In my previous post I shared about an encounter with Richard along the banks of the Mississippi River in Savanna, IL. That post ended this way:

I make a commitment in my heart to do the best I can to welcome and connect to anyone that God brings my way. Because sometimes I fail to do so. Spectacularly so. That will be the topic of my next post.

What follows is “my next post.”

His eyes. I can still see his eyes. Those eyes carried all the disappointment and desperation in the world. When I rejected his simple request, his shoulders, his entire body, just sank… his body began to diminish under the weight of my rejection, as if he would simply deflate and end up a pile of broken, wounded flesh and bones still crying out for for assistance… acceptance… love… And those eyes… well… I can still see the impact of my rejection in his eyes. I think if he began crying, he Would. Never. Stop.

My wife and I just walked out of the store. I wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere, although, as an America in a culture that awards busyness and activity, my unspoken expectation is to be free of delay or interruption because I have to get nowhere in particular, and I have to get there quickly.

I don’t remember his exact words, but suddenly we turned around because we did hear a gentleman say something. It was one of those moments where my first inner response was, “Where did he come from?”

He was slowly walking towards us. He looked impossibly tired. He spoke softly… gently… but there seemed to be a great effort behind his tone. As if he were holding back the story of his life of pain, loss and suffering. He simply asked for some money to by some food.

He began to explain why he needed some help, but I interrupted him. I did not even give him the dignity of listening to his story. And I am a pastor who understands and has talked about the importance of listening, because listening is so close to being loved that most people can’t tell the difference.

“I’m sorry, we can’t right now.” That’s when he began to deflate. Then I turned and walked away.

We got in the car and my dear wife said, “We could have brought him into the store to get him some food.”

There is no excuse for my response. It reveals a coldness and pride that is ugly. I know better, but my problem is usually not about what I know. I have asked for forgiveness and mercy. I still need that today. And will need it tomorrow.

Kyrie eleison. Chiste eleison.

I move forward not wanting to be a better person. I move forward praying that I will display the mercy, grace, and love that I claim to be my faith.

Thanks for listening.