It’s cold outside. But more so for “them” than me. Frankly, I write this from the warmth of my home and a Christmas movie on. I may even get up in a little bit from my chair and make some hot tea. But then again, I might not.
For years I thought of them as “them” and took the liberty to offer my thousands of reasons as to why “them” was lazy or whatever other reasons existed that they were down there.
Until I met some people who lived down there.
When this life transaction occurred, it was me that was given a thousand reasons as to why my reasons of judgement mattered not. These were real people with real stories.
Real people have real stories.
When one is in the presence of a real story, something happens. Even the coldest heart can’t fight back this sort of deep thaw that threatens to defrost the very selfishness that grips the judgement which is held from deep within.
This judgement is more about the judge than it is about those being judged. At least this is what a real story exposes.
One heartbeat to another.
Rarely a word needs to be spoken when walking past another soul curled up on a doorstep amidst an epic cold spell with only a thin blanket with teddy bear’s printed on it to ask yourself the question… who am I?
The same Hands made us both. Therefore, we are tied together within this big crazy world. I have seen, I am now responsible. I do not and should not need the government to mandate this redistribution of compassion.
This is God’s creation, shouldn’t that be enough?