Today I saw a homeless man on the street. He was curled up and sleeping. He looked cold. I imagined myself as him, lying on cold cement in the cold winter air. I shivered.
“I would want a long coat to keep me warm,” I thought to myself.
I walked into a nearby second-hand shop to see if there were any long coats that might fit this man. I expected to pay $15 dollars, maybe $20 if it were a particularly nice coat. Being winter, many of the coats were already gone, but there was one long black wool coat that looked like this man’s size. I checked the price tag, $40. It was double what I had wanted to pay. I looked around for another coat, maybe one that was shorter. I found one. It was thin and badly worn. It was $12.
“I can afford $12” I thought. I picked up the coat and took one step towards the cashier.
“If you were cold, would this keep you warm?” I could almost hear God ask me.
“No, but it’s better than nothing.” I replied.
The voice was quiet, but reproachful.
“Fine,” I said, “I’ll get the expensive coat.” I picked up the long wool jacket and walked to the cashier. As I placed my money on the counter, I wondered if the homeless man would still be there when I went back. I wondered what I would do with this coat if he had gone.
“God,” I whispered quietly, “You better know what you’re doing.”
“This coat looks nice and warm,” the cashier smiled sweetly.
“It will be keeping someone very warm this winter” I replied not really knowing who the ‘someone’ was going to be.
I took the coat outside and found the man still sleeping quietly on the street. He had a warm cup of coffee in front of him. I leaned over him placing the coat over his sleeping body, like a mother would place a blanket over her child. I startled him quiet badly. He woke up with a jerk, spilling his cup of coffee on the road. He ignored the coat completely. He mumbled something that sounded aggressive but incoherent. He smelt horrid, like old sweat and dirt. His fingernails were long and dark from lack of grooming.
“I just wanted to leave this coat with you,” I said trying to calm him. He mumbled something about his wife leaving him but refused to look at me or the coat that lay discarded next to him.
“Are you okay?” I asked trying to get him to talk to me. He didn’t. He looked straight ahead, occasionally saying something I couldn’t make out. Finally, as he sat drinking his coffee, I just stood up and walked away.
When you do something special for someone it’s supposed to feel good. You’re supposed to feel like you’ve done something right. As I walked away from the man I felt hollow. I hadn’t done a good deed, I’d caused a homeless man to spill a precious cup of coffee and I didn’t even offer to replace it. I was repulsed by his smell and appearance. My ‘good deed of the day’ was painfully empty of the compassion it should have held. As an imitator of Christ I had failed and my failure shamed me, leaving me empty.
Christ was amazing. After spending 30-some years with us in our dirty, smelly world, He chose to give us a pricey gift. This gift would clothe us forever and give us a home to belong to. This gift would literally be our salvation. But we didn’t even say “thank you”. We were ungrateful.
I want to be like Jesus. My meager imitation is painful and embarrassing even in the best of times yet I continue to try. Why? Because Jesus asked me to treat the people like I would treat Him. While I may not do a great job, I can only get better with practice!
“Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of these least of these My brethren, you did it to Me,” Matthew 25:40
