I had the day off today, ironically, I still found myself at work doing employment classes. When I left, I took the bus ( because its free and goes right by my house :) not to mention the gas savings) and get to the transfer station only to find security holding a drunk man up against the wall. Now it is at this point that I remove the earbuds from my ears to eavesdrop on the situation while I wait for my connecting bus.
It would be pointless to describe the race of the man pinned to the wall, but for the sake of this post, i'll mention he was an Alaskan native. Where I live, we struggle with the "chronic inebriates" that the Daily News Miner (our local paper) has recently dubbed our local drunk population. I lived downtown for a couple years and I regret to say, the eyes begin to see past, the ears begin to block out and the mouth gets harder alongside the heart towards the inebriate population. It's also unfortunate to admit that the majority of the population happen to be Alaska natives. (not to offend my beautiful friends of Alaska that are indeed native).
The blue line pulls up as the security men convince the pinned man to enter the drunk tank van parked around back- and I change the song in my iPod. During the ride on my connecting bus, the people in front of me are currently discussing whose joint smells better and what would be the fairest trade of such products. The younger man's joint wins in the end and a trade of said joint and suspicious looking pill is traded wherein they commence joking and regaling each other with stories of nights barely remembered and fights lost on the weekend. I turn my iPod up.
It is then at that moment when I see how much I don't care about my people. Fairbanks is my home, the bus travelers my brothers, the man pinned to the wall, my uncle and the "chronic inebriates" my cousins. These are my people and I am dead with hopelessness on how to help. The thing is, sometimes, the problem is so overwhelming that the answer is nowhere in sight. The problem so big, that it's easier to turn up the iPod then take it out and join the conversation. I do not like feeling helpless, and I don't know how god can change something so desolate- but his word says he can, therefore I know it is possible. Could it be that people like me need to turn down their iPods and help?
I want to be a missionary, and I am ashamed at who I am. Jesus did not come to heal the healthy but the sick, but how will anyone know the power of Jesus of they have not heard? And most importantly, how will they hear when I cannot - no- will not turn down my iPod and open my ears and refocus my eyes?
I am only changed by his grace. Maybe the people I ride the bus with could be to. There are no lost causes.
His beloved
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