About two months ago, I was at Church Under the Bridge with my small group. I play the harmonica in the band there, and the group buys a ton of pizza for all the homeless folks who show up to the service. There are usually anywhere between 50 to 150 people who show up to get some coffee, hear some encouraging words, and get some food. After the service this particular night, I noticed a young guy - probably twenty-three years old - who was talking to one of the guys in the band. Being around the homeless is very much a surreal event for me, because it's so hard to let go all of my attachments to life as I know it in order to see life as they know it. It's a continuous struggle to see eye to eye and to not just show up to be the hero who serves the homeless. My heart knows that I am no different, but nevertheless there's something inside me that resists the idea of letting myself be a friend, and not just a server.
However, something stuck me about this dude. For one, he was the youngest guy in the crowd. Secondly, he was able to carry a sensible conversation. When he finished talking with my buddy, he approached me and introduced himself. I can't remember his name, but I was interested in finding out more about him. I wasn't used to homeless men initiating the conversations. He had a backpack, wore blue jeans, glasses, and a good vocabulary. He seemed like a person I could very well run into at school. As everybody was getting in their cars to leave, I asked him, "Can I give you a ride home?"
He said, "Sure. Nobody's ever asked to do that."
We got into the car, and as usual Kristen - my girlfriend - begins asking the questions. I don't ask many questions. I've always been more about being present with someone and listening than being the questioner. Anyhow, as they talk I interject every once in awhile to make sure I'm going the right way.
"Yeah, keep going straight," he directs.
After driving for fifteen minutes, we arrive at the edge of Buffalo Bayou. I can't find a parking spot, so I take the handicap space. It's the only one open at the time. I have one question for the guy, but I'm nervous about asking him. So, I get out of the car and smoke a cigarette with him, which is always a nice icebreaker. I finally get the courage to ask him, "I know this sounds really weird, but, can I go see where you live?"
He looks at me for a moment, and I can tell he is thinking deeply about the question. After a few seconds of deliberation, he looks up at me and says, "Yeah. It's a pretty good walk though."
I peek my head back into the car and let Kristen know what we're doing. She doesn't like the idea at all, which is probably why I didn't ask him the question while we were in the car. After considering her reasoning, I decide that it'd be best to postpone this opportunity for another night. I let him know that I won't be joining him tonight, but that I'd love to the next time I see him.
Even though I didn't end up getting to see where this guy put his head at night, there was a very valid question inside of me that needed to be answered. Are you like me? I wanted to know that the guy laid his head down on a pillow just like I do, that he had a blanket like I do, and that he found rest like I do. It's common for me to go through a whole night of Church Under the Bridge with the mindset of these folks aren't like me. There's something innately human about dwelling places. We all sleep and we all wake up somewhere. I wanted to find some semblance with my homeless friend.
In the passage for Lent today, we are told that John the Baptist sees Jesus walking nearby and says, "Here he is, God's Passover Lamb." There are two disciples with John. When they here his declaration, they are intrigued and go to meet Jesus. As soon as they approach him, they ask a question that seems very odd the first time through. They ask, "Where are you staying?" Essentially, they want to see for themselves where he lays his head. They want proof that he is like them. We're not told the details of where Jesus was staying, but we're told that once Andrew (one of the disciples) confirmed that Jesus was staying somewhere, he immediately ran to get his brother Simon - who gets renamed Peter.
I believe as Andrew was following Jesus to the place he was staying, he was asking himself, Are you like me Jesus? Although there is something very divine about this fellow Jesus, Andrew knows there has to be a humanness to him as well. That is what he's after, possibly more than anything else, which begs the question, "How do we find the humanness of Jesus?" He's not with us like we was with Andrew. Yet, we have this question continually reverberating in our heart. Are you like me Jesus?
As we go out today, may we constantly be on the lookout for the dwelling places of Jesus. Every conversation, every event, may we look for the humanity of Jesus. As we observe this third day of Lent, may we reflect on the ever-searching question that lingers through every prayer, interaction, and community gathering: Are you like me Jesus? Amen
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