Curtis and I were sitting in the car in the early morning downtown. Just yesterday we were talking about how I long to be able to tell someone, “I have no money, but here, take what I have,” and like Peter, I heal them, or cast a demon out or something. We got a laugh about how country I am, demonstrating casting a demon out.

We think about these things a lot in the early morning downtown. There’s a constant stream of homeless people filing between McDonald’s and the train station. The gospel mission is across the street from the train station, too.

Today we were sitting in the car, talking, when a woman stepped off the sidewalk near our car. Surely, I thought, she’s going to cross the street. .. she’s not coming up to the car. . . when she tapped on Curtis’ window. He jumped, because he hadn’t seen her coming.

He rolled down the window and she said, “Can you please help me? I’m trying to get a cab to get home to the east side, and I only have 35 cents, oh please, can you help me in the name of Jesus, can you help me?” She was wild-eyed and desperate. I thought maybe if Curtis stayed in the car, we could take her to the east side. Curtis asked me if I had any money. I had just found $2 yesterday, and when I had exclaimed in excitement about it yesterday, Yanni told me I owed her $1. So, I knew I just had a dollar, and I dug it out and gave it to her. She stopped in mid sob and ran away, across the street in the 6 AM darkness.

After she left, I had a V-8 moment. (!) I was just talking yesterday about saying “I don’t have any money, but what I do have, I freely give,” and then pushing her forehead and . . . what?

Really, what could we have done to help? We knew she was scraping up money to buy drugs, and yet we didn’t have anything else to offer her.

I usually believe these stories, and I’m usually broke, so I’ll immediately think about physically helping someone. Can I safely give them a ride? Can I give them a diaper, some groceries? Curtis used to carry around money to give to people, until he talked to someone he was trying to help, and realized that they didn’t need money.

God told us we weren’t living the Christian life just last year. And here we are, not any closer. Curtis said, “If Yasha were still alive and we were praying, I might know what to do, but I don’t.”

Woa. I hadn’t planned on stopping seeking God, but I got hurt. I got tired. I got discouraged. And meanwhile, there are hurting people everywhere, and a bunch of powerless Christians that are supposed to be ministering to them.

I’m not sure I like the answer. It seems really disciplined. It seems really hard, and yet that’s what we are supposed to be doing. Curtis calls it the fasted life, denying yourself, loving others. Hard to explain, and harder to do, what with that voice in your head screaming, ‘I don’t feel like it! I want to do something else! oooh! french fries! oohh! I can’t miss my show!” and on and on.

And there are such things as boundaries. You can’t invite all kinds of predators to your home in the name of compassion, and you can’t go broke trying to pay for everyone else. But we do have a responsibility to the poor and destitute.

And maybe I should shut up until I get it, but maybe this is the first step–eyes open to the fact that there is a problem. Maybe that’s the motivation I need to keep seeking God.