Hobo's for Jesus

Hobo’s for Jesus –

I do have to say, my life seems like it is transformed by the teachings of brennan manning. However, they really seem harder for me to follow than the moralistic codes that I have been steeped in for so long.

We are like ragamuffins, hobo’s under God’s grace, but so many times I find my self spiritually, and in physical life wrapped up in pride.

When I spent time around the homeless,(the true down and out, not panhandlers) so many of these men were so broken, They wouldn’t ask or demand anything, but if things got bad enough they would ask you. And boy, woud they be greatful. If you handed a guy a bag of day old cheesburgers you would think that you had handed him a wad of $20 bills. And change and cigarettes became Diamonds and Faberge eggs before my very eyes.

But here I am. I would rather walk 2 miles in the rain than to ask someone for a ride. I would rather blow all my money on something that I don’t necessarily need, so I’d never have to borrow it from anyone. I’d spend money that I could use on important things on things that I only made important because they helped to maintain my image, so I could cherish my rare and fleeting prize of a passing comment falling on my burning, eavesdropping ears.I'd spend time and money to make sure I can watch TV so I have an excuse not to have human contact.

A homeless guy doesn’t care that he stinks, many of them could care less that you don’t. While you sit wondering why your life stinks so bad because you’re not getting your college paid for and you have to work a minimum wage job to get spending money for your own STUFF, here is a guy who is grateful just to have electric lights overhead, heat in the vents and a place to go with a door on it. And, boy, if he gets a cup of coffee, even better.

And I sit in my smarmy white boy universe, smug in the fact that I know that Jamaican blue mountain is far better that Kenyan AA coffee, and I wouldn’t drink that mcdonald’s swill if you paid me. I know that I have a warm bed at home with running water and a cabinet full of food, but I spent so many years with a hard ungrateful heart. A kid who couldn't get over the fact that my parents actually expect me to spend time serving at church, and do chores around the house and help with home improvement projects.

What I wouldn’t give to go back, have one more Saturday morning where mommy calls me to wake up and instead of rolling my eyes and pretending I don’t hear, I jump out of bed, and am so thankful for the fact that she cooked weird drop biscuits that are absolutely useless for putting eggs on and that she served sunny delight even though it makes me gag. And what I wouldn’t give to happily pitch in with getting the house cleaned up so I could relieve some stress from an already stressed life and avoid so many fights about where the flashlight went, or why do I have to buy this tool again, or why can’t these boys just clean up after themselves?

What I wouldn’t give to put on the first clothes in my drawer instead of carefully laying aside all of my carefully purchased designer clothes so I could get some clothes on that would be suitable to do the work I had been asked to do.

I would be so grateful to have the opportunity to cut boards, and haul logs, and pack a wheel bearing with grease, without complaining and keeping my mind on what social event I could get a mental and emotional buzz from next.

But too little, too late. I can just do with the rest of my life what I know to do. And that is to live poor in spirit. Live like a (relative) king (in chimp like-luxury), think like a hobo, always believe you don’t deserve the air you’re breathing, and be grateful for the dirt under your fingernails… and the people that love you enough to get you uncomfortable.

But above all, being grateful for the gift that we have received in the Lord Jesus Christ, who allowed sinful creatures to relate to almighty God, who loves us passionately and madly and unconditionally. Knowing there’s nothing we could do to repay it, and that any attempt would just be a useless, stressed out, slap in the face to the loving giver. But we take that bag of cheeseburgers we may frown upon at first, and with nothing to give back to the giver, we express thanks and strike up a conversation. And when are hungry enough to open the bag, there’s a pack of smokes,( your brand too) and a five. You didn’t ask for it. But they gave it to you.

The next time you see the giver, you make sure you have 1 burger left. Just so you can offer one. He doesn’t need it, and you would have eaten it, but because you now have something to give back, not because you worked and bought them, but because it was given to you.

You’re so grateful that you want to share with him, And talk and enjoy each other. If you go out looking for work, it’s not because you know you need to change your life, but because there’s someone who doesn’t think the only thing you deserve is the scraps you can scratch together of the life you ruined for yourself and the shopping cart you put them in. But someone loves you. You don’t know everyting about him. But you go to that same table by that same bed of mulch and you find him.

We are hopelessly impoverished without the grace of Christ. When we truly latch on to this, the idols in our lives and the stress and depression we put on ourselves begins to melt away. American-itis, the need for more, universal gluttony and instant gratification, a disease I suffer from - begins to heal and we begin to experience a natural - not forced- relationship with the God of the universe who transcends the greatest wealth and poorest poverty.