Fear of the Homeless

(copied from my 360.yahoo.com blog dated 8/4/07)

Two days ago I went to Walgreens to get a photograph developed for my husband's thirtieth birthday party. Sitting in the shade along the side of the building was a man, obviously homeless. His skin was dark and wrinkled, he had missing teeth. All of his worldly belongings lay next to him in a tattered canvas bag. As I walked by him with my two small daughters, he smiled brightly, waved and said something I did not understand, possibly in Spanish. I could see he was delighted by my beautiful girls. Instinctively, I smiled back...but I also picked up the pace, clutching my toddler's hand a little more tightly.

When I crossed into the boundaries of the store, the safe zone, I reprimanded myself for assuming absolutely everything about this man. I assumed that he was not a safe person. I assumed that he wanted something from me. I assumed that he was unpredictable and might harm me or my girls if I said or did the wrong thing. And yet, all he did was smile and wave. He didn't ask for money, he didn't move to stand up; I believe he was no more a threat than the clerk in the store or the gas station attendant across the street. He was just a homeless person trying to find solace from the heat.

As I left the store, the man who checked out in front of me was in conversation with the homeless man. "Why didn't I do that?" I thought. This experience has rekindled thoughts that have been with me for years now. I live very close to downtown San Antonio, TX. There are homeless people all around me. I see them every day. In my heart I have compassion towards them. I want to reach out to them but I am filled with inexplicable fear. My mind says, "Help that person!" but I freeze up and in most instances keep walking or driving. Why can't I at least strike up a conversation with them? Maybe helping them would be as simple as directing them to the nearest shelter or providing them a meal or paying for bus fare. Ben and I moved into our neighborhood expecting God to give us opportunities to reach out to the poor. The opportunities are all around me, but I don't act. It is very frustrating.

Paul says in Romans 7:15 (NIV) "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do."

It is a temptation to fall into self loathing when I know that God has asked me to love my neighbor and I find it difficult to obey. But I also know that God is growing me, albeit slowly. It was a major step of faith just to move onto a street so absolutely different than the country and suburbia that I knew as a child and young adult. I dealt with fear then as well. I feared home invasions, gangs, child predators, the works. I soon learned that I had moved into a neighborhood full of families. Hmmm.

There will sooner or later be a moment when I feel the call to act on behalf of the homeless so strongly that I can't help but obey. God will ordain the moment and give me triumph over my fears. The time, the place and the way will be clear. Then I know God's blessings will overflow for myself and for the person I try to help. And I will look back on that day and say to my husband, "Remember when I was afraid of the homeless? Thank God those days are over!"
Meanwhile, I must continue to be diligent in combating wrong assumptions about the homeless I encounter. Do not pass judgement over them or their situation; keep perspective by trying to see them the way God seems them. I especially want my children to observe compassionate acts and a heart of service towards the poor and homeless. I do not want them to grow up fearing the homeless.