Watching the homeless walk by — “Lord, send me some help!”

​This morning, since sunrise, I have been sitting by my front window, the street and sidewalks just outside—and have watched at least a dozen folks walk by, bundled up with oversized coats of the Goodwill or thrown-out varieties; every one with a small blanket or some clothe around their necks; their possessions tied up or bagged about them; not moving fast, at a very slow pace—homeless, having survived a cold, very wet over night somewhere outside.

This is one of the hardest things pastoring here in the Hill. For. Me. To. See. Over and over and over right out front of my Hill apartment.

​While there are some warming centers and over-night winter shelters, not all homeless trust them or have the capacity to“bunk” together and/or have so many other barriers to even be accepting someplace warm for an overnight on a very cold, pouring, rainy night.

These are the very forgotten elect—some among them, only God knows . . .

“Father, save them, give them hope and eternal life, give them a safe night somewhere . . . send me help to reach them, to serve them . . . 7 days a week . . . the burden comes in that we only do (only can do, really) one hot meal a week outside on the sidewalk (on Saturdays) . . . and only one time a week, some hot coffee on the sidewalk (on Wednesdays) . . .

“God turn this into something . . . wake up your workers, they're late. These folks are cold and they are lost.”

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