Last night, after a long day of construction in the sun, I took some time and visited one of my favorite spots in El Paso to relax and regroup – Kinley’s House of Coffee and Tea. As I sat on the patio watching the sun go down over the Franklin Mountains, I thought about the people of the area and the desperation and hopelessness that many of them experience as a part of daily life. Over the course of the hour or so that I sat there, I was approached by three different men who live on the street, asking for money or cigarettes. One of the gentleman had perfected his approach allowing his personality to come through joking with the folks on the patio. One of the other men asked first for a cigarette but since I don’t smoke, he then asked for change and the third simply asked for a little money.
The three men had one thing in common – very little hope. I helped one of the men but not all three. I left there unable to get the look of the third man out of my mind. He was worn and broken with skin that showed his time in the sun. His eyes were hollow and faded by defeat.
I have to admit, I am haunted today by his desperation and hopelessness. I am overwhelmed by the immense need of the people of this area. But I thank God that I am affected in this way. May we never grow so accustomed to the plight of the poor that it no longer bothers us.
We live in an imbalanced world. The very fact that I am able to sit at my computer and type these words, and in turn, you can sit at yours and read them illustrates the fact that we are in a different class. I pray that God bothers you today by this fact.
I could offer some suggestions for how to deal with this imbalance – but I want you to wrestle with it today, and then offer some comments here as to what God puts on your heart.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Clay in the Hands 
Several years ago when my husband and I were in Praque, Czech Republic. We were walking through the streets of this old city and we encountered an elderly man begging for money. But his posture affected me and still haunts me.
He was laying prostrate on the sidewalk with his face to the ground, his arms outstretched above his head and his hands were cupped together.
In America I’d never encountered this act of complete humility and desperation before.
Last Christmas my husband and our 2 young adult sons took a small tent, sleeping bag, blanket, duffel bag, coat, flash light, and a meal to a homeless man we know only as Roger. He lives in a wooded field near our town. He had been sleeping on the cold wet ground and the supplies we gave kept him kept him from being as cold and wet.
We have a homeless shelter in our town; but the people are only allowed to stay for a few days and then must go.
We don’t know Roger’s story of how he came to be homeless. My husband has gotten to know this man, he does not drink alcohol and he keeps his living area clean and picked up.
This year our town has a new ministry, Church Under the Bridge. There is literally a group of people that are meeting under a bridge for worship on Sunday mornings.
Thank you.