I came. I saw. I judged.

I judged a person once. He came over where I was volunteering at a homeless shelter-like place. One of the other volunteers started talking to him which gave me plenty of time to form an opinion. There seemed to be something not quite right about him, and I thought he fit in well for the category of the place; a prime example of a young man ruining himself on drugs. He was roughly kept, and had lots of bright misshapen tattoos. I was sad, but it was a self-righteous kind of sad. I felt no compassion. 

The next time I was there, he came again. The other volunteers were busy, and this time I listened. He asked my name, and when I told him, he said he had a hard time remembering names. I brushed it off by saying, ‘That’s okay. We all do sometimes!’ But he shook his head.

He told me he was a successful business person; he made a million by twenty-three. He had a family, he had kids. He had everything life had to offer. And then, he had an accident. He was in a coma in hospital for a couple of years, he said. When he woke up, he had nothing. No money, no business, no family. Instead, he had a twitch which left him unable to pour a cup of coffee, let alone work. The doctors didn't know how to fix it. He had to teach himself to speak again, and he had loss of short term memory. That’s why he wouldn’t be able to remember my name.

He went on to tell me he’s only had three people in his life he’d call a friend, and he wondered why we’d go out of the way to help people like him. He told me his first rule to live by is self-preservation, making sure his needs are covered: food, water, and shelter. Anything beyond that wasn’t really a need. He said the hardest thing about sleeping on the streets was people walking past and pretending you didn’t exist.

Every single one of my assumptions – except his age – was false, absolutely ungrounded. I saw past my initial judgements. The cynicism in his voice was because he’s hoped with no expectation too many times. The pain in his eyes was the unspoken question: why?

It leaves my heart heavy. How do you explain the unconditional love of God to someone who’s never experienced sacrificial love? How do you explain why Someone would give themselves in our place to a person who's never acknowledged as a human being? How can I be used of God to reflect Him when I can’t meet a person without judging them? 

I want to shout: we’re all human. We’re all sinners, fallen, struggling. We’re all in the same boat, if only we acted like it. I don’t know how to change our culture’s habits. But I’m pretty sure it starts with realizing humans are humans. I’m not any better than you. I’m not more human than an addict on the street. 

We can do our part. Please: come, see, listen. I have a feeling the world will be better that way.