It was winter and he was living outside. He was chilled to the bone even when the wind didn’t blow. The two women he loved most in his life, both lost the war against cancer. An only child, and now he was alone. He drank to forget but that didn’t help so he smoked crack cocaine and he fell deeper and deeper into depression and isolation.

Walking through Richmond, I noticed a woman sitting on a low wall watching me approach. “Got any money?”, she asked with a shameless smile. “What do you want with money?, I replied. “Need to get a cup of coffee and something to eat.”

I fumbled in my bag….DVD’s, phone, rock, a small bag of almonds and raisins but no cash. I always carry twenty one dollar bills in a small pouch to share as I can with folks along the way. It always freaks them out to have a “holy man” give them money. I think most folks have the idea that you give to “church” people but they don’t give to you. I looked around but couldn’t find the cash; must have left it in the RV, I thought. I offered Marie my snack of almonds and raisins but she politely refused.

Walking down route one, I turned onto Azalea St. and made my way to Chamberlayne. I hear a loud angry voice behind me but didn’t know if someone was calling me or just shouting. I walked to the corner, crossed halfway across the street and heard the angry voice getting closer. The traffic light had changed and I was stranded on the island in the middle of the street with traffic coming. I turned around to face “the voice” and I saw an unstable gentleman with matted dreadlocks, a multicolored beret style chapeau and a four foot long piece of PVC pipe heading my way.

He joined me on the island and asked me what I was doing. When I shared I was walking for Christ, his response was a loud and angry “BULLSH*T!” He then informed me he was a Muslim (a fact I’m not sure that they would be happy about) and then said “ALLAH!” several times. The light changed and we walked across the street together. I thought he was going straight and I was turning but as the second light changed, my friend went with me. I asked Willie why he was so angry and he went on a tirade about white people and the government. This was the first time I was glad to have a dark tan.

I told him people were people; some good some bad. I shared that I knew good black people and bad black people; good whites and nasty whites. Oddly, he agreed and told me of how he was very drunk one day and dropped his wallet containing $25.00. Three white women were following him, picked up his wallet and returned to him money intact. He was very surprised and touched by that.

He asked me if I wanted to go with him and get a beer. I said “I don’t do that any more.” He laughed. “Any more? That’s funny.” He asked me what changed me and I told him Christ. He just looked at me. As we continued to talk, I realized that Willie’s mental capacity was severely damaged by his lifestyle. He was not a man you could reason with but he was a man who you could plant seeds into.

Willie spoke of his wife very tenderly. He took care of her, he said. I wondered about their life and how they came down this road. I could see that beneath his cursing and anger was a heart that deeply cared for a woman. “I don’t know what I would do without her” he said. His demeanor was calm and serious. I wanted to dwell on his goodness at this moment so I said, “We know you’re a good man, Willie.” “WHOSE WE? He yelled.
“You and I, Willie. You and I” I replied half-laughing. He smiled.

He took my hand. “I’ve got to get back to my wife. She’s down there.” He said pointing south. I said “No, Willie, you have to up that street. That’s where I met you.” He held onto my hand and then we hugged. “Love ya, Willie.” I whispered…don’t know if he heard me. He zig-zagged across the street, waving his PVC pipe and shouting things I couldn’t understand.

I hadn’t gone far when I briefly encountered another man of the streets begging on an island between traffic. He, like Marie, asked me for money and again all I could offer was almonds and raisins. He was hungry; he took them.

I wonder about people; the roads we travel, the choices we make. What happens? I envisioned all three of these people as toddlers and then a great wave of sadness overcame me. It seems to be the way of the world; the way it’s always been…even in America. There are some you can help, some who can’t receive help and some who don’t want to be helped. So what are we, as Christians, to do?

“My mother died in 2005 and since that time it seems my siblings can’t get along with each other. My father is still with us and I want us to become close again but I don’t know what else to do.” Joanna was beginning to get emotional.

Here we were on the street: a little 4’8″ bald headed white guy dressed funny and a 5’10″ heavy-set black woman hugging each other as cars whizzed by and people looked on. Neither one of us cared a lick. I knew Christ, she knew Christ but more importantly…He knows us.

I love to pray for people as I walk; so many people and so many different issues. Some ask for healing of their grandpa from cancer, others ask for a touch of God upon their handicapped child. I always feel a twinge of sadness in my heart and a certain sense of gratitude as I quietly thank God that those problems aren’t afflicting my family.

This prayer request was different though. This one touched me and troubled me. It touched me because my own family is fragmented. It troubled me because family divisiveness is avoidable and correctable. Conflict in the family is almost always a matter of pride. We don’t understand each other and we’re too proud to ask for clarification. We have expectations that are never expressed and yet when they’re not met…we’re hurt. We have unrealistic views of what a family should look like and how “it” should act.

Friends are people we choose to have in our life. Family are people who are involved in our life through adoption, birth or marriage. Once you’re family…you’re family forever. Surely, we can put aside our pride for a moment and get along to share a meal or a holiday. Surely, we can pray that God bless our family (even the ones who push our buttons) with His best. If we can’t stand to be with “that woman” for an hour, surely we could be nice for twenty minutes and casually her presence.

God whispered to me as I walked today, “Nick, make an effort to be your best, regardless of response. Time is fleeting and life is precious.”

Speed is matter of perception. A hundred miles an hours is a fast clip for a car but is very slow for a commercial aircraft. Ten miles an hour is a pace that just might win a marathon but will finish dead last in a sprint.

“Where are you going?”

Ecclesiastes 1:9 tells us that there is nothing new under the sun. Thousands of years have passed since that was written and many “outside” things…clothes, architecture, modes of transportation… have changed….but people, well, we’re pretty much the way we were in the days of Solomon.

As we travel, we have met people who have endured the suicide of a spouse, the sudden death of a child, those who have battled sexual misconduct and others who have served time in prison. We have encountered addicts that are clean and those who cannot or will not get clean.

There have been families split apart because of misunderstanding and marriages wrecked because of financial pressure. We have met people who take all they can get and others who give without any thought of getting. We pray for them and with them without seeing any physical evidence that anything has changed. Sometimes we are tempted to get discouraged but then we remember… “faith comes by hearing” and then we remember: we are traveling America doing our best to plant seeds of faith by telling people about Almighty God.

As human beings, we don’t know what is going on in anyone’s heart or mind. We don’t know what to say to encourage them or lighten their load but the Holy Spirit does. So all any of us can do is ask the Holy Spirit to allow us to be a blessing to the person we are about to talk with.

Prayer doesn’t always change circumstances but we do know that prayer always changes people. Changed people move from the fear of society who criticizes them to faith in a God who loves them.

Lord, please let those we talk with today hear Your voice and invite You into their life. Help them to understand that You love them and that what they do with their life matters.

Nothing works outs as planned. In a week’s time, we should have walked from Lynchburg to Charlottesville. Instead a week passed and we were still in Lynchburg!