Share my faith?! But I have to pee!

This is not Frank.
Picture from jeffpearlman.com

I am still adjusting to my new work schedule of working overnight shifts.  I oftentimes overestimate my ability to rapidly adapt to new or challenging situations.  I am transitioning from nine to five office work to overnight emergencies and strange scheduling changes.  Now it is a matter of learning when I go to the store, when I go to the gym, when I clean and do laundry.  I am still learning when I am supposed to sleep.  Due to my "nocturnal confusion", I am not always the happiest of campers after being up all night.

I decided to run errands after work yesterday.  I have to get some work done to my car and I have been getting estimates from various shops.  After visiting a few shops, I regretted drinking too much caffeine and coffee on the overnight shift - I had to find a bathroom to use.  As I drove past a Starbucks, I thought that I should stop to use the bathroom, but decided to press onward until I reached the next stop on my list of shops to visit.  When i reached the next auto body shop, the bathroom was in use the entire time I was there.  I decided that even if that bathroom became available, it would probably be wise for me to find another bathroom to use.  I drove back to the Starbucks, thankful for the relief to come.

I got out of my car and saw a man dressed in multiple layers of overly dirty clothing suited for a Christian Children Fund's commercial.  I knew what this meant.  If there was a homeless or impoverished man in a public place, Jesus was going to have me talk to him.  He always does that.  It's almost as if He expects me to love other people when it is inconvenient for me.  It's almost as if He wants me to be a good witness or something.  And normally, I am okay with that.  However, I had to pee and I hadn't slept.  "Lord, please not today."  I walked right past the man and right to the bathroom.  "Oh, this is too good to be true," I thought.

I walked out of the Starbucks and towards my car.  I walked right past the man, whom I tried to sneak behind quietly but quickly.  "God, please not today."  I was almost at my driver door when the man called out to me, "Do you have some money for coffee?"  I froze in my tracks and looked at the man with what must have been a facial expression of utter exhaustion and slight annoyance.  I checked my pocket for money.  "God, maybe I spent it all."  Nope.  Three dollars.  Just enough for a coffee at Starbucks.

I stopped giving money to people on the street a long time ago.  Cash in the hand of the addicted and the afflicted is like a small item in the hand of a baby.  Eventually, someone is going to choke and someone is going to have to come to the rescue (tax payers, EMTs, parents, etc.).  However, I was tempted to just fork out the cash this time.  I knew better.  "Sure, I can buy you a coffee."  "How about a hot chocolate?" he asked.  Seriously?  "Sure, hot chocolate."

I get in line and a stocky Italian guy gets in line behind me.  I mean, I'm a stocky Italian guy too but this guy had a nose that the rest of his face orbited and cheeks to match.  His friends probably called him "Vinny the Hand" or "Bobby Two Time" or something like that.  Without introduction or appropriate social cue, he blurted, "I see Frank roped you in here too."  It took me a few seconds to comprehend what he was saying and to determine who Frank could possibly be.  I was annoyed that this guy was talking to me too and even more irritated that he might be criticizing me for buying the possibly homeless overly dressed smelly man named Frank a hot chocolate at Starbucks.  "Yeah, I guess," I replied.  Rocky Balboa's fatter cousin supported me when he said, "He's a regular around here.  We all buy him something every now and then.  He got me the other day.  Sad thing is that he's actually rich and owns properties throughout Florida.  No one knows why he lives the way he does.  The paper did a story on him a couple months ago."  Tony the Hand and I talked about this for a few minutes.  "Don't get any whipped cream on his hot chocolate, he doesn't like it."

I ordered a hot chocolate without whipped cream and the guy behind the counter gave me a look.  He knew that Frank the Tank outside of the Starbucks had "roped me in."  I felt like a fool.  Exhausted, grumpy, and buying a drink for a man who has more money than most of us will ever earn.  This had to be a cosmic joke.  I walked outside with the hot chocolate, went to my car to grab a "Knowing God Personally" booklet and brought both the drink and the track to Frank.

Forty minutes later, Frank was still talking to me about politics, racial discrimination, neighborhood crime, and the perplexities of the human condition.  Trying to be a good Christian, I attempted to witness a few times (witness = share my faith) but Frank brushed over my "come to Jesus" comments and kept repeating the same conversation topics again and again.  Questioning the mental stability of my new friend and my mental stability after going too many hours without sleep, I finally left.  I texted Lauren later on and she asked me what I was still doing up.  I told her I got caught up talking to a homeless guy (who may actually not be homeless after all) and she laughed the "this stuff only happens to you" laugh.  I did too, but only because I wasn't still talking to Frank.

So I am reading Jeremiah in the Bible now.  In Jeremiah 8 and 9, Jeremiah says that he is crushed, in mourning and horrified at the spiritual condition of his people and their fate because of their disobedience (Jer. 8:21-22, Jer. 9:1-2).  I noted in my journal the following:

"As I read through Jeremiah, I am impressed by Jeremiah's sensitivity to the brokenness of his people.  They are lost in sin and refuse to repent, they are stubborn and frankly, irritating.  Yet, Jeremiah mourns for them.  God, I don't mourn for anyone but me.  Help me to not be so self centered."


And then I reflected upon my time with Frank.  Did I really mourn for his condition?  A man with enough resources to care for himself but yet does not?  A man who swore worse than any sailor (I've never hung out with sailors so I don't really know how much they curse) and is ignorant of the Gospel?  Was my heart broken for this man or was I lost in the land of "I'm tired, woe is me, I'm not going to let my light shine before men?"  Sure, I stayed and chatted with him for forty minutes, but I did not delight in knowing this man or his story.  I was doing my duty, fulfilling my obligation.  God granted me an opportunity to be Jesus to Frank and instead I was a Starbucks barista.  The difference between playing barista and being Jesus in this situation is attitude and intention.  My attitude was not to love, my intention was to get the heck out of dodge without feeling guilty on the way home.

I want to be like Jeremiah, you know?  I want to care about people so much that I cry if they suffer.  I want to mourn if people do not know Jesus.  I want to celebrate with them when they are happy and weep with them when they are sad.  I want that all to be real; I want it all to be a genuine expression of my deeply rooted fellowship with the Holy Spirit.  How many opportunities to "be Jesus" do we miss in an effort to be an efficient and impersonal facsimile disciple?  We love drive-thru salvation calls at churches, quick emails about prayer requests, and diluted devotionals and digital commentaries that can easily be searched on our tablets or smart phones.

Frank did say one thing that stuck with me.  "Steve, I can tell that you are a decent guy, that you don't look down on people.  Not everyone is like you."  I am thankful that Frank is not God, that he could not see the meditations of my heart.  God used our seemingly unimportant conversations about politics, news, and neighborhood crime to keep Frank company for forty minutes or so.  And he used the conversation as a tool to remind me of Jesus' character and the qualities of His prophets.  He also reminded me to never pray to not be used.  It's an easy way to have God not answer a prayer.

We are Jesus' prophets, His representatives today.  Let's learn from our lamenting prophet, Jeremiah, and love people until it hurts.  He calls us to love everyone, even the supposedly unlovely.  True story.