Can the homeless be picky?

On Tuesday night I had an interesting encounter that not only made me laugh but also seriously question my heart and how my actions do (or don't) show Jesus.

I was driving down Wedgewood towards my Bible Study and I came to 12th Avenue. This part of 12th can be shady and generally I try not to stop at the gas station or be around there too late at night. I looked over and saw a man in a wheelchair who I assumed to be homeless. My heart instantly softened when I thought about how cold it was and how blessed I was to be in my warm car. My first thought was to pick him up and drive him to a shelter. Words of advice from friends (many many friends) halted that thought and begged me to try again. My next thought was to buy him coffee. It then occurred to me that he probably hadn't eaten in awhile, so I should just grab a hot meal for him. I pull up to the drive through at Mrs. Winners (keep in mind I have never been here before) and ask if they have some sort of Chicken sandwich thing. I can't understand the woman but she recommends something so I tell her that's fine and ask for a large coffee. "We don't have coffee at this time." I check my watch, three minutes until eight pm. What in the world? Why wouldn't they have coffee? "Fine... just give me... uh?? a Coke?" I grab the food and drive back to the corner where I saw the man. I'm secretly hoping he won't be there so I don't have to actually face him. I pull into the gas station and pull as close to the man as I can without driving on the grass. I lock my car and walk over to the man. My heart is pounding and my palms are slightly sweaty. I'm sending up numerous silent prayers begging the Lord to keep me safe and for the food to be met with happiness not awkwardness. I approach timidly but confidently and ask him if he's hungry. He flashes a decayed toothy smile at me and says he is. I awkwardly offer the chicken and tell him it isn't much but I thought it might help. He is overcome. I then start to ramble about the whole coffee fiasco and I was sorry it wasn't something warm to drink but I have a coke instead. He looks at me and says, "Oh! I don't drink Coke. I don't drink any carbonated beverages." This stops me in my tracks. What?! A homeless man is being PICKY? He's HOMELESS! He might not get another meal for who knows how long. I scramble trying to not let my shock be seen but as most of you know, my face basically reveals whatever emotion I'm feeling regardless of how hard I try to stop it. I start to leave desperate to get out of the awkward situation and realizing that I'm not exactly safe, standing on the corner of Wedgewood and 12th with my purse in my car. He reaches out his hand to me and says, "God bless you... I'm Tom." I briefly saw his hand and saw numerous sores and other spots I couldn't identify. My first reaction was repulsion, but thanks to basic etiquette (Thanks Mom!!) I shake his hand, tell him my name, smile and wish him a good night. I wanted to scrub my hand like a child does after they think they have been exposed to "cooties." Instantly my heart was convicted.
"Rachel, he is my Child. What makes him any different than you?"

Oh Crap.

"Lord, he probably has some sort of disease!! I don't want to get a flesh eating bacteria and have my hand fall off!!"

"Daughter, he is precious in My sight. Did I not touch the lepers, embrace the outcasts, and give sight to those the world rejected? Am I not bigger than his 'flesh eating bacteria'? His external disease is a picture of your soul before I made you clean. I came to give him life and save Him, just as I did for you."

I was so ashamed of myself. Amazing how my pride in doing something "good" became a way for the Lord to reveal the flesh eating bacteria in my soul. I always thought myself compassionate of those in need and became enraged when I felt they were being treated as 'less' of a person because of xy or z.


Funny how the Lord reveals sin that you didn't even know you had through the most obvious ways.