Rough

The walk through New York’s Chinatown is always interesting; colorful stores, incredible foods on display, and people chatting in a myriad of languages.  As we meandered through the streets on the way home from a great meal the unfolding experience was right on course, until we walked east on Hester from Elizabeth.  On the north side of the street, buried in an alcove, tucked in a layer of blankets at 7:30 in the evening, was a homeless man.  You could barely see his black afro over the edge of the blanket.  As we walked by, my eyes caught his.  The despair in his heart was clear to see and feel. 
 
He didn’t ask me or anyone else for anything.  It was almost as if he was accepting the worst life could through at him.  There was no fight left.  There was little hope hanging around.  Life was and is rough.  It was going to be a long, cold, and wet night.
 
I wonder if I appreciate how rough things can be, regardless.  When the question is asked, “why would you ever complain, O Jacob, or, whine, Israel, saying, ‘God has lost track of me.  He doesn't care what happens to me?’  Don't you know anything?  Haven't you been listening?  God doesn't come and go.  God lasts.  He's Creator of all you can see or imagine.  He doesn't get tired out, doesn't pause to catch his breath.  And he knows everything, inside and out.”  (Isaiah 40.27, 28)  I know I have no right to complain.  I understand I am fortunate.  I know God calls me to do something for those around me.
 
I can offer hope and a smile in every circumstance.
I can pray for the presence and knowledge of the Spirit.
I can reach out in tangible ways to be God’s hand, voice, and at times Spirit.
 
Life is difficult – for the rich and the poor, for the powerful and the weak, and for those who know God and those still struggling to catch a sight of Divinity.  God is here.  God cares.  God engaged.