Thoughts on Downtown-3/17/2013

"As he (Jesus) came near and saw the city (Jerusalem), he wept over it." --Luke 19:41  

This passage describes Jesus' emotions as he enters the city of Jerusalem on what we call Palm Sunday, also known as the 'triumphal entry'.  Luke is the only gospel writer who records this.  While the disciples and the crowd are rejoicing, Jesus weeps.  This is only the second time in scripture where it says that Jesus wept.  The other time was with Mary and Martha on the death of their brother Lazarus.

I started reading a book yesterday about a woman who decided to join the nunnery.  On her first day at the convent for 'aspirants' she passed by a crucifix that had the words "I thirst" posted by Jesus' head.  When I read that I thought of the scripture above where Jesus wept.  It was the topic of Sunday's message at church.  Somehow the two phrases collided in my mind.  I had made a trip downtown two Sunday's ago but didn't have the time to write about the trip.  This Sunday I didn't go.  I spent Sunday with my Mother.  One of my brothers passed away the week before and the memorial service was fresh in our minds.  I began thinking of the times I returned from a trip downtown and wept over the deperate situations I have found people in.  I can never forget Willie telling me in a barely audible whisper, "I'm hungry and thirsty."  On three different occasions I've had people kiss my hand because they were so thankful to receive the help I'd given them.  I won't forget the woman in a wheelchair who, along with her husband, were evicted from their apartment because they couldn't pay the rent after he lost his job.  To make matters worse, two weeks later I saw her again and she said her husband and left and she didn't know where he was.  Yes, I couldn't help but weep when I got home and thought about that one.  Such heartbreak and tragedy is difficult to witness and even more difficult for these people to endure.  All I can do, is bring comfort where I can.  I am unable to permanently change their situations, but I can alleviate the loneliness and physical discomfort at least temporarily.  And I can keep coming back! 

A couple of years ago my wife and I were returning home from San Fernando valley at night time.  We drove passed the downtown area on Hwy 101.  As I looked at the beautiful night skyline I realized that the city was barely recognizable from the view I usually have at ground level.  Here at night, the lights in the tall skyscrapers cast an amazing view.  I realized that every encounter I've had in the nearly four years of making these trips occurs in the daytime shadows of these buildings.  Down in the dirt and fowl air beneath these buildings the lives of too many people scratch out an existance each day.  Hopes have long ago vanished replaced by the most immediate of desires.  Pretty much the vices and habits of the world at large play out among men and women living on the turf beneath these buildings each day.  Yet, I have had the privilege to give smiles to so many.  I praise God that he gave me a heart for these people.  You can't imagine the joy on the face of someone who receives a warm blanket in the middle of winter, or food when they haven't eaten in a couple of days.  A bottle of cold water on a hot day is priceless to these people.  Even a simple, "Hi, my name is John, what's your name?" will generally evoke a warm response.  One man on a hot summer afternoon thanked me for just talking to him.  He appreciated the food and water, but he was most thankful for me just taking the time to talk with him and not being in a hurry to move on.  Incredible what simple acts of kindness can mean to someone.  Mother Theresa was right when she said, "Not all of us can do great things.  But we can to small things with great love." 

Years ago, I began praying for God to give me His heart for the lost.  It has been a remarkable journey and one I pray doesn't end anytime soon.  On my last trip I gave food to a couple sitting on the steps of a building about a half a block down from a burned-out church (yes, literally burned-out).  It was close to dark.  I don't know if they had eaten recently or not, they didn't speak English.  But I do know the man was happy to receive the food and water and his wife was smiling from the steps behind him when he came over to the car.  At least they knew they could keep going for another day.  Sometimes, that's all we need ask for, the grace to make it through one more day.  As I go through this season of grieving it's all I can ask for too. --Until next time.  John