We saw him from two city blocks away. The tall, gangly, slender man sat on a retaining wall that bordered a small plaza along Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, DC. His head wobbled. He flailed his arms about so wildly they didn’t even appear to have bones in them. His face was contorted, and his tongue darted in and out of his mouth like a snake. His eyes looked everywhere and nowhere all at the same time.
The youth who were with me bringing food to homeless people in the area were spellbound by him and were confused about what to do. Should they approach him? What would they say? They talked nervously among themselves as we drew closer to him.
Finally one of them asked me what they should do.
“Give him a sandwich,” I said. “But show it to him first.”
The man continued his gyrations, but his eyes showed a glimmer of lucidity as we crossed the side street and began walking in his direction. Three brave teens broke from the group and approached him tentatively as they held out a sandwich.
“Would… would you like a sandwich?” one of them asked.
The man’s eyes locked on the sandwich. With startling speed he dropped his arms, pulled his tongue back in his mouth, smiled and said, “Thank you.”
He looked at the group of youth, making eye contact with most of them. They looked at him and drew closer. I stood back as he ate his sandwich and spoke with the teens for 5 or 10 minutes. I didn’t hear what they said and didn’t need to. This was their moment of discovery. Things aren’t always as they seem.
They gave him another sandwich, said goodbye, and we headed down the street to serve other people. On the way back we looked over at the retaining wall and there he was, arms flailing, head wagging, tongue jumping.
Did he have a mental illness, or had he been hurt so often that he figured out how to keep people away from him? I guess we’ll never know the answer to that.
But we do know this. He responded to love.
He dropped his façade when somebody cared enough to break into his world, offering him something and asking nothing in return. For at least that moment in his life he stepped out of the safe place he had created in his mind and took a chance on connecting with other people.
That’s what the love of Jesus does. It breaks down walls. It pulls people outside of themselves and into a moment of discovery that maybe – just maybe – there is something better. May God grant us the power to share that love with our world.
God’s grace to you,
Steve Jennings