Life had treated him hard . . .

Mid forties, but he looked mid sixties. Timid, shy, embarrassed. Hair a yellowish white, dirty looking even though he had just showered and shampooed. Clothes mismatched, a t-shirt that read “Harvard, the school of champions,” a simple wooded cross around his neck. Eyes continuously flickering from one focus point to another, unable to look you directly in the eyes, eyes of a kicked dog. He was so skittish that I was afraid he might break and run at any moment.

Seven days without a drink or a hit, three days in a room and not a park bench. Unable to sleep because it was too quiet. Afraid that it would not continue, fear that he could not succeed.

Four years on the street, a wife who he still loved but who’d thrown him out because of drink and a career that was no more.

He knew the best place to get a free breakfast: “Eggs, grits and cheese toast; the cheese toast was a real treat!” He knew the warmest place to sleep: “Behind Temple Baptist’s dumpster.”

He’d watched a friend beaten to death. Death that was “just because.” Quietly spoken, “He was homeless just like me; he was my friend; he didn’t do nothing to nobody.” A pause, “he begged them to stop.”

He’d come in from the cold, literally. “Don’t know why, just did.” It was there that he found redemption. A simple presentation easily understood by one who had nothing. He accepted the invitation and was transformed.

God blesses those who are poor and realize their need for him, for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs.     Matthew 5:3