It was a cold winter’s day that Sunday. The parking lot to the church was filling. A man sat on the steps with a long trench coat that was almost in shreds and a hat topped his head. It was pulled down so you could not see his face. He wore shoes that looked 30 years old, too small for his feet, with holes all over them, his toes stuck out. I assumed this man was homeless, and asleep, so I walked on by through the doors of the church. We all had fellowship for a few minutes, and someone brought up the man laying outside. People snickered and gossiped but no one bothered to ask him to come in, including me. A few moments later church began. We all waited for the preacher to take his place and to give us the Word, when the doors to the church opened. In came the homeless man walking down the aisle with his head down. People gasped and whispered and made faces. He made his way down the aisle and up onto the pulpit where he took off his hat and coat. My heart sank. There stood our preacher…he was the “homeless man.” No one said a word. The preacher took his bible and laid it on his stand. “Folks, I don’t think I have to tell you what I am preaching about today.”
This illustration came across my path years ago. I’m fairly certain I would have walked right past this “homeless” man. You?