Wednesday, Jan 13th, PM.  I pass by a homeless man every morning after I get off the train.  He’s got a semi warm spot staked out, over grates spewing warm air up from the metro system.  So I tell myself that despite his situation, he’ll survive.  It satisfies what’s become my mostly-numb-feelings for his plight, enough that I’m able to keep walking by without doing something about it.  The poor, after all, will always be with us, Jesus Himself said (John 12:8).  So who am I to fight something that’s uphill both ways?  Easier to keep on walking.

What’s even easier, is to quickly imagine all the bad choices the person made and how they helped lead him to the point exactly where he is in life, sleeping in 15 degree weather on top of a 60 degree stream of air.  He must deserve this, I’m sure I’ve subconsciously thought, even though I tell myself that my heart hasn’t gotten that hard and that I would never look down on someone like that.  But still, if he had only listened to his teacher, or his parents, or his friends, or whomever!

It may be completely true.  It may be his own fault. It probably is true.  Growing up back home, even the down and out knew to survive that they still had to dig a few turnips out of a farmer’s gleaning patch and boil them in a pot.  All he does is sit and beg.  Irrespective, he’s still there every morning, a reminder of what I’ve got (temporarily a steward of) that he doesn’t, whoever’s to blame.

The fresh scenes from Haiti catch me the same way.  Not the horrific chaos and tragic loss of life, or crumbled buildings and unimaginable suffering, but the context of misery that already existed that this massive earthquake is simply highlighting.  The 60% unemployment rate, the less than a dollar a day living for most, the failed political system, the prevalence of gang rule in many areas.  Like the homeless person always sitting there, you feel bad for them, but isn’t it easy to quickly think that some of it is their own fault too?  They have made a mess of things for years, and still continue to, so surprise, surprise, that they wake up in the middle of a disaster and aren’t capable of doing hardly anything except to cry out for someone else to come to their rescue.

The rescue that seems unimaginable, though bless the good people’s hearts and hands that are trying.  Still, too much misery, too much death.  Where to even begin?  Easier to look the other way and keep on walking.

This is where we are not made in the image of God and where the devil fights to remain in control.  Where walking by every morning and doing nothing becomes second nature.  Where being okay with the suffering of others becomes numb to us.  Turn off CNN and turn on the ballgame, or the sitcom, or whatever, but who can stand to watch this tragic, bleak, misery in Haiti day in and day out?

Can you imagine if that is how God reacted to us in our sorry sinful situation?  We’ve got to be the homeless person that is pitiful to walk by, the Haiti that’s beyond a disaster.  And instead of closing His eyes, He sees the carnage that sin has brought.   The death, dismemberment, shock.  Instead of closing  His ears, He hears the begging, the crying out for mercy.  And, He takes action.

Our inclination is to look the other way.  His inclination is to find another way.   The Way.  A rescue plan where despite all the bad choices we’ve made in our lives, despite all of our not listening to our parents, our friends, our Bible school teacher, our preacher, to God Himself, despite all of that, He must take action.  He has to come to the rescue.  Because we have cried out.

He is the search and rescue team actively looking for us.

What a Savior.

And the really great news is that unlike the vast majority of poor trapped folks in Haiti whose voices will go silent waiting for someone to hear their cries, waiting for the rescue that will never come despite good intentions and valiant efforts, The Rescuer hears each of our voices, knows exactly what we are trapped under, and will pull us out of the rubble of our collapsed lives, guaranteed.

Won’t we cry out?

EPILOGUE:  Tuesday, Jan 19th, AM

I wrote the above article last Wednesday, the day after the quake had happened, as I was trying to process what was taking place.  I’ve been to 62 countries, and hands down the worst I’ve been to – no malicious intent here – is Nigeria where my brother lives.  But I’ve been told by my foreign service colleagues that Haiti is a double first cousin to Nigeria, where problems are similar – a failed state, rule of law is a pipe dream and many people live in fear, distrust and abject poverty although there is wealth - and the wealthy- around.

But what exists in Nigeria, and if you didn’t turn the TV off, what exists in Haiti, is faith.  Despite, or perhaps because of, all their trials, there are many amazing people with amazing faith.  Who caused the lead story on CNN for a while the past week to be about how though things looked bleak, their trust was in God.

I got off the train this morning, having spent the time rereading and editing the article, trying again to process the events.  Faced with a new set of facts – the Haitian’s faith, the spontaneous collection Sunday after Joe’s unscripted account of connection with our brethren in Haiti – I was reminded of how, ok, we are made in the image of God, or more importantly how we are remade in the image of God.  Where if we resist the devil’s numbing techniques, we can become a member of the search and rescue team by “engaging in good deeds to meet pressing needs” (Titus 3:14), in this instance giving of our means, or distributing goods to the victims as our brethren in Haiti are doing.

Having reread the article, I also, in all good conscience, could not walk past the homeless person’s cup without putting something in for the first time – not that I’m trying to let the left hand know what I’m doing (Matt 6:3).  What’s interesting, is that when I got closer to put my money in the cup, the sign below that always says “Smile, have a good day” instead had been changed over the weekend to say “Smile. God is Good.”  Just to remind me.  I’m sure of it.  Because that’s exactly what dropping in a few dollars did.  It reminded me of how good God is to me.  It reminded me that He walks by me every day and drops some money in my cup even though I don’t deserve it.  And in my giving, in my meager imitation of God, in His image, it helped me understand grace like few experiences have.  I felt like Helen Keller feeling water with her teacher, and finally putting two and two together, and being able to say it, G-R-A-C-E.

He’s homeless, and seems destitute, and what instead he and the Haitians have reminded me of is how destitute our spirits are, and our need to be reminded, even through misery, of the grace that God has given.  And that God is good.  It is, in the face of it all, something to smile about.