We don’t have real names anymore….
This whole week that sentence has been screaming at me. Because it is a sentence. As much as a prison term, the loss of your identity is a sentence imposed by our society. Despite the choices that these people made that ultimately led to their homelessness, they are still people. The programs that we Christians set up for ourselves are great. We need times of fellowship and Bible study, but there’s a guy out there who calls himself “Dumpster”. Where are the Christians to tell him that Jesus doesn’t think he’s a dumpster. Jesus doesn’t think he’s garbage. We spend a lot of time defending the unborn, well, at one time Dumpster was unborn. He’s a miracle of life, where are his advocates now? And it's not just the homeless, but all the strangers around us. What can we do? Look at them! Let's not pretend that there’s a very pretty bird on the other side of the street that has gripped our attention. Talk to them! Just say good morning, or whatever.
This is a challenge to me. Going on Saturday’s with potatoes is one thing, but there is so much else that I could easily do, that I neglect because I’m rushed or just embarrassed. I could be kinder to that harried cashier, and explain that she is special and loved. And that widower eating alone, why didn’t I invite him to share our table? What have I done? I’ve reduced them to the nameless. To me, they don’t have names at all, because I didn’t make an effort to learn them.