A few weeks ago I was guest preaching at a church about an hour up the interstate from my home. It was an easy drive. There’s not much traffic at dawn on a Sunday morning.
As I headed down the last stretch of road towards the church, I noticed a man riding a bicycle equipped with backpack and a milk crate attached to the front handlebars.
I didn’t think too much of it.
A minute later, I saw two more riding in the other direction. Then a fourth. By the time I reached the church, I had passed a half dozen. Bikes, backpacks, and homemade baskets. Homeless? Had to leave a shelter? On their way to work?
Who knows? It doesn’t matter. For many, I’m sure they were just part of the landscape. But I noticed them. On their way to somewhere. Coming from somewhere. Headed for something.
I often think of how infrequently my life intersects these lives. A whole world that I never see, never think of.
But that morning, they were there. In sight. I couldn’t ignore them.
And maybe that’s the point.
I shouldn’t ignore them. Drive by them. Look past them. Pretend they aren’t there. Live in my own little world.
I need to see them. Think about them. Think about who they are. Think about how they go to this moment. Think about how close I am to being one of them.
One bad decision. One disaster. One injury. One accident.
Life changes. And you are borrowing a bike. All your belongings in a backpack. No where to call home except the spot where you are.
I was driving a car. I have education. I had a job. I have a pension. I have a gig.
I have a bicycle. That’s my point of commonality. A milk crate. I had one. But not for a bike basket. Backpack. Yep. But not every day, with all my belongings.
You know what? I really wanted to stop and talk to one of these guys.
“Where are you coming from?”
“Where are you going?”
I need to get to know these guys and gals.
Waite for it... 