The Face at my Car Window

Today I saw him again, for maybe the thousandth time. I dreaded the approach to the intersection, as I usually do. This time it was a man, disheveled and dirty, dressed in a ragged coat, holding the (usual) cardboard sign, "HUNGRY". My usual response is (a) lock my car door if it's not already locked and (b) avoid eye contact, at all costs. I help people in need by giving my money, but I do not give handouts. I just don't. Only every time this happens I have to wonder, "What would Jesus do?" I feel ashamed for looking down into my lap, my well groomed hands resting on my beautiful clothes, my wallet full of credit cards and cash. I have often wondered, "what if that is Jesus, there, and I have just now shunned Him?".

So today I did something I never do. I opened my wallet, and I gave him several dollars. I looked him in the eye, and he thanked me. He looked into me, too. I felt as though I had really been seen. He mumbled, "God bless you" and I went on my way. Tears welled up in my eyes, because this time, I thought, "What if that had been Jesus?" At least he could go buy himself a burger.

I resolved to give what I have to the need that presents itself in front of me. I don't know to what purpose those four dollars went. I don't really care. He needed them for something, and I needed to give.