Washington and Wells

There he sits on the north side of the Canal street bridge, slouched over on an old blue milk crate, the hoodie from his worn down coat draped over his face. Anything to protect him from the harsh Chicago winds. He rocks back and forth to keep himself warm, his shaky hands hold out a paper cup with a few nickels and dimes in it. The clammering of coins can be heard from down the street. His hands are tired from the same old back and forth, back and forth motion of the paper cup. This cup is the reality of his homelessness; the reality that he has resorted to begging on the streets in order to get by. He is hopeful people who walk bristly past him will give him something. But by sundown his hands hang limp, and his cup is only half-full. His face grows downcast but he still hopes at least one person will notice him. But then, no-one.

My weekly interactions with "J" have caused me to ponder this problem of homelessness. People who are homeless come in all shapes and sizes, they come from various places, and for many reasons they have lost their jobs, their family, and their homes. How do I reach him, what can I do to make a difference? Should I give him money? Should I buy him food? How do I handle this issue? Many people would say that I should stay out of it and that it's not my problem. But it is everyone's problem. We are all responsible to help those who can't help themselves. Maybe "J" made some poor decisions; maybe he cheated, lied, stole something, got into debt, or became an alcoholic or drug addict. Whatever he did to get where he is today, one thing is clear. He needs help. Just one person can change his life. That person is Jesus Christ. Christ can give life and hope to my brother. He needs to see that someone out there loves him, and that he can make a change; have a different life. How will he know unless someone stops by the bridge near Washington and Wells?

We have a message to give the world, and the message which has radically changed my life can change his life. God uses us as his vessels to bring truth and hope for the hopeless, to reconcile people to God. To reconcile "J" to God.

Next time you pass by someone holding a paper cup it could be another "J." You could point them to the one who will change their life. Washington and Wells will never look the same.

As dawn is fast approaching "J" slowly rises from his plastic seat and moves to the south side of the Canal street bridge. He remains there for the night. As the lights grow dim and the passersby dwindle, he hopes to rest for a while. While he drifts off to sleep he prays to God that tomorrow will be different; that he will be the one passing by with a briefcase in one hand and a cup of coffee in another. Maybe tomorrow he tells himself, maybe tomorrow.