Every once in a while, I am taught a lesson that is so blatantly obvious that I have no choice, but to sit up and pay attention. Today contained one of those lessons.
Over the last two years living in Los Angeles, I would have to admit that my tolerance and patience for beggers and panhandlers has diminished. One might think that my countless brushes with homelessness would make me more sensitive to their plight, but it hasn’t. Looking back, I see the same legalistic wickedness that was found in the Pharisees.
“Look upon me with favor, Lord!” is my attitude. “I am not like this beggar, who is unwilling to work for their wages. I have not stooped to their level of desperation!” (If you don’t know my reference, see Jesus’ parable told in Luke 18:9-14.)
God has pointed this flaw out to me before. You would think I would have caught on the first time. Apparently not. I refuse to make eye contact. I never give them any money. In fact, I lie about not having any change on me; self-justified by the fact that I have little money and, what I do have, I need for myself so I can eat and carry on.
Today, God decided to show me my selfishness.
After putting enough gas in my tank to return from a speaking engagement in San Diego, I was down to my last fifteen dollars. This needed to last me a couple days at the least. At this point, every dime spent is scrutinized.
To my blessing, I was treated to lunch by my client. They even grabbed me an ice-blended coffee a couple hours later during a meeting. Two blatant examples of me being taken care of despite my circumstance.
The culmination of this story comes during my evening commute. I stopped at a 7-Eleven to pick up a pack of gum (I was out and headed to bible study, you know the drill). As I approached a door, a woman approached me.
“Do you have any spare change?” she asked. “I’m hungry and I’d like to get something to eat from this store.”
“I’m sorry,” I said without making eye contact. I moved as quickly for the door as possible. “I only have what’s on my debit card.”
I lied. Not only did I have cash and change in my pocket, but there isn’t even any money available on my debit cards. I just switched immediately into my defensive “you aren’t getting any of my money” mode. This revelation was the first thing the Holy Spirit convicted me of.
I glanced out the store windows. In order to uphold my lie, I wanted to make sure she didn’t see me paying with cash. Instead, she was talking to two other women that were about to come into the store. I assumed that they were blowing her off as well, so I went back to my business at hand. A moment later, I turned around and was surprised to see her in the next aisle.
I stood there. Judging her heavy makeup and furious inside that it would now be more difficult to contain my lie. Then I realized what was happening.
“I think I’m going to get a pizza!” she said excitedly to the two women, nearly jumping up and down.
“Whatever you want,” came the reply. They waited patiently by the register while she ran around the store, deciding what she wanted.
My job dropped as everything was pieced together in front of me. My hardened heart had lied and refused to help, while these women were generously buying her the sustinance to continue on. And based on the excitment of this woman I had just shunned, I knew her hunger was real. After all, I’ve been there myself.
Again, I was convicted. The fact I only had a handful of money was beside the point, I had been given reprieve twice that day and I had not returned the favor.
“Whatever you do to the least of these, you do unto me.” These words of Christ echoed in my head as I hurried to check out. I returned to my car and quickly drove away as my heart ached. I failed to live out my faith in the simplest way of pulling out the loose change that I didn’t need to spend to begin with.
As if to further emphasize the event, I then met up with a friend for dinner and he paid my burger. I ate the entire day without spending a penny, but I couldn’t spare a few for someone else.