Last night as I walked up and down High Street with a few cups of noodles and sauce to hand out with two friends we ran into a familiar face from the pantry on Monday nights. We stopped to talk for a bit and listen to the life of one of our brothers in Christ. He mentioned he had written a poem in the latest issue of "Street Speech the voice from the streets of Columbus."
It just so happened that my roommate while downtown last weekend purchased this issue. Once I returned to my heated home I turned to the page and read what he had written:
The Human Life
By Jeff Heath, Street Speech Vendor
In peace we wish to be,
peace in life we seek.
Never seem to find, but happy we seem.
Always in the fire's heat.
Während der Schmerz des Lebens, suchen wir lieben.
Was für ein Leben uns gegeben hat,
Wir alle versuchen, zurück zu geben.
In the life we choose to live,
in life, in death we suffer.
What we seek eludes,
What we get makes us tougher.
Given peace, given happiness,
would we accept it, or want more?
Mankind, always wanting more,
we are all inside torn,
This is our human way.
Give us trials.
We must learn to live happy.
Learn to walk life's miles.
I am astonished at the wisdom of a 20 year old homeless poet.
As we continued to walk the cold dark noisy street of Columbus I couldn't stop thinking about how cold I was and the idea of sleeping outside whether it be in a tent at one of the homeless camps or on a stoop seemed incomprehensible. Jesus, this is not our home. This isn't the way it is suppose to be. This world is gushing with hurt and brokenness.
"We are all inside torn, this is our human way." Hurt people hurting people. Jeff is correct, this is our human way. But this isn't Your way. Your love is so pure and holy. Trying to express it to a homeless person in a McDonald's at 11:00pm is impossible. Toni, his whole life the only thing he has experienced is brokenness. To tell a man like Toni that there is a God who sees him and loves him isn't simple. Easy for a wealthy suburbanite like myself to talk of a loving God look how much you've blessed me. My words of Your love and truth carry about as much weight to a homeless person as the soft pillow I rest my warm head on each night. How am I suppose to show Your love to Your children who are so torn by this world that they no longer have hope?
To have the world kick you while your down for years and years never letting you up for air, how did You manage to hold on to the truth of Your Father's love? How do I teach my brothers and sisters to dig their roots into Your foundation? I am just as broken as they are.
The broken leading the broken.
Satan tells me our efforts to show Your love on a January night with a few cups of noodles is like a drop in the ocean. Get him off my back.
What do You want me to do with this life You've given me?
How do I express the love You've shown me to my broken brothers and sisters?
My heart longs to worship You my King
And I long to bring You a pleasing offering
And I am overwhelmed
And I am lost for words
To describe You
More than a friend - Jeremy Riddle