Zach

I was walking around downtown Indianapolis, I came up to this street corner and there was this kid there with a sign asking for food and help, "God bless." He was young and white and didn't look homeless. I started a conversation. I gave what I could, I don't give money to homeless people ever, but I gave him my food. Tried to help. Prayed over him. 19 years old. He was white, young, thoughtful, used to being rich.

I saw myself in this kid. But I didn't see myself in the old black man I passed by a minute before I stopped to talk to Zach. God ordained that I would meet Zach. I was supposed to be on a bus, but that didn't work out. But was I supposed to meet that black man? He had a story too. He had something to teach me and give me. But I didn't see myself in him, and that troubles me deeply. Ironically, working in an inner-city African-American community has probably created stereotypes, racism, and fears that I didn't have before.

Can you see yourself in the person across from you? Are their dreams as important as yours? Their insights as valid? Are you even willing to listen? I went to this conference on orphans last week, and it was very sad to me that most couples place the greatest value on infants. They are cuter, less problematic, less broken than Fatherless teens or even schoolchildren. A director of an Eastern European orphanage remarked that the "baby room" is the nicest room in the place, because once they leave it, they probably won't find a family.

I realize that despite experience to the contrary, I don't value kids with special needs. Even though this 12 year old girl who taught me a song in Mexico, and the girls at that shelter taught me to sing, I don't see myself in them. I don't see how I could relate. I am guilty of the same thing when it comes to older church members. I wish they would reach out to me, because I don't see how to bridge the gap. But all of these, even the least of these, is made in the image of God. God, help my unbelief.