I spent the summer of 1991 as a volunteer youth worker
running a day camp at the First Church of Love, Faith and Deliverance in the
Strawberry Mansion neighborhood of Philadelphia. There were ten of us ministering out of our
church, and about a dozen similar teams around the city. I worked with the first graders. Wonderful kids. Three of them worked their way into my heart
and have been a part of my prayer life ever since.
One Saturday toward the end of summer, our team took a bus
downtown to see the city. We spent some
time walking down sixth street, I think it was; sort of a trendy, uptown sort
of place with interesting shops. I
remember wandering into a few stores with my friends. None of us had much money, but it was fun to
hang out with this great group of people I had spent two months living and
working with.
Toward the end of our afternoon, my team turned into one
particular shop, but I stayed outside to wait.
I think my interest in window shopping had waned, and it was a beautiful
day. I had one dollar on my person – bus
fare back to our neighborhood. I noticed
a man sitting on the sidewalk nearby, panhandling. We were both alone waiting on the sidewalk,
so I said hello and introduced myself, apologizing that I didn’t have anything
to give him as I needed my one dollar bus fare.
What happened next changed the direction of my life.
The stranger I had just met said,
“Mike, that is OK. You stopped to talk
with me. You recognized me here and took
time to introduce yourself.” Then he
reached into his back pocket and pulled out a ragged Gideon New Testament, the
little pocket version with the Psalms and Proverbs at the end. He flipped to Psalm 41:1 and read “Blessed is
the one who considers the poor! In the day of
trouble the Lord delivers him; the Lord protects him and keeps him alive; he is
called blessed in the land.” He thanked
me and blessed me with a smile and a friendly handshake.
The aftermath of that few minute
exchange on a Philadelphia sidewalk was far-reaching, is still
far-reaching. Personally, it was a
prophetic confirmation of a growing call to spend myself on behalf of the
hungry. It remains a mysterious signpost
for me, this seemingly chance encounter.
But more importantly, it re-defined the meaning of this calling,
re-defined perhaps how I considered the poor.
I still move and act in a highly abstract realm, life is not terribly
different for me day to day. I have to
remind myself from time to time of the purpose of the work – trying to increase
the productivity of seeds being grown by the poorest farmers in the world,
hoping the effort yields additional grain for food and income. The work itself is complex and scientific,
with workplace dynamics and donor requirements and intercultural
exchanges. But the beauty of this
promise from Psalm 41 has never lost its profound impact: consider the poor,
recognize the person in front of you and introduce yourself. Regardless of what you can or cannot do for
him or her in the external, you can always give dignity and respect and
consideration.
And you never know what
unbelievably valuable things they may give you in return.
