It happened again...

Tonight, driving in Indianapolis, it happened again:

This time, our car full of professor and three students was approached by a thin, desperate-looking woman at a red light, begging someone, anyone, in plaintive, deadened tones to “Help me out, will you?” with her hand extended as she wound her way through the cars that stood still at the light.

Of course we didn’t.

Of course no one did.

You don’t open your window in the middle of a dark inner-city night to hand money to a strange, filthy woman outside. You lock your doors and keep driving. And you certainly never make eye contact.

Linette said that the hard part is that… looking at the woman, standing as a vague, hungry-looking silhouette in the middle of halted traffic that glowed dimly in the rosy traffic-light wash, you can’t see her story. You don’t know how she became who she is.

Does that matter? Jesus saw the outcasts- the lepers, the woman at the well. He did see their pasts, but that didn’t seem to matter as much. What he saw and acted on was who they were at that moment– both their immediate needs AND the people they were meant to become. And then he took care of both. Even at risk to himself.

“Lady, I’ll pray for you.” Is that the best we can do?

Why do I keep seeing this? Why does this keep happening to me?
Maybe God’s trying to tell or show me something…