Under the Overpass

from the mom

I joined a book group this year. I thought it would be good for me to get out once a month and talk to grown-ups. It has also been good to stretch me into reading some books I wouldn't normally pick up.

The first one we read was Under the Overpass. Mike was a Westmont College student when he felt convicted to live as a homeless person for five months. He formed a board of advisors (parents, professors, pastors) and found a co-traveler and set off to live in 6 different U.S. cities (Denver, Washington D.C., Portland, San Francisco, Phoenix, San Diego) with only the things he could carry in his backpack. He took no money, credit cards, etc....

This book was hard to read. I've worked with the homeless just enough to know that most are mentally ill/addicts. But as I have gotten older, I've gotten harder and the homeless have become "invisible" to me.

Mike tells many stories of churches and Christians failing to meet his needs and failing to care. Fortunately, there are other stories where people were there for him. He was living on the streets of D.C. when I was living in the northern Virginia suburbs and it is truly humbling to realize that I could have been among those who walked right past him discussing a Bible study or sermon when he was on the street hungry.

Near the end of the book, he comes out and advises against giving money to panhandlers. But less you think you are relieved of your guilt and off the hook, he suggests taking them out for a meal instead. He says that roughly three quarters of the homeless he met were drug/alcohol addicts who would use money for drugs or alcohol even as they were starving to death. But he urges that we remember they are REAL people and that we smile at them, recognize their humanity, and give out of our abundance in order to make a difference in their lives.

Reading this book took me back about five years to a real failure in my life. I was on business in New Jersey and stopped in Philadelphia for a few hours on my way home. I was walking through a park and spotted the saddest human being I have ever encountered. He was on a park bench, and bodily fluids were dripping out of him. He was hunched and frail and near death. I wanted to call an ambulance but I knew that there was nothing they would do. I felt very convicted at that moment that I was supposed to offer him a drink of water. That's all. A drink of water. Not take him home. Not give him $100. Just a drink of water.

And I kept walking. I was so repulsed. And the thought of getting near him, smelling him, touching him to help him drink, was too much. So I moved on. But I have never forgotten him. Nor the knowledge that I disobeyed a direct order from God. I've been forgiven, but I've never been given another chance. That man is long dead I'm sure.

Reading this book brought it all back. And gave me a lot to think about.