John Doe

Image is courtesy of pedrosimoes7 (a Flickr user)

For the sake of anonymity, we'll call him John.

He's almost a fixture in the community--part of the scenery--as familiar as the statue in the park. I first noticed him almost twenty years ago. He was a handsome young man and looked like he could have been successful before his life unraveled. Before drugs and alcohol took over.

His walk was brisk and his conversation was animated. He spoke to someone my eyes could not see.  I immediately thought of his worried mother. Did she know where he was? Or worse, what shape he was in?

Like dozens of others, I began earnestly praying for John.

File Photo Courtesy of InfiniteUnknown.net

Over the years his hair grew longer and became matted, his skin darkened and his eyes more averted.  He carried very little with him and was usually inappropriately dressed: shirt sleeves in rain, sweatshirt in snow and never a hat in the sun. He walked from one place to another--always walking as if he had some place important to go. 

If I had to guess, today he's in his early forties. He makes his home on the river bank. He's disoriented. He's dirty. His mind is gone and conversation with him is choppy at best. He's been showing up at the park on Friday's to get a meal. At first he stood off, distrustful. 

Sandie befriended him, earned his trust and began looking for him on the streets to give him food. A few times a week she finds him at their usual spot and unloads a bag of tacos or burgers. She's trying to get him off the streets before winter but he's afraid of the residents at the mission. 

One look at John and you are moved to tears. You want to wrap your arms around him because you're pretty sure he hasn't had a hug in forever. But you can't. He's infested with lice and besides, he'd likely not let you get close enough to touch him. 

John doesn't know how old he is or remember when his birthday is. John doesn't know if he has any other family. John just lives day to day in search of food and a safe place to be.

How did he end up like this? 

Grief. 

Raging, inconsolable grief.

John had a brother he dearly loved. They were in business together. One night a robber shot and killed his brother while John stepped out. His grief was intolerable and he turned to drugs. Drugs led him to the street and it's almost certain that the street will take his life. 

One day someone will say, "I haven't seen John in a few days." And then we will say, "Remember John?"

For now, we just love John where he's at. We don't have any unrealistic ideas about rehabilitation. We just feed him. We'll give him a tent and a sleeping bag for the cold months. We'll try to keep him warm with coats and gloves and hats. And mostly, we'll search for the opportunities to look in his eyes and tell him that we love him and that Jesus loves him and that his life matters.  And we'll pray for him.

And that will have to be enough. That's what we do. That's what Jesus asked us to do. 

Will you help us love the Johns...and Sams...and Tonys of Yakima?