"I don't give money to the homeless, because they will just go and buy beer (or whiskey, or cheap wine). Now if you take them to a grocery store or a fast food restaurant and buy them lunch, that would be a wise use of money."
It's one of those ideas that most of us carry around in our wallet or purse, ready to be extracted when we pull our car up to the stoplight, and there's that filthy human being with the sign that says, "Homeless, hungry, God bless you."
We look straight ahead and try to pretend he's not there, but our children know better. Their eyes show it, and their innocent mouths speak it. How can you ignore someone like that? He doesn't look a thing like our neighbors, our fellow church attenders, or our colleagues at work? What does he want, Daddy? Why didn't you give him a dollar?
I've learned something over the last few years. And its focus became even more keen while in Costa Rica this year.
It began with a conversation I had with a missionary. It went something like this....
Bill: "A lot of people I know say this (translation: Here's what I think).
Bill: "You don't give money to a homeless guy because he'll just take it and go buy some Thunderbird, or a 40 oz. malt liquor. You should take him to the store and buy him some food."
Missionary: "Maybe he needs a beer."
Flippant? Yes. But those five words contain more truth than the response I've heard so often. Don't agree? Let me try to convince you of why the oft-repeated response to the homeless pleading for money is a smoke screen for much of what is wrong with the way you and I see the world.
First, let's be serious. The chances that you will stop what you're doing, pick up a homeless guy, take him to Kroger, and buy him a loaf of bread and a package of bologna, is about the same as Barack Obama screaming at the media. Not going to happen.
Second, Jesus said if you see someone who is hungry, feed them. Jesus did not say, drive by, judge their condition in about 1.3 seconds, and determine that they need a pint of whiskey instead of a sandwich, and dismiss them like a Baptist church on a hot Wednesday night. To judge their true need, you would have to actually meet and talk to them.
Third, if you give a homeless guy five bucks, there should be really nothing that matters less than the money itself. You are buying time, or at least you should be. Where else, may I ask, can you have a completely captive audience, to listen to you talk about Jesus Christ and his plan of salvation, at length, in its entirety? Where else is there someone who needs to hear it more than the one who has little self worth, little hope, and nowhere to call home?
Fourth, admit it. There's a part of you that hates to give money unless you get a tax receipt in return. And that smelly guy dressed in a 1999 NCAA championship T-shirt with God knows what smeared on it, who hasn't had a bath or a shave in weeks, months, or years, does not have a pocketful of receipts.
Fifth, you may be greedy. You may have so much of your money wrapped up in your home, your cars, and your investments, that it's hard to see giving away anything to anybody. After all, most polls, Christian and otherwise, say folks that identify themselves as evangelicals give 2-3% of their after-tax money for charity.
Sixth, like so many of us, we're much better at judging from a throne rather than being on the street getting our hands dirty. Sitting in churches and small groups and talking philosophically about giving and situational kindness is as close as we ever get to reality.
In certain parts of Costa Rica, there are mothers displaying crippled children asking for money, blind beggars with cups, severely handicapped men and women that makes it difficult to figure out what they are asking for, elderly beggars, adolescent beggars, toddler beggars, all approaching the rich American family.
I've prayed to God and asked him to forgive me for my judgmental spirit and sporadic kindness. I've tried to give most of the ones I see some money, and bless them with a handshake, a hug, and a word about Jesus. Some I have still walked by.
For those of you who think about things in this way, it's a cheap trade. A dollar or so for a conversation that could be life changing.
Maybe a few of you will pull your car aside the next time you see a homeless man or woman, take the time and learn their story and bless them with the transformational message of Jesus Christ. Yes, I know safety is a factor. But if you never take a chance in life, you'll never do anything valuable.
Who knows, they may discard what you say, and buy a six-pack, but what if they do? You have become part of their future faith story. You have done something valuable, you have got out of your car and cared for..."the least of these."
Think about it. Go.
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