First, Do No Harm

I walked over to talk to a woman that Angie was already talking to at the gospel mission. She looked homeless in her layers of clothing, and heavy tweed overcoat, long grey hair, and small cart full of knick knacks of things. Her face looked like a man, too, and at first it threw me off that this woman had a moustache and such masculine features. It threw me off in the sense that at first I wondered if I got it wrong; it's disorienting not to be able to place someone's gender right away.

She didn't talk long. I think she pegged us for Christian do-gooders, and she probably pegged us right. Not that our motives weren't good ones, they were. But when you're homeless I don't imagine that good motives count for squat. She talked about how sick she was of Christians trying to convert her to Christianity, and she almost spit out words about how she doesn't need it, doesn't want it, and was raised in a Christian home and knows what it's all about. The thing is I don't think she knows what it's all about if all of her reactions are negative ones. Unfortunately somehow she must not be hearing from anyone about Christ's incredible love and passion for us. I had sat through the same mandatory bible study that she did, so I know how boring the pastor was who delivered the message. Boring and off the mark. Boring and embarrassing in ways, like when he talked about how he wouldn't buy a Cadillac because it wouldn't look right as a pastor. I don't imagine homeless people care to hear about someone buying a car, or trying to sound humble because they could have bought a Cadillac and didn't.

I wish I'd thought fast enough and told that woman, "Yeah, sometimes we really suck, we Christians." Because sometimes we really do. "Here, let me take my religion and shove it down your throat because I need to save you really fast so you don't go to hell."

I wish I could have apologized for all the sucky Christians she's encountered. I wish I could have said it that way about how we suck sometimes because maybe it would have made her laugh, and laughter can be a huge blessing. I wish I could have given love, offered repentance for wrongs done in the name of our faith, and showed her just a tiny glimpse of Christ.

As it was, all I thought to say was, "At least you're honest about your feelings about Christianity," and she said rather bitterly, "Yeah, but do you think they care?" And I said, "I think they should."

But what I said wasn't enough. Was it something? Probably not. But maybe next time.