol and paranoid.”
My heart broke. They were simply reacting out of pain and wounds that they didn’t know how to handle.
You will never be good enough. You will never have it together enough. But you are loved so much so that Jesus would die so those things didn’t matter any longer. You may never be enough, but you will always be worth it. Religion says you can’t be loved if you drink. Religion says you can’t be loved if you are poor. Religion says you can’t be loved if you have tattoos or don’t have the right clothes. (Read the Beatitudes – Matthew 5:1-11) And Jesus Himself showed us that doing the “right things” doesn’t mean we know Him intimately (Matthew 7:21-23), which is His desire. Religion breeds bondage, but intimacy with Jesus breeds freedom, and I experienced that freedom in learning to love these “unworthy” ones last week.
If we look close enough, we will see ourselves. And if we look even closer, we will see Jesus.
What do you see, and what will you give them (Matthew 25:45)?
