Searching out my faith. I work in downtown Austin and there is a large group of homeless here. They have high instances of schizophrenia. I often see people talking to themselves. Lately I have been thinking about this one woman I see. One morning in my quiet time I felt that Madeline might be her name. I feel led like I need to go and speak with her and tell her about Jesus. And let Him free her from some kind of bondage that is trapping her. I don’t even know about schizophrenia other than it has been a part of my family. It is a big part of my life and I feel like I am walking out some of the darkest days of my life not in a bad way but in a way that is going to help me and my family. Some way that will shed light on our past and the life of my grandfather. I don’t know; just feels that way.
I think or feel that these people are oppressed by something. Something we cannot see.
As I walk through this little mini mission trip downtown, I feel like I am putting together a jigsaw puzzle and can’t make the pieces fit. I feel the Lord working but I am just not confident that I am making the right moves.
As I left lunch yesterday I walked back up Congress Ave. with a good friend, Chris Bourne. He and I talked more after a great lunch. I had my leftovers and as I walked up the street I caught the eye of a woman I think is homeless.
Then he and I parted and I realized I had food. Food that maybe somebody needed. I searched around. Then as I started across Congress, a woman on a bench spoke to herself. “I told you they were there” something like that. I felt like she was homeless too. I walked around her carrying the food hoping she would look at me. Hoping to be led by the Spirit, wondering is she the person? Then I looked around again; no homeless people looking at me. So I walked back towards her and nothing. She was staring into space. Totally silent; no talking, just staring. I noticed she was wearing cleats. So now I know she is homeless. And I cross the street not convinced that she was the person. I head back toward the first lady I locked eyes with but now she was in a conversation with a man on a bench. Felt like a closed door.
So I turned around and walked back across the street. YES, CRAZY I KNOW! I am sure Chris was watching me out the window going “what a nut job”. But I digress. As I walk back towards her I stare her down, and nothing. She is staring in the distance. So I walk past her again but this time right in front of her. She won’t look at me. And I just can’t get the courage to engage her. Is she going to lash out at me? It has happened before. So then I say “enough”. I get about 50 feet away and decide I MUST give HER the food. So I walk up to her and say “Hi are you hungy? I have some really good fajitas here and would like to give them to you if you want them.” And she looks at me with the softest eyes. I can picture them now. She is about 50 or so. Wearing a colorful dress and she has a few bags with her. And yes she is wearing cleats.
She says “thank you” and I say “my name is jimmy.”
At that moment I am hoping she will say her name is ‘madeline’ but she does not return with her name. Nothing else she smiles and I say “bless you and have a good day” and I turn and walk back to my office.
I write this post because I feel like something happened, but I don’t know what. The Bible teaches that you may not know the fruit. I trust that. At the same time I think, man, I think that sucked and I should have done more. I should have prayed for her.
When I was a kid growing up we had a pool and a diving board. Gotta love the old days before that was TOO DANGEROUS, but I digress again. Back in those days my sister and I would say to my parents “watch this” and we would dive in or we would do a cannonball or whatever and each time I would think, man, that was the most perfect dive. They gottta give me a ten on that one. Or I would stink it up and get out of the water as fast as I could and run to beat Jennifer to the board so I could go again and erase that last one. You know what I am talking about?
I think for me as I work out my faith I am finding that my Father in Heaven is just like my parents in that moment. They would stand there and EVERY TIME they would give me a good score. OK, almost every time. I knew that they were tanking the scores but it didn’t matter to them. The loved me. I am sure they cringed on the big fat belly flops that were supposed to be a dive. But, I never saw that because I was underwater twisting in pain but they were there when I came out of the water. With either high marks or a tender knee by the pool to see if I was OK.
Our Father in Heaven is there too and He wants us to know it. Feel it. Right in our chest; in our hearts.
I think personally I did a big fat belly flop on that one yesterday. SMACK!
But as I thought about it more this morning I got some peace from my Father in Heaven. I think that when I spoke to that woman. I felt a connection in that moment. I know she felt it. Had to.
(Little deeper or weirder depending on your theology but hey I am feeling it)
And as I was thinking about it this morning and the thought crossed my mind that if there is something or was something oppressing that woman. Did it know Jeannie and I had discussed what was on my heart about praying for these people? Did it stop because it knew Jesus is in me? I walk past these people daily and they do not stop these conversations. This one stopped. I did not feel it at the time but today I do and that gives me such hope and confidence in HIM. Such confidence.
I am swimming for that ladder, baby. Ready to go again.