The Man in the Path with the Garbage

Does he really have to be sorting that trash in the middle of the path? I thought to myself. That’s where we always walk. Can’t he be considerate of other people? 

Wham!—the moment those words entered my mind, I hit a brick wall. Not literally, though it would have served me right. The realization of what I had just thought hit me with such a force I had to put in all my effort not to stop right there and stare at the man in the path. 

The man in the path with the garbage. 

The man in the path who was probably depending on the garbage, either to find something to eat or to sell to buy something to eat. 

And here I was, mentally complaining that he was in my way. 

The alternative path, by the way, was about ten feet to the left. This was not a big inconvenience. And even if it had been… so what? 

I continued. I did my shopping and I went home, but I went home sad. I was sad about what I saw. I can hardly imagine being in a situation desperate enough to need to pick through trash to get by. I have looked through many a dumpster to find treasures and interesting things not valued by my neighbors, things which I could repurpose into something pretty, or practical, or fun. But that was with an air of joy, of creativity, of lightheartedness. That was not in hunger. That was not in desperation. That was not my last resort. 

I went home sad about what I had seen, but I went home even more sad about what I had become. Years ago, my first thought would have been one of compassion. My first thought would have been of the help he needed. My first thought would have been of him. Now?… now somehow I had made it about me. My agenda. My path (which is not even my path at all). My convenience. My comfort. 

Dare I even still call myself a missionary? Let alone missionary—dare I still call myself a follower of Jesus? 

When did I make the change from thinking about others to thinking about myself? When did I replace compassion with a schedule? When did it go from a passion to a job? A To Do list? 

I felt the callouses on my heart as if they were anvils. Something ugly had risen up and I hand’t even paused to notice. Do I still see anything anymore? Anything real? 

I never saw the man in the path again, but I hope that someday, if I do, I see him. 

Everyone deserves that much. 

Seeing the people, Jesus felt compassion for them… (Matthew 9:36)

Looking at him, Jesus felt a love for him… (Mark 10:21)

When Jesus saw her, His heart broke… (Luke 7:13)