Ugly and Hungry

It's Thanksgiving. I just returned last night from three days in San Diego. I had an incredible time, which I chronicled with status updates and mobile uploads. There is one picture, however, that you will not see, for it is only etched in my mind. Permanently.

Everywhere we went, there were masses of people: locals, tourists, and many homeless people. As I walked the streets of Old Town, taking in all of the sights and street vendors, my eyes were drawn down to the sidewalk. There was an older man, shrunken in statue, unshaven, and holding a torn piece of cardboard. On it he had written just three words: ugly and hungry. And my heart broke right there.

I wanted to stop. I wanted to sit down right next to him against the cracked adobe wall, take his hand, look him in the eye, and speak truth to his weathered heart. I wanted to tell him of God's love for him, a love that was given for all of us made ugly by sin. But, I didn't. I not only missed the opportunity to share with him about the Bread of Life, but I also missed the opportunity to give him food to satisfy his physical hunger.

My eyes drip liquid remorse in the remembering of it all. And I ask for forgiveness. And I ask for more opportunities to act instead of being paralyzed by not knowing how a situation will unfold. Because, it really doesn't matter as much as my obedience, does it? And on this Thanksgiving, I am so thankful for a God who is full of endless second chances - for a God who is able to redeem the ugly and hungry.

So, tonight, as I sit in the shelter of my home, I pray for that man. Tonight, I ask God to redeem the ugly parts of my heart and cause me to only truly hunger after him and his ways.