pieces of grace

Tonight, I finally met Mike. You know who he is. He sits in front of Asian Ghetto all day with his boom box, playing Michael Jackson and other dance music that I kind of bounce along to on my way to class, asking people for change. If you say no or sorry, he says God bless you anyway. Mike’s been there every day for at least the past four years, probably way longer. I’ve heard about him from people in my fellowship who have shared meals with him and read blog posts past Intervarsity alumni have written about their good conversations with him. I’ve always wanted to sit down and talk to Mike. But for the past two years, I’ve managed to say “no, sorry” or ignored him every time I’ve walked past as he asks for change with a big smile on his face. I think I gave him some change once, but as soon as I finished putting the money in his hand and giving him a smile, I hurriedly walked away, satisfied that I had “helped” a homeless person and rushed on to the next important thing I had to do.

Tonight, though, I finally worked up enough grace and love to buy him some coffee and talk to him a bit. I almost didn’t. The first time he came into Sweetheart’s I merely stood there, wondering if I should offer and feeling God nudging me. When he left, I sighed a bit, wishing that I actually had. But five minutes later, he came back. And God’s nudging from before turned into pushing. What followed was a very short conversation, but one filled with much revelation. A couple of things struck me about Mike. First was that he knew both my friend and I were Christian, not because of our actions, but simply because he has seen us around so often and at Intervarsity homeless outreach events. As we introduced ourselves, he said, “Yeah, you’ve seen me. With my boom box and everything.” That hit me hard because it’s so true. I have seen him with his boom box, but I’ve forgotten about him, not even thinking that perhaps by now, after two years, he recognizes me too and knows more about me than I know about him. Mike not only recognized us, but he had eyes for me when I had no eyes for him. Second was how curious and questioning he was about our faith. He asked us about church, about Jesus, about the Resurrection, and about sin, all in the span of about five minutes. I saw a heart that was so open and wanting to change, but not sure how. Third was just how happy he is, despite his circumstances. Though he is homeless, he wished us good luck on our finals multiple times.

I think Mike knows a lot more than I do. And he is more Christ-like than I am most of the time. He sees people, really sees people, and strikes up conversations with them. He questions, but trusts. And he rejoices in spite of his situation. As summer comes up, I hope to spend more time talking to him, instead of shying away and retreating to my own secure communities and social bubbles. He says he’ll be at Convergence this Sunday. I really wish I could be there, because I have a lot to learn from him. We all do.