Last Friday
Gracie and I flew to San Francisco to visit friends and speak in a church. From
the airport we made our way to the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) and took the
light rail into the city. Once comfortably installed in our seats I pulled out
my laptop and started working on a talk for the next day on reading the Bible
for personal and social transformation.
A young man
started shouting loudly further up the train, a common occurrence in subways in
Paris where I’d been a few weeks earlier. Vagabond performers often board the
metro with a short act and make rounds with a hat for donations. Homeless
people or gypsies regularly beg, sometimes after some kind of speech—and people
mostly ignore them. I was able to tune the voice out so as to concentrate on my
presentation. Other passengers had their faces in newspapers or books. Most had
ear buds securely in place to shut out the distracting sounds.
The voice
was getting louder and increasingly agitated but very articulate. It broke
through my concentration in blasts, disrupting my focus:
“Look at
all of you, hiding behind your laptops and newspapers, shutting me out with
your ear buds and iPhones. Why can’t you just acknowledge me by looking at me? I
am not going away, and neither are the 10,000 other homeless people here in San
Francisco who suffer on the streets. All of the homeless shelters are filled
and I have no place to sleep tonight.“
His voice
grew shriller and more hostile as he made his way down train towards us. I
could feel other passengers discomfort and annoyance. I found myself wondering for
a moment what I’d do if he got right in my face. I even pondered whether he might
be the type who could pull out a gun. At this point I hadn’t even looked over
at him but was still buried in my laptop, using my café-sitting skills to tune
him out.
“Do you
realize how painful it is to be homeless and have people ignore you like you
don’t even exist?” He continued like a prophet, piercing through my defenses.
“It hurts
to be treated like you’re invisible. I am a person just like you people. But look, right now not one of you will
even look up and make eye contact with me. Can’t somebody simply acknowledge my
existence?”
Suddenly I
felt compelled to close my laptop and respond to him in some way. I got up and
made my way over to him as he stood in the closed doorway of the moving train,
nearing the end of his tirade. When he stopped I tapped him on the shoulder and
spoke:
“Sir, I
want you to know that I am listening to you and am deeply moved by what you are
saying. I am sad that you feel so ignored and rejected and can see that you are
in a lot of pain. You are getting through to me and I want to thank you for
sharing your feelings.”
He looked
up stunned and said: “Whoa, I’m not used to anyone responding to me. Nobody
ever does this man.”
“What’s
your name?” I asked. “Sean” which he pronounced seen. I then told him that God notices him all the time and
knows his pain. I asked him if I could pray a prayer of blessing over him.
“Yeah, you
can pray for me,” he said. “But would you be willing to help me out with a meal
first?” he asked.
“Gladly,” I
responded, and we agreed to meet at Civic Center station, where he said his favorite
restaurant was located. Sean excused himself to finish his speech, and I sat
down beside Gracie, noticing glances from fellow passengers who looked slightly
relieved as he continued in a less agitated voice.
Sean met us
as we stepped off the BART, and we followed him out of the station and up the
stairs to the street level.
We had noticed
when walking beside him that he shuffled along gingerly in oversized unlaced
basketball shoes.
“What’s
wrong with your feet?” Gracie asked. “Are you in pain?”
He told us
that he had severed a tendon but that both of his feet were messed up from break
dancing.
“There’s my
favorite restaurant,” he said, pointing to Burger King across the street. He
motioned for us to wait there against a storefront on the sidewalk for a
moment, but I said that we really needed to be on our way soon.
“No, no. Just
wait for six seconds,” he insisted.
Sean walked
into the flow of pedestrians with his right hand out, gently saying “excuse me
ma’am, excuse me sir” a few times to whom ever was before him. We watched as
pedestrians avoided him without acknowledging him in any noticeable way, like
he was invisible. People consistently skirted him, looking down or in the
opposite direction with expert ignoring.
Sean came
back to us and said, “see the attitude that we homeless people have to deal
with?” Gracie and I were amazed as we followed him across the cross walk to
Burger King.
“We all need
to be acknowledged, which is exactly what people are supposed to do towards
God,” he commented, referring to a Scripture that I later located as Proverbs 3:6. “In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will direct your paths.”
We waited
in line at Burger King and two separate homeless men approached Sean, asking
him for something. He ordered and we sat down on some stairs heading up to a
closed off seating area. At this point I asked him if we could pray for him or
if he’d prefer to wait until his food came.
“Actually
if you could pray for me before your next meal, instead, that would suit me
just fine, if that’s okay” he said. “But would you mind if I prayed for the two
of you?” he asked.
We accepted
his offer, and putting a hand on each of us he began to loudly pray. “Our Father
in heaven, mighty God, I believe. But help my unbelief!” He went on praying a
long prayer quieting down as he became increasingly focused. “…Lord bless this
couple with a happy marriage and a long life!” were some of his final words
before a strong “amen.”
As soon as
Sean finished his prayer Gracie said:
“It seems
wrong that we leave you without praying for your feet. You are in pain. Can’t
we just pray a short prayer for you?” she asked.
Sean
resisted for a moment but then agreed to let us pray. I put my hands on his
shoes and we spoke healing to his feet in Jesus’ name. We blessed him with
God’s peace and protection. He was visibly moved. He got up to get his order
and we headed out together towards our next cable-car like bus—the
As we crossed
the street towards the Muni stop Gracie asked him
whether he was noticing any improvement in his feet. “I won’t lie,” said Sean.
“I do not feel the same as before.”
“Well then
we must thank God and pray some more,” said Gracie as we reached the other side
of the street.
We prayed
for him and he received his healing in Jesus’ name. At this point Sean’s
demeanor changed. He looked awestruck and we sensed the Holy Spirit touching us
all in a deeper way. We said our goodbyes and watched him shuffle off a little
faster with what looked like a new lightness in his steps.
As we made
our way to the underground Muni stop we felt a lightness as it seemed God was
directing our path. We felt inspired and even recruited by Sean to see and acknowledge
other individuals, feeling carried along by the flow of God’s love.
A tall
homeless man selling newspapers showed us where to buy tickets. We noticed that
his hands were severely twisted and learned he was in a lot of pain from
arthritis. He gladly accepted prayer for healing and we continued our journey
to our friends’ house, wondering what other adventures this already inspired
weekend would hold.
Announcement: This September and October The People’s
Seminary is offering three new upcoming Certificate in Transformational
Ministry at the Margins cohorts in London, Glasgow and Burlington. Click on the sites for more information
and applications.
