It was an unusually cold day for the month of May.
Spring had arrived and everything was alive with color.
But a cold front from the North had brought winter's chill back
to Indiana. I sat, with two friends, in the picture window
of a quaint restaurant just off the corner of the town square.
The food and the company were both especially
good that day.
As we talked, my attention was drawn outside,
across the street.
There, walking into town, was a man who appeared
to be carrying all his worldly goods on his back.
He was carrying, a well worn sign that read, "I will work
for food." My heart sank. I brought him to the attention
of my friends and noticed that others around us had
stopped eating to focus on him. Heads moved in a mixture
of sadness and disbelief. We continued with our meal,
but his image lingered in my mind.
We finished our meal and went our separate ways.
I had errands to do and quickly set out to accomplish them.
I glanced toward the town square, looking somewhat
halfheartedly for the strange visitor. I was fearful, knowing
that seeing him again would call some response. I drove
through town and saw nothing of him. I made some
purchases at a store and got back in my car.
Deep within me, the Spirit of God kept speaking to me:
"Don't go back to the office until you've at least driven
once more around the square." And so, with some
hesitancy, I headed back into town. As I turned the square's
third corner. I saw him. He was standing on the steps of the
storefront church, going through his sack. I stopped and
looked, feeling both compelled to speak to him,
yet wanting to drive on.
The empty parking space on the corner seemed to be a sign
from God: an invitation to park. I pulled in, got out and
approached the town's newest visitor.
"Looking for the pastor?" I asked.
"Not really," he replied, "just resting."
"Have you eaten today?" I asked.
He replies, "Oh, I ate something early this morning."
I ask, "Would you like to have lunch with me?"
"Do you have some work I could do for you?" he asks.
"No work," I replied. "I commute here to work from the city,
but I would like to take you to lunch."
"Sure," he replied with a smile.
As he began to gather his things. I asked some surface
questions. "Where you headed?"
"St. Louis." he replies.
"Where you from?" I ask.
"Oh, all over; mostly Florida." he answers.
"How long you been walking?" I ask curiously.
I knew I had met someone unusual. We sat across from each
other in the same restaurant I had left earlier. His face was
weathered slightly beyond his 38 years. His eyes were dark,
yet clear, and he spoke with an eloquence and articulation
that was startling. He removed his jacket to reveal a bright
red T-shirt that said, "Jesus is The Never Ending Story."
Then Daniel's story began to unfold. He had seen rough times
early in life. He'd made some wrong choices and reaped the
consequences. Fourteen years earlier, while backpacking
across the country, he had stopped on the beach in Daytona.
He tried to hire on with some men who were putting up a
large tent and some equipment. A concert, he thought. He
was hired, but the tent would not house a concert, but
revival services, and in those services he saw life more
clearly. He gave his life over to God.
"Nothing's been the same since," he said, "I felt the Lord
telling me to keep walking, and so I did,
some 14 years now."
"Ever think of stopping?" I asked.
"Oh, once in a while, when it seems to get the best of me.
But God has given me this calling. I give out Bibles. That's
what's in my sack. I work to buy food and Bibles, and I
give them out when His Spirit leads."
I sat amazed. My homeless friend was not homeless. He
was on a mission and lived this way by choice. The
question burned inside for a moment and then I asked:
"What's it like?"
"What?" he responded.
"To walk into a town carrying all your things on your back
and to show your sign?" I continued.
"Oh, it was humiliating at first. People would stare and
make comments. Once someone tossed a piece of half
eaten bread and made a gesture that certainly didn't make
me feel welcome. But then it became humbling to realize
that God was using me to touch lives and change people's
concepts of other folks like me."
My concept was changing, too. We finished our dessert and
gathered his things. Just outside the door, he paused. He
turned to me and said, "Come Ye blessed of my Father and
inherit the kingdom I've prepared for you. For when I was
hungry you gave me food, when I was thirsty you gave me
drink, a stranger and you took me in."
I felt as if we were on holy ground.
"Could you use another Bible?" I asked. He said he
preferred a certain translation. It traveled well and was not
too heavy. It was also his personal favorite.
"I've read through it 14 times," he said.
"I'm not sure we've got one of those, but let's stop by our
church and see."
I was able to find my new friend a Bible that would do well,
and he seemed very grateful.
"Where you headed from here?" I asked.
"Well, I found this little map on the back of this amusement
park coupon." he answered.
"Are you hoping to hire on there for awhile?" I asked.
"No, I just figure I should go there. I figure someone under
that star right there needs a Bible, so that's where I'm
going next." He smiled, and the warmth of his spirit
radiated the sincerity of his mission.
I drove him back to the town square where we'd met two
hours earlier, and as we drove, it started raining. We
parked and unloaded his things.
"Would you sign my autograph book?" he asked. "I like
to keep messages from folks I meet."
I wrote in his little book that his commitment to his
calling had touched my life. I encouraged him to stay
strong. And I left him with a verse of scripture from
Jeremiah, "I know the plans I have for you," declared
the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to
harm you. Plans to give you a future and a hope."
"Thank you," he said. "I know we just met and we're
really just strangers, but I love you."
"I know," I said, "I love you, too."
"The Lord is good." he replied.
"Yes, He is. How long has it been since someone
hugged you?" I asked.
"A long time," he replied.
And so on the busy street corner in the drizzling rain,
my new friend and I embraced, and I felt deep inside
that I had been changed. He put his things on his
back, smiled his winning smile and said, "See you in the
New Jerusalem."
"I'll be there!" was my reply.
He began his journey again. He headed away with his
sign dangling from his bed roll and pack of Bibles.
He stopped, turned and said, "When you see something
that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?"
"You bet," I shouted back, "God bless."
"God bless." And that was the last I saw of him.
Late that evening as I left my office, the wind blew strong.
The cold front had settled hard upon the town. I
bundled up and hurried to my car. As I sat back and
reached for the emergency brake, I saw them...a
pair of well worn brown work gloves neatly laid over
the length of the handle. I picked them up and
thought of my friend and wondered if his hands would
stay warm that night without them. I remembered
his words: "If you see something that makes you
think of me, will you pray for me?"
Today his gloves lie on my desk in my office. They
help me to see the world and its people in a new way,
and they help me remember those two hours with
my unique friend and to pray for his ministry.
"See you in the New Jerusalem," he said.
Yes, Daniel, I know I will...
If this story touched you, share this page with a friend!
"I shall pass this way but once. Therefore, any good that
I can do or any kindness that I can show, let me do
it now, for I shall not pass this way again."
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